Ameera, Unveiled Read Online Free PDF Page A

check. Round-robin in two minutes.”
    I headed across the room, fishing my veil and scarf out of my dance bag. Polly fussed with her hair in the mirror as Cheryl pulled off an extra shirt covering her belly. I tugged hard as I tied my hip scarf. Cheryl was right. It had slipped off my hips a couple of times—both in class and while practicing.
    “Round-robin,” Sybil called to us. “Thank you again for registering and sticking with it. As I’ve gotten to know each of you, I’ve seen your growing pains. Just remember, I predicted you’d become addicted.” She gave us a dimpled smile as we grinned at her last comment. “Check Polly out,” she added.
    “Hello, my name’s Polly, and I’m addicted to belly dance,” Polly said. We laughed as she shimmied.
    “Let’s chat after class while we enjoy snacks,” Sybil said. “I’ll lead warm-up and run through the dance three times.” She started a peppy Middle Eastern tune on her CD player.
    I tried to preserve the scene in my mind. This was the last class, and I wanted to stay in touch with these women. We followed Sybil in stretching, locking, and popping through the dance modules. The group dynamics had become warm and friendly compared to that first day’s awkwardness. We giggled as Sybil tried to push a dance move to a more difficult level. As the song ended, Sybil stopped the music and shuffled through the CD for another song. We retrieved our veils and prepared for our run-through.
    The mood changed as Sybil turned back to us with her teacher’s face in place. “Line up in the center. The first one’s your warm-up run-through. Here we go, girls.”
    As we lined up, Cheryl and I exchanged wide-eyed stares. We ran through a first attempt.
    “Again,” Sybil said, replaying the song. I felt as though I’d danced it tighter as we held the final pose. I tried to read Sybil’s blank stare. “Good. One more time,” she said.
    Then, just like that, it was over. We cooled down and headed toward the snack table.
    “Sybil, this was nice of you,” Polly said, spooning ranch dressing beside raw vegetables.
    “I’m so proud of each of you for sticking through the dance session,” Sybil said. “Kat, what would you like to drink?”
    “Diet, please,” I said. “This class challenged me for sure.”
    “Me too,” Cheryl said. She bit into a brownie and rolled her eyes. “These are orgasmic! Did you make them?”
    “I did,” Sybil answered before she shifted focus back to our class. “Instead of asking you a question in round-robin, I wanted to ask each of you a final class question.”
    “Do we get graded on it?” Polly asked, chuckling. “I wanna graduate tonight.”
    “No, silly,” Sybil replied. “I’d like to know what this class meant to you or how it changed you. Anything you’d like to tell me.”
    “I’ll start,” Polly volunteered. “I’ve been taking Tai Chi and working out at the gym, but I love to dance and can’t hit the dance clubs with my work schedule. I loved every class, and the choreography was fun to do as a group. The costumes are fun. I hate that we’re done, but I’ve made some new friends that I may’ve never known.”
    Sybil smiled and turned to me. “Kat?”
    I sipped my drink. “I signed up for several reasons. I’d gained some weight and hate gyms. I’ve wanted to dance since I was a little girl.” I paused and sipped my drink again. “I won’t bore you with the long list of reasons, but the few times I’ve seen belly dancers, I sensed their free spirits under all the glitz and glitter. I’m an empty nester and think it might be my turn.”
    Sybil smiled and nodded. “Cheryl?” she asked.
    “I think it may be my genetics,” Cheryl said. “My family has Lebanese roots, and I’ve always been fascinated with belly dancers. I wanna look and feel pretty—y’know, exotic. My boyfriend thinks it’s pretty cool too.” She blushed.
    Sybil looked at the last classmate who’d stuck it out with us.