Expression

"Well class, what do you think the message of Flamenco is?"

Second period, Spanish level three. The class had just finished watching a video about the increasingly popular artistic form of song and dance. Throughout the video, many Hispanics of varying ages – and degrees of talent – had performed in front of a crowd, each individual respected and applauded by the others. The class itself had carried somewhat harsher criticism of the less-skilled performers, but the concept behind the video was clear.

Seeing an opportunity to get participation points from a simple and straightforward question, Nicholas Young raised his hand.

"Yes, Nick," the teacher called, smiling at this unusual display of enthusiasm. "What’s your opinion?"

The junior cleared his throat. "Well, the message of Flamenco is basically to be yourself. They’re trying to show that you shouldn’t be afraid to express yourself as an individual. Anyone can perform, regardless of how talented or good looking they are. The purpose is to convey your feelings through song and dance."

The teacher’s smile broadened. "Very good, Nick! That’s an excellent interpretation. Do you think that it’s a good concept?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I think so. It’s an excellent opportunity to share your emotions. You can get things off your chest, tell people how you feel."

"What does everyone else think about this?"

A slight murmur of general agreement coursed through the classroom.

"Do you ever wish you could express yourself in that way? Have you ever wanted to just leap up and tell everyone how you felt about something?" the instructor continued.

Since he had just spoken, Nick decided to share his opinion again. "Sometimes I wish I could do that…" He paused, for the slightest instant, looking down at his desk, "but I don’t want to. I mean, I don’t think it would go over well."

A few people laughed, but the teacher, with her eyes on the goal, presented another inquiry. "Why not?"

"It’s just that… well, American society isn’t as acceptant as many other cultures. If you go out and express your feelings, you’re liable to be ridiculed and outcast by others. People here just aren’t as nice or understanding as in other parts of the world."

The teacher continued questioning other members of the class, but Nick, satisfied with his responses, stopped paying attention. He pondered some of the things he wished he could reveal.

The girl sitting in front of Nick – Natalie something – turned around and looked at him, surprising him slightly. "You’d really want to do that? If you did, what would you say?" she asked him quietly.

Unsure of whether she meant in specifically or in a more broad sense, and reluctant to share his thoughts and feelings with her, he took a slightly vague route. "Just things like what’s bothering me, who I hate, who I like, that kind of stuff."

She smiled. "Who do you like?" she asked curiously.

"I… er…" Nick’s heart pounded against his ribs. He hadn’t expected that. No one had ever asked him that before, at least not as far as he could remember. He wasn’t really used to discussing such personal things with others, not even his close friends. "I… I don’t…"

"Aww, come on!" she persisted, smiling still more.

Nick wondered if she noticed the sweat beginning to gather on his forehead. The perfect opportunity… she was asking him.

"Well…" he murmered, smiling weakly, his breath almost caught in his throat, "I kind of like you."

He’d finally said it. After two months of seeing her, listening to her every day, and being afraid to tell her how he felt, he finally had done it. He didn’t know her all that well – certainly not well enough to know how she would respond – but the chance had come, and he’d taken it.

From the surprise on her face, it was clear that she had not been expecting the response he gave. Her eyes widened and her cheeks turned ever-so-slightly pink. Her eyes slid back and forth as she absorbed what he’s just revealed.

"I know I don’t know you that well, but I just… from what I do know, I kind of like…"

Fear enveloped Nick, swallowing him up completely and taking control of his body. His throat constricted. His heart raced impossibly fast, and the room suddenly felt very hot and cramped. What was he doing? Now what would…

"You do?" she asked simply.

Unable to produce words, he only nodded.

After an unbearable delay, she spoke again. "Well, do you want to try going out some time? To get to know each other better?"

When he realized that his jaw was hanging open, Nick snapped it shut and nodded. "Yeah," he said softly. "I’d like that."