The Secret Talent Read Free

at Abraham Lincoln.”
    Uncle Theo was now standing beside me so that I was caught in the gravitational pull of his humiliation. “Tim dances in full costume! They both do!” He gestured to Gabby as well.
    I glanced at my sister.
    There’s a theory that twins can communicate telepathically, and Gabby and I have tested it many times. One time we got pretty close, when I projected an image of money and then took a box of her Girl Scouts cookies, but she said mental dollars weren’t a real form of payment.
    Regardless, I needed us to be mentally linked now more than ever. Luckily, Gabby nodded at me and rubbed her arms.
    â€œIs it chilly in here?” She looked at me. “Should we go warm up in the studio?”
    I tugged on Uncle Theo’s sleeve. “Yeah, we probably should.” I waved to the girls. “Later!”
    But Uncle Theo was determined to Greek out. “You two won’t be cold if you dance a little sirtaki,” he said with a chuckle. He winked at the girl I was talking to. “You should see this young man move.”
    And then . . . the ultimate humiliation.
    Uncle Theo snapped his fingers. “What am I thinking? I actually have a video of it on my phone!” He reached into his back pocket. By this point, the other girl had rejoined her friend.
    Misery loves company.
    â€œOh, they don’t want to see that,” I said with a nervous laugh, stepping between my uncle and the girls.
    â€œOf course they do! Don’t you, girls?” Uncle Theo held out his phone so they had no choice but to look, and he started the video.
    The camerawork was a little shaky, but there I was, holding the wrists of a guy to my right and a guy to my left as we shuffled sideways in a circle, occasionally kicking our legs out.
    Sadly, I realized Vanessa’s imitation hadn’t been too far off.
    â€œI don’t understand,” one of the girls said with a furrowed brow. “Are you standing behind one of these dancing women?”
    â€œUm . . . I’m that . . . that dancing woman,” I said, pointing at the screen.
    She let out a laugh. “Oh my God.”
    â€œIsn’t that something?” Uncle Theo asked, mistaking her amusement for awe.
    â€œOh, it’s something all right,” she said, linking arms with her friend. “Excuse us. My mom’s waiting outside.”
    I cringed and avoided her eyes, but I couldn’t ignore the giggles and whispers that followed them out of the building. I didn’t look up until I heard the door close, and when I did, it was to see Uncle Theo rewatching the video with a proud smile.
    â€œYou’ve got style, my boy!”
    â€œUh . . . thanks.” I cleared my throat. “Hey, Uncle Theo?”
    He glanced up, the video on his phone still playing so I could hear rhythmic clapping and the strumming of a lyre.
    â€œWhat is it, Timotheos?” he asked.
    â€œYou know how you tell strangers—the mail carrier, the dentist, anyone eating an olive—about me being a Greek folk dancer? Maybe you could do a little less of that.” I pinched my fingers together. “And by a little less, I mean never again.”
    Uncle Theo lowered his phone. “What?”
    â€œOooh.” Beside me, Gabby sucked in her breath. “I’m gonna go change,” she whispered, shuffling out of Uncle Theo’s line of sight.
    Uncle Theo stared at me.
    â€œWhat I mean,” I said, squirming under his gaze, “is that not everybody needs to hear about what a great dancer I am.”
    His expression relaxed. “Ah. I’m bragging too much. It embarrasses you.”
    â€œUh . . . yeah, something like that,” I said.
    He tapped the side of his nose and winked at me. “Say no more. Although, you shouldn’t beso modest about your talent, Tim! Few men can twirl a baton the way you can!”
    I winced and glanced around, but we were alone. “Thanks, but can we just