A dance book starring your child

Spread 2

The first door was already open a crack. Miss Lenka — that was the tall lady's name — let Oliver peer inside. Folk dance! The accordion galloped, and big kids galloped with it. They stamped so hard the floor drummed, they spun so fast their ribbons flew, and one boy dropped into a squat and kicked his legs out like springs. 'It looks jolly,' said Miss Lenka, 'and it is. But your legs must be strong as tree trunks and quick as rabbits, both at once.' Oliver's knees felt tired just from watching. 'It's beautiful,' he whispered. 'But I don't think it's mine.'

Spread 7

With the music on, everything went faster — and everything came apart. Matěj's thunder boomed before the beat. A tall boy behind them forgot which corner the lightning went to and threw it at the window instead. And Oliver's freeze melted every single time. The music stopped dead — but his arms floated on, half a count behind the line, soft where the storm wanted him stopped like a switched-off light. He tried harder. He tried so hard his face scrunched up. The arms floated anyway. Miss Lenka turned the music off. 'Good,' she said, which surprised everybody. 'Now we know exactly what to fix. Storms are not built in a day.'

Spread 12

The music crashed open and the light came down like rain. One — spark! Oliver's hands flashed open above his head, and beside him two more sparks flashed at the exact same instant. Two — thunder! Three heels drove into the floor — boom — and the floor answered. Three — lightning! Oliver threw his arm out into the corner and stopped. Completely. Instantly. Slowly, a hundred times, until your arms remember — and his arms remembered. The three of them hit the last accent as one single thing: one storm, one shape, one held breath in the dark. Silence, for half a heartbeat. Then the applause came — and it was loud as real thunder.