Free Dancing Dudes by Mike Knudson Page B

street.
    “Howdy, pardner. Nice shirt,” I said to Graham, who was also in a Western shirt.
    “You, too, cowboy,” Graham answered. We both spoke with a Western accent.
    “You reckon there’s any chance of me dancin’ with little ol’ Kelly?” Graham said, walking bow-legged.
    “Well, I reckon not, cowboy,” I said. “It would take a heap of good luck for that to happen. How about me dancing with Heidi? Do you reckon that could still happen?”
    “No, there ain’t no way that’s happenin’ either . . . I reckon,” Graham said.
    We got to school and decided we would talk like cowboys the whole day. Everyone in our class had dressed up, except David. He punched me in the arm when I walked in and told me I looked like a dork. I don’t know what got into me, but I punched him right back and said, “I reckon you shouldn’t mess with old Tex.” David gave me a strange look and backed up to his seat, without even another punch.
    “Whoa, what was that all about?” Graham asked. “I’ve never seen David back off without getting in the last punch.”
    “I don’t know. I think it’s these cowboy clothes. They make me feel kind of tough or something,”
    “Or kind of manly ,” Graham said. His eyes got big. “Hey, I think it’s my manly coaching paying off.”
    “Good morning, students,” Mrs. Gibson said. “You all look so festive today. Thank you for dressing up. David, I have an extra bandana you can wear.” David looked mad but didn’t say anything. “And everyone is here except Zach. I’m going to call his home to find out if he’s going to be able to make it. But if he won’t be here, Raymond, would you mind dancing with Heidi?”
    “Would I ever!” I blurted out. Everyone turned and looked at me. Diane started laughing. “I mean . . . I . . . um, reckon that would be all right.” I looked over at Graham, and he gave me a thumbs-up sign.
    We spent the rest of the morning doing regular school stuff. We had a spelling test and did some math. For some reason everything was more fun, even schoolwork, when I was dressed as a cowboy. In no time at all, it was time to line up for lunch.
    “What kind of grub do you reckon they’re cookin’ today?” I asked Graham on the way to the lunchroom.
    “Would you two stop talking like that!” Lizzy said, interrupting our Western conversation.
    “Well, I’m sorry, little lady, but I’m afraid that ain’t possible,” Graham said. “You see, we’re cowboys and that’s the way we talk.”
    “Then sit far away from me, because I can’t stand to hear you anymore!” Lizzy whined.
    “Sorry, ma’am. But we’ve been riding the range all morning and now it’s time for some grub. If the lunchroom ain’t big enough for the three of us, you may just have to find your own place to eat,” I said.
    She flipped her hair around and ignored us.
    Pretty soon we got more of our friends to start talking with a Western accent, and before we knew it, almost everyone in our class was speaking like cowboys. Mrs. Gibson didn’t even get mad when we spoke like that in class. She said she thought it was appropriate for the occasion.
    As soon as Lizzy heard that, she started speaking with an accent. “Howdy, Mrs. Gibson,” Lizzy said. “I think you’re the best darn teacher in the West.”
    “Don’t you mean, you ‘reckon’ she’s the best darn teacher in the West?” Graham added. Everyone laughed . . . except Lizzy.
    Finally, it was time for the performance. Mrs. Gibson told us how important it was to smile and keep dancing even if we made a mistake. We lined up and walked down to the auditorium. Mr. Fowl’s class was ahead of us. They went straight onto the stage to sing. We waited in the hall next to our dance partners. We listened and waited for our turn.
    “Raymond,” Mrs. Gibson said. “Zach’s mother said he wasn’t feeling well this morning, but that he would try to make it. However, since he’s not here yet, why don’t you line up next