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Federico and Ginger

Written by Iver P. Cooper

Federico Ballarino stopped his mule, and studied the guards at the roadblock. They were too well uniformed to be brigands, but it wasn't unheard of for a local lord to decide to boost his income by imposing a toll. Or even robbing travelers outright. Indeed, it was out of concern of being robbed that he was dressed rather below his rank.

Uh, oh. He was definitely being watched. One of the guardsmen waved him to come forward. He reconciled himself to the inevitable, and urged his mount into a trot. Hopefully this wouldn't be too expensive. He prudently had his main purse well concealed.

"An' who might ye be, an' wha' be the reason for ye takin' the road to Grantville this fine day," said the apparent leader of the contingent.

It was an accent that Federico had heard before, but he had not expected to hear it in Thuringia.

"You're a Scot!"

"Indeed I am, o' one o' his Swedish Majesty's Scots Regiments, on detail t' the SOTF. But what is more t' the point is, who are ye?"

"I am Federico Ballarino."

"From one of the Italies?"

"I was born in Venice. But I have traveled widely in England, France and Germany."

"A Papist, no doubt," the Scotsman grumbled. "And wha' is your business?"

"I am here at the invitation of Axel Oxenstierna, his Majesty's Chancellor."

The Scotsman looked Federico over, and apparently was not impressed. "And I am the Queen of Sheba."

Federico frowned. "I realize that I am not dressed like a gentleman. The Germanies are not, as well you know, a good place for a traveler to look wealthy. But I have credentials. If you will permit me—." He reached slowly into his jacket, and pulled out an envelope.

The trooper took it reluctantly, opened it, and shook his head. "I don't read Latin. What does it say?"

"I have been invited to be the dancing instructor for the Princess Kristina. I was advised that she is presently residing in Grantville."

"Hmmph. It looks like the Chancellor's seal, but . . . no one has told us to expect ye . . ." He called over another guard.

"Wha' think ye o' this?" He handed over the document.

"I dinna' know," said his companion. "Seems t' me that the Princess is a wee bit too young to have a dancin' teacher."

Federico drew himself up stiffly. "I am sure you are very familiar with the customs of the Swedish court," he said drily, "but I beg to differ. She is quite old enough, from what I hear, to start lessons. She's already seven years of age."

The two guards looked at each other. "I know," chortled one, "we'll let him prove himself!" They called over their fellow guardsmen, who formed a circle around Federico. "Hey, now, we are about to have ourselves a royal performance."

They turned to Federico. "What will ye do, to show us thy mettle?"

He stared at them. "Would a Scottish Sword Dance suit you?" Now that took them by surprise. He could see that they were wondering, What have we got ourselves into? Which, Federico thought, was no better than they deserved.

But they realized that they were committed. "Aye, that'll do."

"Then lay down the crossed swords." Federico leaped onto the first quadrant, capered in place, and then moved onto the next. He traversed all four squares without looking down, and without disturbing either blade. Then he jumped away, into a final pose. "Satisfied?" he asked.

They nodded vigorously. "Sorry, sir, we meant no harm. An' who'd have thought a Venetian Papist would know one of the great Scottish dances? Would some wine and food help make us even?" Federico was agreeable. Just as well they don't know that the Scots got that dance from the French, he mused.

****

Federico raised his mug, saluting his new friends, then took a swig. "Ahhh... So why are Scotsmen standing sentry duty on the road to Grantville?"

"Just two Scotsmen actually," said the guard commander. I'm Brian, and this big oaf is Niall. I think it would be easier for the horse to ride him than for him to ride the horse."

"Easier for the horse, perhaps," said Niall.

"Our comrades are German," continued Brian. "The Americans had a bit of trouble with Croat raiders last year. We're training the local militiamen."

"And ogling the local cheerleaders," Niall added.

"What are cheerleaders?" asked Federico.

"If you visit the high school, you'll find out. But I warn ye, I have my eyes on the tall brunette."

"I see."

"You're lucky you came here when you did," confided Niall.

"How so?"

"The princess doesn't actually live in Grantville. She just visits, now and then. Has an official residence set aside for her use, when she comes."

Federico's eyebrows arched upward. "Then where is she dwelling? Not in Stockholm, I hope. I don't know if I can survive a Swedish winter. Italian blood, you know."

"No? Then 'tis a good thing you didn't visit Scotland in February. " Niall chuckled. "No, the princess spends most of her time in Magdeburg."

****

After they finished carousing, Niall offered to escort him not only into town, but directly to the princess' Grantville lodging.

"That would be very kind of you," said Federico. "But give me a few moments to change into more gentlemanly dress, so I don't give pause to anyone else we meet."

****

Federico studied Princess Kristina. The princess was not what he expected of a girl who was destined to be, upon the death of Gustav II Adolf, the Queen of the Swedes, Goths and Vandals, Great Princess of Finland, Duchess of Esthonia and Carelia, Lady of Ingria, Empress of the United States of Europe, and Captain-General of the State of Thuringia-Franconia. Her hair was untidy, with a piece of ribbon slipped into it, looking like red flotsam on a storm-tossed sea. Her blouse and skirt were simple, and marred with scholarly ink stains. Her shoes had low heels, like those of a man.

Somewhat uneasily, he realized that he was under equally close scrutiny. He decided it best to begin the lesson. "Principessa, I am privileged to have the opportunity to instruct you. May I ask what instruction you have received already?"

"My governess has taught me a few steps. But Lady Ulrike is not an enthusiastic dancer, she just does the minimum required for social acceptability." Lady Ulrike, at that moment, was sitting in the corner, knitting, and pretending to ignore the conversation.

Perhaps feeling that she had been too critical, Kristina added, "But she is a wonderful rider and an excellent riding instructor. I ride a few hours each day, and I owe much to her tutelage."

Federico pondered this intelligence. It was vital that he make a good first impression on the princess. He doubted that he would do so by spending an hour having her practice her reverences, or a stately pavane. And it appeared likely, given her equestrian activity, that she was in robust condition. Her skirt would not restrict her leg movements much, and she probably chose it for that very reason.

"Perhaps we can spend a little time on the cinque passe first, Your Highness. It was a great favorite of the young Queen Elizabeth of England. And, for that matter, of the old Queen Elizabeth. It is the basic step of the galliard, or as the Italians say, the gagliarda.

"Let us begin in the posture gauche, like so. Yes, the left foot in front, but weight evenly divided." It was in-between the third and fourth positions of twentieth century ballet. "We begin with a pied en l'air droit." He had leaped onto the left foot, extending the right leg low and forward. "Now we reverse." She copied him. "We repeat this pair of movements."

"Now the difficult part, the cadenza. We will make a little jump, so both feet are in the air, and bring the left foot behind, landing in the opposite pose, with right in front. Like so." He demonstrated what he meant.

"A few points. First, the timing. The music is in six counts, but there are only five steps. They are syncopated; one two three four, and five. Also, note how I complete the cadence. I land on the foot behind an instant before I bring down the one in front. If you land on both feet simultaneously, it looks as if you are a sack of grain which has been dumped on the ground. That is not considered courtly.

"So, now it is your turn."

****

He returned the next day. It was evident, as soon as he saw her, that she was anxious to tell him something. "Have you seen the American ballet?" she asked. "Bad, Bad Brillo? Or The Nutcracker?"

"No, Principessa, I have not. Where do they hold these ballets?"

"Different places. At the high school. Or at one of the castles. But I can show you Bad, Bad Brillo. I have it on video." She turned to Lady Ulrike. "Please, may I show Signor Ballarino my video?"

Lady Ulrike sighed. She had seen it many times already. But she knew where her duty lay. "Yes, of course. But I will expect you to be prepared to discuss the dancing, not just watch it for pleasure. This is a lesson, you know."

The governess took a black object out of a locked cabinet. It was the size of a sextodecimo, a book made of sheets folded in half four times, then cut. Lady Ulrike inserted it into the flapped slot of a strange, cubelike metal and glass device, and pressed a button.

Much to Federico's amazement, the words "Bad, Bad Brillo" filled the screen, and then, "Performed by the Grantville Ballet Company." The letters faded away and were replaced by a "moving picture." It told the story of the ram Brillo and his four ewes.

Federico quickly put aside his curiosity regarding the technology, and concentrated on the dancing.

When it was over, he said slowly, "Thank you very much for sharing that with me, Principessa."

"You liked it? I knew you would," she bubbled.

"This is the ballet of the twentieth century?" She nodded. "It is both like, and unlike, the ballet of our own day." He took a moment to decide how best to express his reactions.

"The performers were all quite young. So I suppose it must be classified as a ballet de college, that is, of the secondary schools. In France, each year, the students of rhetoric learn their parts from their dancing masters and, in August, they perform in the courtyard of their college. Thousands of people may come to watch the show." He smiled. "When I was in Paris, I was an assistant dancing master at the College de Clermont. I gave lessons, and I performed the most difficult role."

"And do they do anything like Bad, Bad Brillo?"

"It is difficult to generalize, but if a ram appeared in a ballet de college, he would not truly represent a ram. The ram would be but a metaphor for youth. Or the spirit of spring, perhaps." Kristina digested this.

"Brillo's no metaphor," she insisted. "I've seen him."

"I accept your imperial word on the subject," he said solemnly, and bowed. "But let us continue our analysis of the dance. Did you like the lifts?"

"Oh, yes, they were so graceful."

"Before the coming of the Americans, the only instance I can think of in which a man lifted a woman in a dance was in la volta. Have you heard of it?" Kristina shook her head.

"It was the English Queen Elizabeth's favorite dance. She jumped, and rode the man's knee as they turned about." Lady Ulrike frowned, but didn't say anything.

"Then there is the way the dancers walked on tip-toe."

"Frau Bitty Matowski calls it en pointe," Kristina explained. "She is the director of the ballet company."

Federico said hesitantly, "I must confess that it is not entirely clear to me how they can hold so unnatural a position."

"I asked Frau Matowski about that. She said that the dancers wear special shoes, and that it takes years of conditioning before the feet can stay en pointe, even with their help."

"Another aspect. The turn-out of the feet."

"Yes," said Kristina. "In the galliard, you had only a little."

"I teach what is a compromise between the French and Italian styles. The Italians do not use turn-out, the French favor some. But neither use the extreme form that we saw on the 'videotape.' I wonder how and when that style developed."

"You must talk to Frau Matowski. Look for her at the high school."

"I will do that, Principessa. But please note, it was not entirely foreign. Here and there were steps that looked somewhat familiar. Steps taken from a court dance here, or a folk dance there. I will show you.

"But now, it is time for you to do some dancing." He taught her a few of those steps, as well as the second most popular step of the galliard, the campanella, or little bell. After the lesson, he asked one of the guards for directions to the high school, and started walking. Frau Bitty Matowski, he wondered. A woman dancing master? How curious.

****

Bitty Matowski was indeed at the school, teaching a "Dance for Fitness" class. The class had already started, and Federico started to turn away. She pointed at him, and shouted, "New here? First class is free! Get in line!" He found an empty spot on the floor, and joined in. Some of the participants were clearly having trouble keeping up with the pace. It wasn't a problem for him.

The teacher kept eyeing him. He hoped he wasn't doing something wrong. The class came to an end.

Bitty didn't waste any words on small talk. "Are you a professional dancer?"

"Yes, Frau Matowski,. I am the dancing master Federico Ballarino, of Venice."

"Please, call me Bitty. Or Frau Bitty, if you must be formal. You are going to meet quite a few Matowskis if you are a dancer in Grantville. Your name sounds familiar—wait, you are Princess Kristina's dance teacher."

"Yes . . ." That was all he got to say.

"Boy, do we need to talk. Which nights do you have free? Have you seen any of our ballets? I know Kristina has the videotapes. Can you teach our group any of the down-time dances?"

Federico wondered if he would ever get a word in. In desperation, Federico raised both hands, palms toward her, in what he hoped was the universal signal for, "Stop! I can't answer any of your questions if you don't give me time to speak!"

Bitty stopped talking and smiled sheepishly. "Did you want to say something?"

"You are very kind to ask, Frau Bitty. Yes, I have seen Bad, Bad Brillo. It was quite enjoyable. I do hope you will let me see some more videotapes. And perhaps you have some books on the dances of your time, that I might borrow?

"As for teaching your group, I am not sure. . . . My first responsibility is to see to the needs of the princess, and I understand that she will be spending most of her time in Magdeburg. And I will be living there, too.

"That said, I am not one of the princess' main tutors. I only teach her a few hours a week. It is a great honor, of course, and I am given my maintenance, and a small stipend, but I could use some additional income.

"I had hoped that once I had made her acquaintance, I might put myself forward to tutor her in another subject. But she seems to be amply supplied with instructors in every other discipline.

"So yes, I would like to teach others. And clearly, I want to come to Grantville to study the videotapes you mentioned. But isn't Grantville many miles away from Magdeburg?"

Bitty shook her head. "Almost 160 miles, but don't worry about that. You can ride post, or take the motor ferry, from Magdeburg to Halle. That's seventy miles, and you can do it in a day."

"A day?"

And then you can ride the railroad the rest of the way to Grantville. That's even faster."

"Railroad?"

"You've seen our cars? They have engines inside that turn their wheels. Well, imagine a special car with a very powerful engine, pulling several unpowered cars along metal topped rails. The rails are like a slick dance floor; they're easy to move over. You can travel from Halle to Grantville in a few hours."

"Amazing. . . . Well. after a week or two, I will have a better idea of how often I will be meeting with the princess, and then I can consider other commitments.

But is there enough demand for dance instruction here in Grantville to make it worthwhile to bring me here on a regular basis? If not, it would probably be better for me to find another patron in Magdeburg."

Bitty pondered the question for a moment. "Well, now that I think of it, the school might be interested in having you teach an adult-ed group class in down-time dances. In fact . . . You clearly consider yourself competent to teach several subjects. How much schooling have you had? Other than in dance, I mean."

"I am a graduate of the University of Padua, where I took courses in theology, law, mathematics, art and music. And I have also studied in Paris and London."

"And which subjects have you actually taught?"

"I taught arithmetic at a school in Paris. And I was a 'traveling tutor' for northerners touring southern Europe when I was, how shall I put it, in-between appointments as a dancing master. Mostly, I taught foreign languages and music to Englishmen, as well as some Scots, Germans, Danes and Swedes. Indeed, my cousin is doing the same thing right now."

"Wonderful! The high school desperately needs teachers. Speak to Principal Saluzzo. The school will pay you a salary, of course."

"That sounds very nice. But I would have to absent myself from Magdeburg fairly frequently, I imagine, to be a high school teacher. And perhaps it isn't wise for me to ask for special treatment when I have only just started employment."

"Don't worry about that," said Bitty. "I'll have a word with Mary Simpson in Magdeburg. To 'grease the wheels,' as we say. She's the Admiral's wife, and she adores the arts. If she asks for your assistance in Grantville, I imagine the emperor, or the chancellor, will approve the necessary adjustments in the princess' schedule."

Federico bowed.

"You'll be happy to know that as a teacher, you can take classes at the Adult Education Center for free. We even have a ballroom dance class."

"Ballroom dancing?"

"That's one of the genres of dancing we had back home, before the Ring of Fire. There's square dancing, clogging, contra, swing, disco and others. But ballroom dancing is what is probably the most similar to what you consider 'court dancing.'"

"Ah. I would like to see that. Oh, and—"

"Yes?"

"Videotapes. Are there videotapes showing different genres of dance? And is there a place to see them?"

"There are thousands of videotapes in Grantville, and plenty of them show some kind of dancing. I have a fair number of those myself. Don't worry, I'll give you a briefing on what to see, and where. Just let me finish packing up my gear."

****

Federico had assembled a list of videotapes of interest. Top Hat. The Gay Divorcee. Singin' in the Rain. The Red Shoes. West Side Story. Saturday Night Fever. Dirty Dancing. Strictly Ballroom. Swing Kids. A Day at the Races. Blast from the Past. Some were available for rental from Everett Beasley's store. Others were in private hands. How fortunate, for example, that Irene Fortney was an Astaire-Rogers fan!

Of course, Federico didn't own a VCR or a TV. But a retired couple, the Johnsons, had discovered a creative way of compensating for the loss of their pension. It exploited their one extravagance: a projection TV. Bring a videotape of interest to them, and they would plop it into their VCR. Watch it yourself, or bring as many friends as would fit into their viewing room. Their projection fee was reasonable; the homemade popcorn was optional.

The variety of dance forms Federico saw was bewildering. But then, he should have expected that—he was seeing, in the course of a few weeks, the results of almost four centuries of dance evolution. Bitty had warned him, but hearing was not the same as seeing. I will learn these dances, one day. All of them, he resolved.

****

With Bitty's and Mary's support, and after an exchange of radio messages with court officials in Magdeburg, the high school hired Federico as a part-time phys ed teacher. Federico could only teach for a week every month, however. Unless Princess Kristina made a visit to Grantville, in which case he could accompany her.

After his first day on the job, Federico and Bitty sat outside the high school, enjoying a mild spring evening, and waiting for Bitty's husband to come meet her. Federico decided it was a good time to broach a delicate issue.

"I assure you, Frau Bitty, that it is not my intent to learn your twentieth century ballet and form a competing company," Federico said earnestly. "But neither can a dancing master of my ambition be content to be simply a dancer, even a soloist, with your own troupe. I must find my own path."

"Of course, Federico!" said Bitty. "There's room for all kinds of dancing. The joy we take in movement with music is not a fixed quantity, which one troupe consumes at the expense of another. Indeed, it is the reverse. Giving someone a taste of dancing whets their appetite for more." She sipped her drink. "But I do expect you to teach the group that gavotte!"

"Many of your social dances deserve their chance to captivate other parts of Europe," he acknowledged. "After all, several started 'dance crazes' in your 'old time line.' Perhaps, when I have mastered them, I can restore them to their rightful place in our culture.

"Also, I hope that I will be able to develop a new dance vocabulary which combines, in some new and exciting way, the dances of my time and those of your own." He shrugged.

"But that is for the future. First, I must find more pupils, whether they be up-timers or down-timers, who are interested in learning the dances which I know already."

"Oh, I have some names for you," said Bitty. "But it will cost you. You said you knew a dance for a man and two women, is that right?"

****

The end of the school year was approaching, and the Grantville High cheerleading team had come to the realization that it was in danger of becoming irrelevant. It was the only school in Thuringia where there were kids who wanted to play football, and hence the football league was no more. No football; no half-time cheer. Basketball was also heading for extinction, at least as a team sport. Baseball was increasingly popular, but didn't seem a good match for cheerleading—none of the breaks were long enough for a good routine. So the cheerleaders had decided to reinvent themselves as a dance team, which could put on concerts.

"But where are we going to learn enough new material to do a show of our own?" asked Millicent Anne Barnes, one of their "fliers."

The team was quiet for a moment, then Lisa Hilton, who had been elected as the new team captain, gave Michelle, of the dancing Matowskis, a Look. "Well?"

"I'm sorry," said Michelle. "Every dancer in our family will be in Magdeburg, all summer." She thought a moment. "Well, Adriane Hall used to be a professional dancer. She was a cheerleader in high school and college, too. We'd have recruited her for the ballet company if she weren't too busy with TacRAIL at the time. I hear she's on leave. So ask her."

Judith Wendell proposed an alternative. "Princess Kristina has a new dance tutor. Federico Something-or-other. He comes to Grantville on a regular basis. Maybe he could teach us something new." Her fellow Barbie Consortium members, Vicki and Millicent Anne, nodded vigorously.

"If it's from the seventeenth century, isn't it old?"

"Ha. Very funny. Not."

"Ha yourself."

"Shush you two," said Lisa. "It's a good idea. Hardly any of the German girls have tried out for the team. Maybe if we gave them something familiar to do, they would be easier to recruit."

"I suppose Federico would be okay. Bitty says he's a good dancer. But what about Miss Hall?" asked Michelle.

"What's the problem?" said Kristin Warshaw, the graduating team captain. She had strongly favored the changeover, in part because the school might be persuaded to allow local alumni to continue to dance with the team. "Ask them both! We can get a routine out of each of them."

****

Adriane Hall was, like Shakespeare's Hermia, "a raven not a dove." But she would never be cast as Hermia in Midsummer Night's Dream; the audience would laugh as soon as she called herself "dwarfish." She was tall even by up-time standards; here, in the seventeenth century, she towered over most of the men.

In college, Adriane had taken every dance class the school had to offer. She even danced professionally for several summers before resigning herself to a career in management. After her marriage and divorce, she returned to Grantville. She was now, officially, a USE Reserve Lieutenant, but really just a glorified office manager for TacRAIL.

Bitty's ballet company workload had increased, and Bitty had made up her mind to recruit Adriane to take over the ballroom dance class. Federico's arrival in town would, she thought, play nicely into her plans. Bitty stalked her prey, and struck.

"But I'm just here on leave, I'll be back in Magdeburg, soon enough," Adriane protested.

"Oh, I understand that," said Bitty. "But we need you. And, seriously. We're trying to preserve as much of our culture as we can. You're the only professional dancer to pass through the Ring of Fire. So what are you doing with your life? Typing for your country? Let TacRAIL train a down-timer to do that."

"But who would be my partner? Aren't all your good male dancers going with you to Magdeburg?"

Bitty pretended to need a moment to think of a solution. "Princess Kristina has an Italian dancing master. Federico Ballarino. So appeal to his sense of civic duty." She was fairly confident that once Federico had a good look at Adriane, he would be quite civic-minded.

Adriane agreed to give the class a try. Bitty smiled, thinking that Adriane had no idea what she was getting herself into. "Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match," Bitty hummed to herself.

****

Federico was happy to help the lovely Adriane out, provided that she in turn would learn some court dance steps and help him teach them to some of his private pupils. A few of the local down-timers, drawn by his association with Princess Kristina, had hired him to teach their sons and daughters, and some movements were easier to teach if they were first demonstrated by a knowledgeable couple.

Adriane and Federico decided to start by exchanging private lessons. They worked together for about an hour, then took a break.

"Does it bother you?" she asked. "I mean, that a woman is a professional dancer? And a dance teacher?"

"It was, I admit, a surprise, Madonna. But you should understand, there have been women who were famous for their dancing, even as Vittoria Colonna was for her poetry, or Cassandra Fedele for her oration. And I must mention the painter Artemisia Gentileschi, who is still alive.

"The most famous female dancer, I would say, was the Duchessa of Milan, Beatrice d'Este. She performed for the French king, Charles the Eighth, and he urged her to try one of the French dances. To his astonishment, she mastered it on first acquaintance."

"How long ago was that?"

"According to my own teacher, it was in 1494."

"That was a long time ago."

"Not by Italian standards," he said airily. "In any event, I have been studying the entries on dance in the encyclopedias, as well as the library of Frau Bitty. In what you Americans have termed the 'old time line,' in a mere half-century, the French would put 'ballerinas' on stage.

"As a Venetian, I am eager to cause the French to, as you Americans say, 'eat our dust.'" He paused.

"But, Signora, I must warn you of the peril you are in."

"Peril?"

"You are in danger of becoming a 'time-ist,' Signora," he said with a smile.

"A 'time-ist'?"

"It is a new word I have coined. I was previously informed by one of your compatriots of the meaning of the term 'sexist.'" Adriane winced slightly. "No, it wasn't being applied to me specifically, but to Europeans of my time, in general.

"And, I suppose, with their knowledge of many women of intelligence and achievement, I understand why 'up-timers' think that the men of my age are 'sexists.'

"But you Americans do, in turn, evidence an unfortunate tendency to treat anything that we 'down-timers' do differently as quaint at best. More likely primitive, even bestial.

"Hence . . . 'time-ists.'"

****

"What, exactly, is "Homecoming Week?" Federico asked.

He had been ambushed by a gang of cheerleaders after one of the ballroom dance classes. Their explanations came fast and furious.

"It's the first big event of the school year."

"We start with a Homecoming Parade on Monday."

"And we have special dress-up days on Tuesday and Wednesday."

"Like Hawaiian, or Nerd."

"But we always wear class colors on Thursday. Seniors are blue, juniors are green, sophomores are red, and freshman are white."

"And we also have a 'powder puff' game that day."

Adriane joined Federico in the corridor in time to hear the last "explanation." She took pity on him. "That means, senior girls play football against the junior girls, and the boys are the cheerleaders."

The girls didn't give him a chance to ask what "football" or "cheerleaders" might be. "Then, the homecoming game itself is on Friday night. That's varsity football."

"And Saturday is the Homecoming Dance."

Ah, dance! A familiar word at last. Federico clutched at this straw. "What happens at this dance?"

"Well, first we crown the Homecoming King and Queen—"

"But in the Civics class, I was told that you Americans don't have a king and queen." Federico was still a little sensitive about this issue.

The girls giggled. "They're just students who are being honored for their contributions."

"It helps to be popular."

"And good looking."

Adriane intervened. "Each of the school organizations can nominate a pair of candidates. All the candidates together form the Homecoming Court. Before the football game, there is a parade, and at half-time, the cheerleaders and the marching band perform, and the Homecoming Court is presented to the audience. The king and queen are chosen by secret ballot, and the results are announced at the Homecoming Dance. The homecoming king and queen thank their subjects, and welcome them to the dance.

"Then the king and queen do a slow dance together, just the two of them, and then the rest of the evening is dancing in which all the students can join in."

"This is all very interesting," Federico said diplomatically. "But why are you telling this to me?" Federico was anxious to call it a day, but didn't want to risk offending up-timers, even if they were just teenagers.

'Well, we're cheerleaders! Our big chance to shine is when we do our cheer routine at half-time of the homecoming game."

"Cheer?"

"It's a kind of dancing," Adriane explained. "As the dancers move, they shout out encouragements to their athletes, and insult their opponents. They also do formations and gymnastics to impress the audience."

"The problem is, the school isn't going to have a football team anymore! Not enough down-timers tried out for the team. And the whole excuse for ...