In short, Our Hero had [in American Slang] “epically failed” at being the center of attention.
This, of course, was not something new.
Regardless, he had hoped to lay low in the circle of Ugandan breakdancers; in this hope, he had imagined befriending several teachers, honing his [non-existent] acrobatic skills, and developing at least average upper body strength. [As a bonus, this last expectation included toned arms, chest, back, and legs, but he would be fine if he left Uganda with the same lanky body. Thanks, genetics.] Although a part of him knew that it would eventually come, he was still pulled into The Circle.
Performed at the end of every Saturday class, the group of [30 or so] B-Boys and Girls would gather in the cement hut, clap hands, and chant “Bouncing Cats” over and over again like a secret society mistaken for a cult only Dan Brown would decide to write about. It was in this circle of dancers that any [somewhat] willing volunteers would dance, showing off ‘their stuff’ and whatever new skills they had acquired that day.
-| "The Hut" or "Sacred Ground" or "Not-Baby-Classroom" |-
Perhaps it was the fact that his water bottle was running empty, or that an unsettling knot was developing in his stomach, or that he had been suddenly hit by a wave of ‘tired,’ but Our Hero knew things would go wrong when Andrew had finished gliding through the air then across the floor on his head [the laws of physics apparently paid no attention to this boy]. Our Hero half jogged, half dragged his feet across the cement.
Not feeling the most creative juices flow to his brain, or sudden pangs of superhuman strength, Our Hero began to run through the choreography he had learned that day. First, the uprock – this part went fine. Then the turn – this also went fine, until the claps increased in volume and a shrill Xena/banshee-like wail emitted from a nearby B-Girl [sudden and violently loud acts of praise usually threw Our Hero off his groove]. Recovering, he executed the fall, and completely forgot the six step.
-| "Basics" or "Jeff The Teacher Teaches Six Step" |-
Which, of course, is both helpful and necessary in any break “routine” [slang: “round”].
Going straight into a CC roll, then a CC, another CC, then a CC roll again, Our Hero should have taken a hint from the Dance Gods and stopped. Refusing to listen to any and all deities, he finished with what he had learned to finish with: the Baby Freeze.
-| Modified Baby |-
Although he learned to successfully do the freeze, he still had problems throwing it into a round. This, of course, was his fault since he refused to practice in his spare time on church grounds. Not only did his freeze not happen, his upside-down face contorted into a face of surprise, and he flopped onto his back. When he arose, Our Hero felt an uncomfortably familiar sensation in his jaw; whatever he had done, his strangely shaped jaw had locked to the right of his face [mild symptom of TMJD]. Walking out of The Circle, he massaged his jaw, knowing that only time would release the lock and stop making him look like Edvard Munch's "The Scream."
In short, Our Hero had earned [in Ugandan Slang, maybe] “Two Points” while being the center of attention.
After fifteen minutes of the Druid-like “Bouncing Cats” chant and looking like his jaw had dropped in amazement at everyone who had entered The Circle, Our Hero found himself talking to BPU’s current Leader of the Day [Name still unknown - Our Hero had to work on avoiding calling everyone "brother," "sister," "sir," or "ma'am"].
Although he was sure the Leader knew it, Our Hero hung his head and mentioned how he had done terribly in The Circle. He would need a ton of practice that he knew he wouldn’t do on his own. The Leader shook his head, then Our Hero’s hand.
“There’s a War in you.” The Leader said. Reading Our Hero’s confused eyebrows, he added, “I can see it. I think by next year, you’d be perfect.”
Our Hero mentioned that he had already made plans to leave on November 30.
“November 30?” The Leader pondered this. “We better start teaching you faster.”