Markus Shields' mom died when he was 12, three days before Christmas, and he says she'd be proud of him for following his dream. He dances wearing a T-shirt with a huge picture of his mother's face airbrushed onto it. Contemporary/hip-hop, I think? He seems all right to me, and thank god, because I was prepared to be rolling at my eyes at him. "Happy with your performance?" says Nigel, and Markus says no, saying he screwed up. Nigel says the only reason he knew that was because Markus showed it in his face. Mary loved him, and Dan thought he was killing it, and they send him to choreography.

D.C. montage of the good, the bad and the freaky. There's a hula trio, and girls in white face-paint, and ballet-krumping. I for one wouldn't mind to see a little more of the hula dancing.

Markus Smith and Deonna Ball are going to dance some D.C. swing, which is the official dance of Washington (shhh -- foxtrot is still pissed). They claim to be the top "hand dancers" in Washington, and their routine is really cool. Hand movements and spins, and legs entwining. Nigel loves it, citing all the dance styles that went into the mix, and Mary compliments them, Dan loved it too. And they're going off to the choreography.

Markus and Deonna: seem uncomfortable, while Markus still seems unable to smile. And in the end, neither one of them were able to do someone else's choreography. Markus Shields: Mary says the important thing to remember is his mother would want him to be happy. But he's going to be really happy, because he's going to Vegas! Along with only nine others.

Brandon Bryant auditioned three years ago when he was fifteen, lying about his age to do so. Now he actually is eighteen, and his contemporary/ballet routine is fantastic, with controlled flips and twirls. The judges all lavish praise on him, with Mary screaming. And my wife concurs. "That is one incredible body. I'd love you more if you looked like that," says my wife, as helpful as usual.

Phucdat (pronounced "phookdat," unfortunately) Nguyen goes by "The Atomic Goofball," and tells a tale of schoolboy woe, of being spit on and stuffed into lockers. Well, clearly, the people who picked on him in school didn't know he could dance, right? He's pretty good -- breaking and spinning around on one hand, and pulling off his dark outfit, revealing a bright yellow suit underneath. At one point he lies flat and pretends to pull his body along the floor with the chin. He's here to represent the nerds! He gets sent through to the choreography, and even I know he's going to go no further.