Nine: Rumormongers.
“Sun and rain. So different, yet only by working together do they create harmony and life.”
-Mulan 2 (2004)
“Um, excuse me? I'm looking for Ellery?”
It was Sunday. I was at the ballet studio, at the address you told me to go to, standing by the desk with my hands buried into my pockets. Stand up straight, my mind snapped. Stop looking so lost and pathetic.
I couldn't help it. That's just how I stand.
The girl at the desk didn't notice, though, or maybe she just didn't care. She hardly looked at me as she snapped out the studio name: The Pointe.
I liked that. All the studio rooms were named after different elements of ballet; The Slippers, The Tulle, The Ribbons. I didn't know much about dancing, especially not ballet, but I liked it all the same.
When I found the door, the last one on the right side of the hall, I saw that there were a bunch of people inside, boys and girls, dressed in tights and sweaters and sweats and legwarmers. Everyone was lined up along the barres, packed tight like sardines, doing those leg bends that you call pliés.
Plee-ays.
I was nervous at first, because there were so many people in there; so, so, many. But then I saw you, lifting to your toes at the barre by the window (relevé?), and that gave me enough confidence to crack the door open and slip inside.
No one looked at me, and I quickly realized that I wasn't the only spectator. There was a row of chairs alongside the door, and several of them were occupied by bored-looking teenage guys and a few eager parents. I took a seat next to a woman who was videotaping the practice on an iPad.
There was a man at the front of the room: he was young, maybe twenty-five, thereabouts, but it was obvious that he was in charge. He was counting along to the soft classical music, striding up and down the room and pausing every few seconds to adjust a dancer's position.
This was warm-up, you told me later. Every class started with work at the barre, because ballet can do terrible things to your muscles if you aren't stretched properly. That was the boring part, you said. But I didn't think it was boring. I thought it was fascinating, watching all these people moving in sync, their bodies graceful and their postures still.
The barre warm-up didn't last for long after I'd arrived, and when it ended, everyone was given a break. A flow of dancers washed away from the barres, including you. You rushed over to me, grinning, and thanked me for coming between gulps of water. There was sweat glistening on your face already, but you didn't seem embarrassed about it the way some girls are. I thought that was really cool.
You told me that your instructor's name was Grayson, and you even called him over to introduce us. He was nice, really easygoing; he smiled and even looked me in the eye when he said hello.
I met a girl, too, who came over out of nowhere as we were talking. She was really pretty, but in an obvious way. Her hair was light blonde, golden, and it was coiled into some kind of intricate bun atop her head. Your hair was in a messy twist, falling from its ribbon and into your eyes. I liked that much more.
The girl was quick to inform me that she was playing the lead role in the Nutcracker. She was Clara, and she told me that before she even gave her name. “Ellery tried for the role too, of course,” she said, smiling prettily, “but the competition was so close. Plus, Ells is the sugar plum fairy, and that's a pretty good part too. Not the lead, but we can't all have what we want, right?”
