En Pointe

“Holly! Can you believe that we’re finished Grade 7?” Emery asks me. Emery is my best friend, who is always so cheerful and funny. I met her at the start of the school year, and we had hit it off right away. I’m a little sad that I won’t see her for 2 months, but I’m excited to be on summer vacation. We had so much homework in the past few days, and it’s a relief that I wouldn’t have any for the next while.

“I can’t believe it! It feels like just yesterday that grade 7 started! I was so nervous to be at a new school, but you were so friendly, and then I knew that everything would be alright.” I say, and Emery laughs.

“Well, you got really upset when we thought that I lost your pencil.” Emery says, and I shiver, remembering that day. It had been during the second week of school, and I had loaned Emery a pencil, and when she couldn’t find it, I had burst into tears, but in the end it had been found in Emery’s locker.

The year had really been a wonderful year, with so many wonderful memories, but nothing that exciting had really happened. It had been fun, and my grades were flourishing, but I secretly wished that something would happen- Something exciting, something exhilarating, something out of the ordinary.

Pushing these thoughts out of my mind, I say, “I’m excited to be on summer vacation.”

“I know! We had so much homework! But anyways, what are your plans for the summer?”

“I’m not sure,” I say, and pause for a moment to think. What am I doing this summer? “I don’t have any plans for July, and I think I’ll just relax during the day and go to dance class in the evenings. In August, I’ll be at sailing camp for the first week, then I’ll be doing my dance studio’s summer intensive program for two weeks, and then I’m going to go camping with my family the next week.”

“You and your dancing! You’re always dancing!” Emery exclaims, laughing. “I guess you really enjoy it.” She puts on her backpack. “Alright Holly, I’ll see you in September!” She says, before she leaves the school.

I leave the school a few minutes later, after saying goodbye to my teachers. A lot of the teachers from this year are leaving. Not 1, not 5, but 15. So I take care to say goodbye to say every one of them.

As I walk home, I think back to my conversation with Emery.

“You and your dancing! You’re always dancing!”

Emery doesn’t understand dancing. When I dance, I feel as if I’m someone else, someone magnificent, who magical things happen to. I don’t think I’m the best dancer, but I do find it enjoyable.

I sigh. When I think about the past year, I can think of nothing that I have done that is the least bit exciting. Sure, I’ve had a lot of fun, but I haven’t done anything big, anything important. I’ve had no secret admirers, no one really noticed me.

It’s not like I really need romance in my life, I’m happy as I am now, with my best friend Emery. But somehow, I can’t help yearning to be someone important, someone who did something great, someone who matters. To have someone who loves me, and tells me so every day.

When I get home, my Mom and sister greet me, and congratulate me for surviving the school year. My Mom is kind of strict, but I think she’s really one of the best Moms ever. She makes the most delicious food, and always gives good advice and gets me to do things like ballet and skating. My sister and I used to play more often, but she’s been too busy for me lately. She earns a lot of money and has many jobs, and sometimes I can’t help but feel jealous of her. She also has a boyfriend- Not as if I’m jealous. He seems completely empty-headed.

I check my ballet bag to make sure that everything I need is in there, and then change into my ballet clothes. I usually go to ballet with my uniform on underneath my normal clothes, despite the many times that my sister has tried to convince me not to. It’s faster that way. If I change at ballet, I feel awkward, and it usually makes me late. I despise being late, and when people are late. I don’t think it’s very responsible or organized. I don’t want people to think of me as irresponsible or disorganized.

Once I’m done changing, I head downstairs and my Mom puts my hair up in a bun. It’s embarrassing- I’m still not able to do my own hair when I’m going to ballet. But my Mom tells me that I’ll be able to do it myself soon, and she’s usually right.

My Mom and I leave the house at 4:30, and walk over to the streetcar stop. It’s scorching today, and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. My Mom usually brings me to dance class since I’m only 12, and she doesn’t think it’s safe for me to take public transit by myself, since we don’t have a car. It’s not that we can’t afford one, but my parents live the environment, so they decided not to get one. Sometimes it can get annoying, but it’s generally alright, since I live in the city, where it’s not too hard to get around.

The streetcar arrives within a few minutes, and we get on. Since I’m still 12, I don’t have to pay yet, but I’m tall for my age, so the fare inspector eyes me suspiciously as we get on.

The ride is painstakingly slow, but I still make it to ballet on time. When I enter the building, my dance teacher, Giovanna greets me. She’s a little strict, but I think it’s necessary for a ballet teacher to be strict if they want their students to be disciplined. Some of the other kids at school struck me as disappointingly undisciplined. I’m actually very fond of Giovanna. She’s old, but she isn’t mean, and she always gives me a chance, and seems to see something in me. I’ve done a few small performances thanks to her.

Before I came to my current ballet studio, Primrose Movement, I was part of associates program at the National Ballet, since I wasn’t able to get into their main dance program. Their associates program was extremely boring, so once I found Primrose Movement, I quit the associates program.

I walk up the four flights of stairs to the studio, and shed my outdoor clothing in the warm-up room. Since I don’t change, I don’t usually go into the change room. Someone has taken the spot where I usually put my stuff, so I put my stuff in a different spot, slightly annoyed. I tie on my wraparound skirt and put on my slippers before entering the studio.

It’s not the biggest studio, but I like it all the same. The floor is black and sometimes has slippery spots, but it’s pretty good as far as dance floors go. We bring the barres out before class, and when we’re not using them we keep them at the far side of the studio. There’s a mirror on one of the walls. A girl who I don’t know is stretching near the centre of the room.

I put my water bottle down next to the container of rosin, and survey my company. She’s a girl with dark hair like mine, that is pulled into a bun. She has pale skin and dark eyes, with a slight tan around her shoulders. She seems like she could be a year or two older than me, possibly 13 or 14. When she notices me, she smiles shyly, and I smile back, but we don’t say anything to each other. Winnifred joins us, and then Giovanna arrives and the class begins.

During the class, I lose myself in the steps, in focusing on pointing my toes and keeping my knees straight, correcting my posture and remembering the steps. Giovanna gives me a few corrections, and also gives some to “Daphne,” who I assume is the new girl. I don’t really think that Daphne and I will be friends. I’ve known two other Daphnes, one was at the associates program and was extremely annoying since she was a showoff, and the other one was just plain mean and paid kids at school to do bad things. Winnifred doesn’t usually get many corrections since she is pretty old, and does everything well.

I also watch Daphne to see how good her dancing is. I’m not really sure if I’ll make a career out of dance, since I didn’t get in to the National Ballet program, and since Primrose Movement is quite a small company, and Giovanna hasn’t really told me anything about my dancing apart from that I’m doing well. I’m not really sure if she’s training me to be one of the company’s dancers, but I think that she likes me, and I always do my best to prove that I’m better than all of the other dancers my age, which I think is mostly true, except that I’m not as flexible as some of them, and we all have our own specialties. They’re generally pretty friendly, but sometimes I feel a little hostile towards them, since they are my competitors, in a way.

Daphne is quite a good dancer, and I think she may actually be around the same level as me. She also got a few of the same corrections as me, which is funny. It makes me like her a little more.

The class ends, and I thank Giovanna before slipping out of the studio. A few moments later, Daphne joins me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch your name,” The girl says. Her voice is soft, with a slight accent. “What is it?”

“I’m Holly,” I say, and she smiles. I don’t really like my name, I think it sounds a little too silly, like the plants that people put up at Christmas. And everyone says the same thing when they hear it, “Your parents must really like Christmas.” And then they expect me to be super jolly!

I’m expecting her to make some sort of remark about Christmas, but instead she says, “That’s such a pretty name. I’m Daphne.”

I smile, but it is only a polite gesture, since she smiled at me before. I don’t really think that we will be friends, since I think that I just don’t get along with Daphnes. “Do you dance anywhere else?”

“Well, I’m actually visiting from Ireland,” She says. “But I do ballet over there, yes.”

“Oh, I see.” I say. “How long are you in Canada for?”

“I think I’m just here for this week and next week. I love Canada, though.” She says.

I finish changing into my ordinary clothes and sling my bag over my shoulder. “Well, I’ll see you around, then.” I say, and she smiles.

The next day is a Friday, but since school is over, I don’t have anything to do. I wake up late and spend the day drawing and reading. More than once, I wonder if Daphne and I are going to be friends. She seems alright, but her nameis Daphne...

My Mom tells me that I have a message from Laurel, and she hands me the phone. We share a phone, since my parents don’t think that I should have my own technology, and they don’t like it too much either.

Laurel - Today

Hey Holly, I’m coming to the 2 O’clock class tomorrow! Are you coming?

Laurel is a friend of mine who I met at Primrose Movement. She’s an adult, but she’s really friendly and I haven’t seen her for a long time, since she moved away and then moved back here because she got a job offer. I don’t usually go to the 2 O’clock class on Saturday unless she’s there, since it’s mostly adults and is a lot harder than the class I usually go to on Saturday, at Noon. And it’s hard to do two classes in a row. But since Laurel will be coming...

Me - Now

Sure, I’ll definitely come! I can’t wait to see you!

On Saturday, I ride my bike to ballet. When I arrive, to my slight annoyance, Daphne’s bag is there again, in my spot. My Mother does my hair, and I change into my uniform. I always go to the Noon Class, even if I will be going to the 2 O’clock one afterwards. I hope that Laurel will actually show up. More than once, I’ve gone and she hasn’t come.

When I enter the room, Daphne and some of my other usual classmates, Kelsey and Virginia are there. They’ve already gotten the barres out, but Kelsey and Virginia aren’t standing at them, they’re fooling around. I feel a flash of anger, because to me, ballet is serious, not some kind of joke or unmeaningful hobby. I take it very seriously, but Kelsey and Virginia don’t at all, and somehow Giovanna still likes them anyways. I join Daphne at the second barre, and she smiles.

The class goes well. I usually wear my pointe shoes on Saturday, but I’ve forgotten today, with all the excitement. It makes me a little relieved, since I feel that Giovanna expects me to be better and better each time that I go en pointe. Every time, I feel as if I’ve disappointed her. Kelsey has forgotten her pointe shoes as well, and Virginia doesn’t do pointe. A point in my favour, I hope.

The class ends, and I inform Giovanna that I’ll be taking the next class, and she seems happy. I hope that she won’t expect me to take it from now on.

When I go into the warm up room, everyone has left except for Daphne. I start stretching, as I usually do when I do two classes.

“Are you staying for the next class as well?” Daphne asks, and I look up.

“Yes,” I say, and she smiles. “I guess you are, too?”

“Yes,” She says, and I smile, not knowing exactly why I am smiling, but doing so anyways. “What do you usually do between classes?”

“Well... I usually just stretch.” I say. “I don’t usually go to both classes, but my friend Laurel said that she would come.”

A siren sounds in the distance, and Daphne says, “The sirens here are so loud! In Ireland, they’re not loud at all, and no one ever gets out of the way. Or you’d forget that you were supposed to, and when you remember, you slowly would.” I laugh.

“What’s it like in Ireland? Apart from the sirens not being loud?” I ask, and she laughs. Her smile is lovely- It consumes her face.

My sister arrives, and I introduce her to Daphne. She seems to like her, but I can’t tell. She doesn’t meet many of my friends, and she’s barely home lately.

We enter the studio. The clock strikes 2, and Laurel still hasn’t arrived. I guess she wasn’t’ able to make it. I can just try to make it through the class anyways- At least I have Daphne here.

Daphne.

We stand at the same barre, and I keep finding my eyes coming back to meet hers. And when they do, she smiles, and I do too.

It’s weird- I want to look at her, but... When we do the stretch exercise, and it’s the part where we face each other... I can’t bring myself to look at her. I want to, but I don’t want to, either.

What am I thinking? I can’t even figure out my thoughts today.

There’s a feeling, like a butterfly fluttering in my chest, like summer blooming throughout my body. It is summer- Summer. When Daphne smiles at me, the sun seems to shine, and the happiness in my heart grows even more. I know that I’ll do anything- anything, to keep her by my side for just a little longer.

But summer ends. Always.