I was glad when rehearsals finally ended. I had wobbled my way through the rest of my pirouettes, and I just couldn’t figure out why.

As we bent over to get our bags, I grumbled softly to Luisa, “I’d like to wipe that smirk right off Renata’s face.”

Luisa whispered, “Don’t pay any attention to Renata. She’s just jealous.”

I glanced at the corner where a smiling Renata was chatting with Ms. Ferri. Maybe she was asking a genuine question, or maybe she was buttering up our instructor, trying to steal my part.

“Can you see what I’m doing wrong with my pirouettes?” I asked Luisa, hoping for any pointers I could get.

“No,” she admitted, “but maybe Jade can figure it out.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I said. But lately, Jade was barely talking to me, or to anyone. I figured she was concentrating on her big role as Clara. I’d have to wait for the right moment to ask her for help with my own dancing.

As we headed toward the doorway, Luisa took out her phone and checked her voicemails. The next moment, she gave a little skip and said, “Danny left a message!” Danny, her older brother, had joined the army last summer.

“What did he say?” I asked.

Luisa threw an arm around me and gave me a hug. “He’s coming to our show!” she said happily. “He’s got leave.”

“That’s great!” I said. “He’ll love seeing you.” I’d be happy to see Danny again, too. But then I suddenly wondered, Will he watch me perform as the Gingerbread Girl—or Renata?

As we stepped out into the hallway, the door to Studio A opened and several dancers came out, including Jade. Her blonde hair was still pulled up into a perfect bun, but she looked tired.

“Hey, how did it go?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Okay, I guess,” she mumbled.

My sister never liked to brag, but today her shoulders were hunched and her lips were pressed tight. Usually she was so excited about a dance routine. When it came to ballet, there wasn’t anything she couldn’t do. “Just okay?” I pressed.

“Clara’s a big role,” Jade said. “I’ve got a lot to remember.”

“She’s the heart of the show,” Luisa agreed sympathetically.

I couldn’t blame my sister for worrying a little. She had been practicing her role hour after hour at home. So even though I would have liked to ask for her advice about my routine, I decided to wait until later.

“Ready to go?” Luisa asked.

“I’ve got an errand to run on the third floor before we go,” I said.

I had been feeling frustrated by those pesky pirouettes, but when I thought about the costumes, excitement and curiosity took over. There were three casts for The Nutcracker, and the HDC’s wardrobe department turned out costumes for all of them. I couldn’t wait to see how they did it.

“What’s up there?” Luisa asked as she fell into step beside me.

I tried to answer matter-of-factly. “Mr. Kosloff wanted me to look at some of the costumes for the children’s party scene,” I said.

Luisa punched my shoulder playfully. “Next time, share the good news, girl,” she said with a grin. “If I’d been asked to do something like that, everyone would have heard about it by now.”

“Yeah, congratulations,” Jade murmured. She knew how much I loved costume design—and how exciting this must be for me—so I expected more of a reaction from her. But I guess it was just another sign that her mind was busy with other things.

We went up the stairs to the third floor and into a small lounge with mismatched sofas. Hanging on the wall were large posters of the theater’s shows and some black-and-white photos of dancers caught mid-jump.

“I think this is where the company members hang out,” Jade said.

We walked through the lounge and down the corridor to a door with a sign that read “Wardrobe.”

When I opened the door, I felt as if I were stepping into a cave filled with treasure, like the one in the story “Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves.” Only instead of chests of gold coins and jewels, there was a whole wall filled with bolts of fabric in all sorts of colors and patterns. The shelves were lined with bins of feathers, fake fur, buttons, lace, and trimmings. I wanted to stroke every fabric and feel each object. Was it soft? Did it shine? How would I mix and match these things? I could spend the rest of my life coming up with designs using all of this stuff.

A long table near the door held pieces of cut fabric, and my fingers itched to put them together like parts of a puzzle. Instead, I gazed past the table and noticed several people working in the room. One woman fluffed the layers of a tutu hanging on a dress form. From a clothesline above her head, pancake tutus—short skirts with stiff layers of chiffon, tulle, and organdy—hung like frilly flying saucers.

When I heard the familiar burr of sewing machines, I glanced at a woman and a man hunched over two machines, carefully sewing fancy costumes of embroidered cloth. More costumes dangled from clotheslines over their heads, looking like brightly colored parrots roosting near the ceiling.

At another table with a small, bright lamp, a woman sewed what looked like sequins onto the bodice of a costume. Behind her, a man was busy making a tall, bulb-shaped soldier’s hat out of black fake fur.

I jumped when a middle-aged brunette woman asked, “May I help you?”

Her sweatshirt was covered with little bits of different-colored thread and lint. It reminded me of Mom’s clothes after she finished cutting and sewing one of her creations. The woman was holding a cup labeled with the words “The Real Fairy Godmother.” The string of a tea bag dangled over the side.

I recognized this woman as the seamstress who had taken our measurements after our first rehearsal, but I didn’t know her name. “Um, hi,” I said. “Mr. Kosloff said he’d have some copies of his costume designs for me. May I speak with Margie, please?”

The woman sipped her tea noisily. “Isabelle Palmer, right?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

“Hi, I’m Margie,” she said warmly. “Mr. Kosloff said you’d be coming up.” She looked at me curiously and added, “You’re a little younger than I thought you’d be.”

“You should’ve seen the great costumes she designed for our school show,” Luisa bragged.

Margie nodded knowingly. “You’re drooling like my little boy when I take him into a candy store,” she said with a smile.

She was right. I spread my arms as if I could somehow hug the whole room. “This place is amazing,” I said.

Margie seemed pleased. “Cinderella’s godmother has got nothing on us,” she joked. “And our gowns last past midnight.” She picked up a large brown envelope from a desk and handed it to me. “Here. I printed out copies of the designs that Mr. Kosloff wanted you to take a look at.”

“Thanks,” I said, holding my breath as I took the envelope. Was this really happening?

Luisa seemed as excited as I was. As soon as we were in the hallway again, she reached for the envelope. “Gimme!” she begged. “I want to see what I’m wearing.”

I blocked her hand with my elbow. “It’s just the outfits for the party scene,” I reminded her.

Luisa tried to snatch the envelope with her other hand. “Then I want to see Jade’s,” she said. “Don’t you, Jade?” She glanced at my sister for support, but Jade had already put her earbuds into her ears and was fiddling with her MP3 player.

I retreated a couple of yards away from Luisa. “I think Mr. Kosloff wanted only me to see them,” I said.

“You’re no fun,” Luisa sniffed.

As I stowed the envelope safely inside my bag, I instantly felt better about The Nutcracker. Even if my worst nightmare came true and my sloppy pirouettes got me booted from the show, I was helping with the costumes. At least I’d still feel like part of the show.