Chapter 3
Madame Stone’s office was small and messy. There were papers everywhere. Pictures of famous ballerinas covered the walls.
“Sit down, Marissa,” Madame said. Marissa perched on a chair in front of Madame’s big wooden desk.
Madame folded her hands and leaned forward. “Why aren’t you wearing your practice leotard?” she asked gently.
Marissa felt her face get hot. She looked down at the ground.
“I expect all the students to be properly dressed for dancing,” Madame Stone went on. “You know the rules.”
Marissa didn’t know what to say. How could she tell Madame that she felt weird about how her body looked in the leotard? It was way too embarrassing.
Madame Stone waited for a minute. When Marissa didn’t say anything, Madame said, “I could tell that something was upsetting you today. Your dancing wasn’t like it usually is.”
“I’m sorry, Madame,” Marissa said softly.
Her teacher nodded. “It’s okay, Marissa.” She paused for a moment.
Then she said, “I don’t mind if you want to wear a T-shirt and sweatpants to practice for a while. But if you want to dance in the recital, you’ll have to wear a costume, just like everyone else.”
Marissa nodded, but her heart was sinking right into her ballet slippers. Of course she wanted to dance in the recital. But she’d seen the costumes. They were all leotards.
Rachel was waiting in the locker room. “I’m so excited about the recital!” she squealed. Marissa took her dance bag out of her locker. Then she and Rachel headed outside.
“Yeah, me too, I guess,” Marissa said quietly. She stared at the sidewalk as she trudged along.
“You don’t sound very excited,” Rachel said.
“I think maybe I’ll skip the recital this year. It’s no big deal,” Marissa said. She tried to sound as if she really didn’t care.
“What?” Rachel asked. She stared at her friend. “What are you talking about? You’re the best dancer in the studio. How can you skip the recital?”
“You saw how badly I danced today,” Marissa said. “Clarice and Kelly were whispering, and I felt so weird up there. I even messed up that easy little dance I was demonstrating.”
“Who cares about Clarice and Kelly?” Rachel said. “You’re a way better dancer than either of them. That’s why Madame Stone always asks you to demonstrate. They’re probably just jealous.”
“Maybe,” Marissa said. “Let’s just drop it, okay?”
Rachel was quiet for a few minutes. Suddenly, she said, “I’ve got it! You should try out for the Rose Fairy part!”
“Ha!” Marissa said. “Very funny. There’s no way Madame would ever give me the lead part in the recital. Not after the way I danced today.”
“That was just a demonstration in class!” Rachel exclaimed. “What matters is how you do in the auditions.”
Marissa shook her head. ”I’ve seen the Rose Fairy costume,” she said. “It’s a red leotard, with red tights and a pink tutu. I can’t wear that. I feel like an elephant in my practice leotard. The costume would be even worse.”
“Whatever,” Rachel said, waving her hand. “You can dance that part better than anyone else in the studio, including Clarice and Kelly. And me, for that matter.”
“It’ll never work, Rachel,” Marissa said. “Just forget it.”