Chapter Six

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It wasn’t a nice feeling hobbling into Silver Shoes the next day on a crutch. I was supposed to use it for a couple of weeks to help me get around and to keep the weight off my ankle.

Even trying to get up the few front steps and inside was an effort – I almost broke a sweat! My armpit ached from where the crutch was tucked in under it. But I didn’t let anyone help me. My ankle might be out for a few weeks, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t do things for myself!

Anyway, I got to the top of the dratted stairs and stood in the foyer of Silver Shoes (which is really just the old entrance to the church the building used to be). I felt very overwhelmed, like there was some sludgy muck pushing in on me at every side and I couldn’t move.

‘Afternoon, Riley,’ sang Mrs de Lacy, the main receptionist at Silver Shoes, who also happens to be Jasmine’s mum. Jasmine was there, too. She gave me a good looking over.

I pushed away the sludge and flicked my two braids back. Then I straightened my body over the crutch. I would never let Jasmine see how much this stupid ankle was getting me down.

I don’t know if it was because her mum was there, but Jasmine didn’t have anything mean or gloating to say. In fact, I’m pretty sure there was something like a sympathetic smile taking over her lips.

‘I heard about your ankle,’ Jasmine said. ‘I’m sorry. It must be really frustrating.’

‘Uh … thanks.’ There was an awkward pause, so I just blundered through to studio one.

Jasmine being nice was almost as weird as Paige being nasty!

I didn’t want her pity, though. It made me more determined than ever to get my ankle in working order again.

When I got to studio one, I waved at Ellie, Ash and Paige, then went to sit down at the side of the room. Miss Caroline gave me a big, encouraging smile as I plonked my bum on the seat and threw the horrible crutch to the floor.

‘Good to see you, Riley,’ she said. ‘Let me know if you need anything.’

‘Got a new ankle?’ I joked.

Miss Caroline laughed. ‘Honey, mine aren’t much better,’ she said.

At first it was sort of fun to watch from the side. My whole perspective of the class changed when I was observing it and not actually in it, working with my brain in dance mode.

I saw how Ellie cheated a little to push herself into side splits, by letting her feet roll in. I admired Jasmine and how her flat back stretches were so straight I could have balanced marbles along her spine. And I noticed, for the first time, how Serah always confirmed she had the right alignment by watching Jasmine, and adjusting her lines off Little Miss Perfect.

But then I started to fidget. My ankle ached. The hair that always falls out of my braids began to prickle my neck in the most annoying way. I got angry at myself for sitting there like a slob when I could be dancing like the other girls. And then I got angry when they had trouble doing a lame duck turn or a barrel jump and I knew I could have been up there, executing them perfectly, and feeling all the wonderful power and grace that comes with your body poking its tongue out at the laws of gravity.

The worst part was when it came time for exam practice. Exams are divided into four sections – standing warm-up, floor warm-up, travelling steps, and a short routine where you show off both your technique and your performance. I tried to concentrate really hard, watching the sequences and moves closely, committing them to memory, but I got confused when my body wasn’t actually moving along with my mind.

I couldn’t do this.

‘Toilet break,’ I whispered to Miss Caroline as I struggled up out of the seat. The stupid crutch got caught on a leg of the chair and fell to the ground with a giant clatter, and of course, everyone stopped and looked.

I gritted my teeth, hauled it up and hobbled to the door.

‘Did someone let a pirate loose?’ I heard Jasmine whisper loudly.

‘You okay?’ Ash mouthed at me, but I just shook my head and didn’t stop moving until I was safe in the emptiness of studio two.

There I closed the door and leaned against it, sucking in breaths.

‘You’re not beating me, you stupid ankle,’ I said out loud, and pushed myself off the door and into the middle of the room.

I tried to balance on one foot and go through what I remembered of the warm-up part of the exam. But as soon as I put weight on my right foot, my ankle gave a warning throb and my leg buckled. Only the crutch saved me from falling to the floor.

‘Dumb thing!’ I yelled at the crutch, and threw it across the room.

The sound the crutch made as it clattered and bounced against the floor was just as if it were laughing.