Finally got a good amount of writing done...
After class I head home. I’m not sure what to do with my time now that I can’t spend hours in the dance. But Mom seems to have a good idea about how to keep me busy.
“Bethany, since you’re home you can help watch your sisters,” she tries to hang Caty to me but I immediately protest since I’m on crutches. Instead she carries her into the living room and I hobble along behind.
Audrie, the second youngest sister, trots behind us carrying her book of the moment; Chicka Chicka Boom Boom. It’s this crazy alphabet book that has been in the house since I started learning the alphabet. All seven of us girls have used it and I’m pretty sure that I could do the whole story complete with page turns without even looking at the book.
Audrie’s favorite part of the book is the voices that we all do when we read it to her. I think she’d be over the book by now if it weren’t for how much fun we have reading it to her. It’s about time for Caty to fall in love with the book so I put her on the couch right on the other side of me as I start to read.
“A told B, and B told C…”
Audrie reads each letter as I point to it and in between letters she encourages me over and over to read the “Chicka Chicka Boom Boom” like Dad would which means in a deep resounding voice that always made us girls squeal. I try my best to do the voices but I simply can’t manage to make my voice that low.
After I finish the book Audrie begs for me to read it again Caty, who doesn’t talk much, probably because we all talk for her, squeals and claps her hands. I shake my head and roll my eyes but read it again. At the end they both start clapping and beg me to read it again but this time I decline. Why don’t you guys play doll house or something?
They both jump off the couch and race over to the dollhouse that is sitting right next to our fireplace. “Aren’t you gonna play with us?” Audrie asks but I shake my head no. Sitting on the ground with a broken leg that two little girls might accidentally step on is not part of the healing process.
“I’ll just watch,” I tell her. Watching Audrie play doll house is a lot of fun. We’ve read to her so much that she actually narrates what her characters say and do. You could probably actually get some pretty decent children’s story ideas because even when she plays by herself she talks out the story. Complete with a sort of prologue to introduce the characters before she actually starts playing.
I sit on the couch just watching and listening until Mom calls for me to come help her in the kitchen. I set myself up at the kitchen table and she hands me a block of parmesan and a cheese grater and she instructs me to grate. As I do so she sits across from me breaking up a huge loaf of Italian sausage, rolling them in bread crumbs and then semi-magically turning them into meatballs.
She asks how I’m feeling and I just shrug. Physically I’m feeling fine. The doctors at the hospital gave me a pretty strong pain killer for the first week or so. Emotionally I can hardly stand it though. Not only am I not going to be able to perform next Sunday, but I also can’t work my stress out through dance. I don’t know how else to cope honestly, I’ve always had and thus always used dance.
“You did call Juliard and tell them not to send someone Sunday right?”
“Yes Mom,” I reply with a deep sigh. She’s already asked me that two or three times just to be sure. As if the school doesn’t already hate me. I couldn’t imagine how livid they’d be if someone were sent and then I didn’t show up to perform because of a stupid broken leg.
“Well did you ask if they could send someone at a later date to come and see you?”
I look at her quizzically, “no, they’re busy. They don’t have time to waste waiting for me to heal to see if I deserve another partial scholarship.”
She purses her lips but doesn’t press the subject anymore. Instead she moves onto other things and we start talking about the family. Soon the water for the pasta starts boiling and she gets up to throw in four pounds of pasta. Girls may not eat as much as boys but we’ve got seven of them so it takes a lot of food to feed our whole family. And whatever isn’t eaten tonight will be served for lunch tomorrow.
Once the pasta and meatballs finish cooking Mom calls everyone into the kitchen. I put Caty in her high chair and everyone else takes their place at the table. Mom has put the pasta into two separate bowl so both she and Dad start circling the table and scooping out portions of pasta and meatballs.
They always give me far too much. I make a point of eating only half a cup of pasta and I ignore the meatballs altogether because the sauce has meat in it. I allow myself to have as much sauce as I want though since that’s both my vegetables and protein for the night. I think I’ve heard that both are good for healing bones so I allow myself to splurge a little bit hoping maybe it will make things heal faster.
Dinner is crazy and everyone talks at once through the entire thing; about what’s going on at school, about friends, about extracurricular activities. Us girls are involved in all sorts of things from chess to soccer. My parents strongly believe that ones education extends outside of the classroom so they’ve pushed hard for us to each find our niche. Dana is the only other dancer in the family but unlike me she doesn’t want to be a ballerina when she gets older. Actually she wants to be a doctor. She’s always really excelled in science in school so it makes sense I guess.
After dinner I help Mom get the babies ready for bed. Everyone seems happy to have me around. Normally I’d be busy with homework at this point if I’d gone to the dance studio but I’d been able to get almost all of it done while watching Audrie and Caty play doll house. As I tuck Caty in for the night she squeezes me close, “Love you Be-hany,” she says still unable to complete the Th sound in my name.
I smile and return the hug. “Love you too Caty. Now get some sleep.” I switch on the nightlight beside her bed before leaving the room.
March 10th, -0- total days till graduation, -0- days left of school
“Miss Bethany, what happened?” Marjorie gasps as I hobble into the ballet studio for class. Go figure this time I’m late.
“I slipped and fell on some black ice,” I tell her trying my hardest to maintain a bright, cheery smile. “Doctors say I’ll be okay in a couple of weeks.”
“How are you going to teach us?” another little girl chimes.
Now I smile for real. “Well I have a special surprise for you guys. You wanna see what it is?”
Everyone shouts, “yeah!” in tandem.
“Drum roll, please!”
Eighteen little girls bend over and start slapping their thighs with their hands.
“I present to you, my sister, Dana!”
Everyone starts clapping as Dana enters the room. Over the last two nights I begged Dana to come and help me out because I can’t correct their form if I’m on crutches. She finally agreed to help me when I offered her 15 dollars. When she argued that that was too little I recounted with the fact that it’s more than minimum wage and she doesn’t have to pay taxes on it. So she agreed.
No one in the class has ever met my sister before. She’s only fourteen but she’s tall for her age, almost as tall as me. She has darker skin than me but the same over all facial structure and we have the exact same smile. It’s obvious when people look at us that we’re sisters.
Last night I wrote out the choreography so that Dana would have an easier time with it.
“So let’s do our warm up and then after that I’m going to play the song and you guys just do what you remember. We’ll run back through the parts that you’re having trouble with okay?”
I lead them through warm up; me calling out the various positions and Dana actually performing them in case anyone forgets what a rond de jambe or a relevé is. (Which they shouldn’t at this point but I still know they watch intently to make sure that they’re doing it right.)
I try to use as many of the actual ballet terms as possible so that if they do go onto higher levels of dance they won’t be totally thrown simply by the language. When I first went into classes that required pointe shoes I was totally thrown for a loop when they asked me to do moves by their French name. But when the instructor would demonstrate what she wanted done I always felt stupid because I knew how to do the moves, I simply didn’t know the name for it. I had to study the terms just to keep up in class. If any of these girls have a similar problem, it certainly won’t be my fault.
“Thumbs tucked! Thumbs tucked!” I call out as they start their dance. “Don’t forget to smile. You look so much more confident and beautiful when you smile!” Most listen to my advice but there are two or three that I can clearly see attempt a smile and fail miserably. Instead they end up grimacing throughout the entire piece.
There are a few places where it’s very clear they need work. Some girls gallop off in one direction while others stand still wondering what comes next and practically get run over. Another section some of them completely forget what to do and so one starts doing moves that I know I’ve never taught them because they better resemble something out of a hip hop music video than anything ballet, and the rest follow her example.
After the piece plays through I talk through the choreography slowly with Dana demonstrating on the parts that need the most work and then have the girls practice a few times before adding the music back in. The girls do much better without the music because they have to speed up quite a bit and so keep missing counts. I turn the music off again and speed up the count, still not as fast as the music, but faster than they just practiced it. Once they have that I speed it up a little more and on it goes until finally I add the music back in and most of them nail it on the first try.
“That was perfect guys!” I say clapping when the music ends. “I’d give you a standing ovation if I could stand.”
Dana snorts but all of the little girls giggle in response.
“Alright, I think that’s the end of class… Dana since you’re our guest do you want to pick a ballerina of the week or should I?”
“I’m sorry what?”
“Oh, guess I didn’t explain what that was to you then. So, you probably weren’t paying attention as much as you should have.” The girls giggle collectively and I can’t help but smile. “Alright… well, I declare Brittany to be ballerina of the week!”
Brittany squeals and skips forward to accept the stamp on her hand as everyone else claps.
“Brittany I award you ballerina of the week because,” I press the stamp hard onto the stamp pad to make sure that the image will actually stick to her skin, “you tried so hard today and even through you sometimes didn’t know what steps to take you always kept a smile on your face.” I press the stamp onto her hand and when I remove it a perfect ballerina standing on one foot with the other bent and resting at her knee smiles up at her.
“Thanks Miss Bethany!” she hugs me, as best she can while I’m sitting down. Some of the girls decide to come up and hug me even though I’m sitting down but unfortunately we can’t have our one big group hug like we usually do. Then they leave the room chattering about today’s practice.
Once Dana and I arrive home Mom calls me into the kitchen. I expect her to want help preparing dinner like she’s asked me to help the past four or five nights but instead she has an envelope addressed to me sitting on the table.
“It’s from Juliard,” she informs me. “Maybe they’re offering you a later date for your second partial scholarship audition?” She’s seems rather hopeful and understandably. Juliard is expensive for any family, but it’s especially expensive when there’s six younger girls who are also going to eventually want to go to school.
I rip open the envelope. Inside is a single sheet of paper. I start reading it and almost immediately my heart sinks into the pit of my stomach. I’m going to cry…
Miss Bethany Langley,
Juliard is a school that prides itself on having the very best of the best of musicians, dancers and performers as students. That is why we regretfully inform you that due to the nature of your injury we will be forced to revoke your partial tuition scholarship. If you find that you are healthy come summer you may reapply for a scholarship. You are still welcome to join us in the fall.
I stop reading then. They can’t do that can they? They can’t just take away my scholarship that I worked so hard for. Now I’m never going to be able to afford to go to school there! I can feel the tears now, too heavy to hold in any longer. I try to blink them back but they barrel right through my eyelashes splashing onto my cheeks.
“What’s it say honey?” my mom asks.
My back is to her so she can’t see my reaction. I turn and just shake my head, big, crybaby tears are overwhelming me and my throat seems to have swollen shut. I can’t speak. Instead I simply hand her the letter limply.
Mom scans it before looking at me wide eyed. “Oh, honey,” she pulls her spoon out of the pot she was stirring and walks over to me to give me a hug. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even know they could do that.” Her arms wrap me in a warm embrace.
“Neither did I,” I choke. I can barely contain the sobbing gasps that are beginning to creep out of my throat. “I have to figure out where I’m going to go to school now.”
“You can still go to Juliard,” my mom starts to argue. “We might not be able to help you as much as we’d like but they have student loans and things.”
I pull away and look at her skeptically.
“Bethany, do you want to go to Juliard?”
“More than anything.”
“Then we’ll make it happen. Someway, somehow.” She hugs me close again before releasing me quickly because the pot on the stove is about to boil over. She moves quickly to it and turns down the heat and starts stirring viciously, taking out all her anger on tonight’s dinner. I wish I had something to direct my anger towards. Instead I sink into a kitchen chair, lay my head on the table and cry until no more tears come.
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