The Dancers

There they were. The most talented girls in the company. The featured ballerinas. They were getting ready for class. Some were using lighters to burn their dance shoes, others were stretching and some were drinking water. There were even a few girls dancing the routines before class even started. I couldn't believe I could see them for myself... I had never seen them off stage before. Without their make-up and dresses, they still looked like works of art. I could see why so many paintings were of these creatures who could shape their bodies to every emotion man has ever known.

I walked in and no one looked up. The dance instructor was not there yet, but I had always prided myself on being early. Yet, it appeared, some of these girls had been there for over an hour. The amount of committment they had to their art was incredible! I watched one girl leap into the air, her back arched and her head held high. Seeing the look in her eyes told me that she was only truly herself when she was dancing. Her name was Emily Lanyon. Not a particularly romantic name, but her gift had made her the favorite in the company she danced for. She had been the star in the last three productions. As an undercover reporter, it was my duty to get to know all these girls, but especially the stars.

I had to write a piece that exposed the ballet world... and being a somewhat talented piano player helped to get me into the job. I was receiving two paychecks and it made me realize how little a reporter actually made. I sat at the piano and began to play a little melody and some of the ballerinas spun around to it, giggling that I was much better than "Leon" had been. From what I heard, Leon was an older man, about 64, but had had an affair with a ballerina and she had become pregnant. So, both had been dismissed as romance between them had been forbidden because it could affect the performances... the pregnancy proved that.

Emily twirled and completed by giving a delicate bow and walked over to her bag, she snagged a bottle of water and drank it slowly. She came over and smiled at me. I smiled at her and said, "My name is-" "Megan. We all know. Our instructor told us you would be replacing Leon." She said quickly. She put her bottle on my seat and began to stretch her legs. I looked her over. Her tiny frame had to be under 90 pounds... she did not really have breasts, but her ribs were clearly seen through her spandex. Her hair was pulled back so tightly that a single hair could never escape and she smelled like sweat and some kind of perfume.

Her arms had bruises and her legs were muscle and bone. My own body was not anywhere near her size and it made me want to give her a box of chocolates. I couldn't believe she was so tiny. Even the water she drank could be seen. Emily looked at me and said, "After class we're going to catch a movie. Want to come?" I nodded and she whispered, "Relax! We're not really as snotty as some people think we are!"

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The instructor came in and demanded that the girls line up. I watched them pose and hold their tiny bodies up on a single leg and counted... they held them for three minutes before the instructor even looked at them. Then she walked and watched them. She corrected their bodies when she saw error and even told a girl that she was gaining weight. The girl was the bigger of the small girls, but could not have been over 100 pounds... I would have to write it in my article.

Mrs. Yonge then pointed to me with her cane and told me to play the song from page 64 and to repeat it until she said otherwise. I did, flawlessly. I really did have a gift for it, but I had gone for journalism because I knew I didn't play with enough passion to go anywhere with it. I watched each girl do the same routine and I heard the director shout to spin faster, slower, to jump higher... then Emily danced and for the first time that day, I heard Yonge say, "Good". I looked from my page, I had all ready learned the verses by playing it over so many times...

Emily jumped higher than everyone and her twirls seemed to be perfect. When Emily bent backwards, I felt myself drift into her movements. She really was the perfect dancer. All these dancers, yet no one could do what Emily did. Someone muttered, "Show off" and Yonge shouted to me to stop. She then stormed up to a girl named Mary and said, "Those with talent do not need to show off to astound others! Emily has been practicing while you have been smoking and having sex at the local bars. I've seen you out and about the other night! How many men? Do you want to find yourself pregnant or with liver damage?!" She then struck the girl across the face and Mary ran off.

I knew from before that Mary was actually Yonge's daughter, but I never imagined a parent could treat their child so coldly... especially in public. After class, Emily and the others went to the showers, and Emily told me to wait in the lobby. On my way to the stairs I saw Mary smoking and looking out the window. I walked up to her and said, "I thought you danced beautifully." I was going to keep walking, but she grabbed my arm and said, "You're not into ballet, are you?" I blushed and said, "I like the shows, but I never thought the instructors were so mean to you guys." Mary smiled at me, her eyes looked tired and she said, "She's the nicer instructor. Harden us in class so we can express everything on stage. That's the logic behind it." I nodded, though I found it hard to imagine.

Mary lifted up her pack of cigarettes and asked, "Want a smoke?" I shook my head and said, "I prefer gum." Mary laughed and then said, "See you around Megan." Before she walked off with her bag and cigarettes.

This must have been how Alice had felt after she had stepped through the looking glass...