AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I sit down with my back against the wall and slowly take my battered old second-hand ballet shoes off. I notice Britney making her way across the studio towards me, accompanied by two friends. She’s probably fuming after her humiliation dished out by Irina.
“How are those shoes, Emma?” Britney asks me with an obvious sneer. “Falling apart?”
I try to ignore Britney. Like I’ve said, she’s had her focus on me ever since I first joined this class. Her teasing only ever gets worse the times after Irina berates her. It’s like I’m Britney’s personal verbal punching bag – an easy target for her to unleash all her issues on.
“Shoes are fine,” I reply. “I just want to go home now.”
“How about you getnewballet shoes?” Britney snarls, standing over me intimidatingly as I fit on my normal sneakers. “Or can you not afford them, being the daughter of a maid? You can only ever afford second-second-second hand ballet shoes, and don’t they look terrible on you...”
The two friends of Britney snigger at her comments. I look down. I hate being reminded of how poor Mom and I are. It’s true I can’t afford good shoes. It’s true I can’t get the latest dancing equipment and costumes. It’s a shame that’s been eating me up inside, and the last person I need to remind me about it is Britney Davis.
“How’s the Penmayne mansion?” she asks in a singsong, bullying voice. “How’s cleaning their shits? Do they let you eat with their dogs, or is that too high-class for you and your mom?”
The girls all laugh together in unison. They’re better at laughing in sync than they are at dancing in any kind of unison.
“Please leave me alone,” I whimper.
“You’re so boring anyway,” Britney replies before nodding at her companions to leave.
They twirl around and skip out of the studio together, ditching me alone.
I wipe a tear from my eye. I try not to let comments like those affect me, but they do. I can’t help it.
I think about that fairy tale book August Penmayne picked up from my fall on my first day at the mansion: the story of a girl who cleans and is noticed by a prince.
Stories like that don’t happen in real life.
And certainly not to girls like me.
I pick up my bag and gradually make my way to the studio exit, praying I don’t run into Britney again.
But I don’t run into her. Instead, Irina is standing in the exit doorway.
I look up at her. I’ve never been alone with the teacher before.
I’m freaking terrified.
Irina is staring at me with her sharp, small brown eyes.
“Do not worry about silly little girls,” she tells me in her strong accent. “I learned to ballet with nothing but bare feet and the stinging pain from the back of my father’s hand.”
“Really?”
“You might not have the best equipment, Emma,” Irina continues, “but I can see you’ve got a passion for dancing.”
“You... think?”
I’m stammering.
“Maybe you even have something bordering loosely on talent,” the teacher says bluntly.
“Thank you, Irina.”
“Now, please leave my studio.”
I don’t even hesitate.
I run all the way back home, fueled by what amounts as a fervent, ardent commendation from a teacher infamous for her very lack of encouragement. I amelatedby the fact Irina might think I might have some talent for dancing. I have not heard the woman utter a single positive word to anyone in eight months, and now she’s just praisedme.
