How Can I Keep Dancing? [ON HOLD]

How Can I Keep Dancing? ~~~ Chapter 5 ~~~

Don't forget to vote when you read!!!

Also, I've added a photo of Mel Ferrer from War And Peace who is exactly how I pictured Charlotte's father, but he can never play him because he died two years ago at the age of 90 or something :(

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~CHAPTER FIVE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

July, 1939, Philadelphia

The past week and a half passed me by in a haze. I continued to sneak out of my bedroom to meet with Elijah. And each time, my mother never suspected anything going on. Twice more we visited the movie theater, and both times were just as exciting as the first – though I can’t help saying that The Wizard of Oz left a lasting impression on my mind. Other than that, he took me out dancing and dining a few other times as well, and sometimes even meeting me at our river. But mostly we were sneaking around whenever the chance came along. I hadn’t forgotten the moment after the first visit to the theater. Though another chance never came along for us, I couldn’t help replaying how his hands inched towards me, the way his lips parted as he began to lean to touch them to mine. Each time I replayed it in my mind; I couldn’t help a dizzying moment of thrills setting me in a tumble of hopefulness.

Other than Elijah, my days past by in the beginnings of our production of Swan Lake. I was beginning to feel entirely too excited about being the lead role by the end of the week, and somehow, I felt a spasm of joy knowing that all the other ballerinas were jealous of my glory. I didn’t care about them, though. It was my moment to shine, and I wasn’t going to let anyone else get in the way of that.

It was the second week of practice, and I was being dropped off by Henry as usual. Stepping into the studio, I walk straight into the dressing room, stripping down to change into our practice clothes. Pulling back my hair into a tight bun, using pins to hold it back, I step back out into the studio.

To find the whole dance class standing against the back wall, a man standing in front of them with his arms folded and Miss Dawn no where in sight.

Hearing the door close behind me, the man turns around.

“Ah, there you are, Miss Rhodes.” He says, “Would you please join the rest of the group.”

I hadn’t realized that I was late, but quickly oblige, standing along with the other dancers. A quick sweep of the room made me realize that Miss Dawn was indeed not here, so obediently I set my eyes to the man in front of us.

“My name is James Meade,” he begins, “and I’ll be your new dance trainer for this season.”

A rumble of confusion passes over the group.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering where your usual dance instructor is,” he continues. “Well, let me tell you, she most likely will not be returning to teach you for the rest of the semester. As it is, on Saturday morning, Mrs. Williams found out that she was diagnosed with cancer. As a result, she is required to remain in the hospital until she is better, under the doctors’ orders.”

Through my shock, I silently pray that the practitioners would be able to cure her.

“But please, I don’t want anything to come between this production and us, so I do hope that I can continue on with Mrs. Williams’ efforts, and still be able to make this production one of the best that this county has ever seen. Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

He gestures towards the bars, and without a word of divergence, we all line up quietly, going through our warm-up routine without delay. Listening to the soft music from the gramophone always allowed me to flow along without any distress, loosing myself in the familiar movements. Today, I try and forget about the distress Miss Dawn’s sickness had brought on me, instead working myself harder in the practice. The heat of the summer frequently made us stop for more water breaks than usual, and without the fans around the room, I doubt that we’d be able to move at all in our own perspiration.