Growing Up Rainbow

Dance, Dance

Annabelle's parents were upstairs in the Spire discussing some trouble in the fourth quadrant. She'd tried reading in the waiting room, but that was boring. Then she'd found the back stairs and run down the 20 stories, which was fun, but only once. She'd come out into the park at the center of the Loop and noticed a fin with repulser pod poking above the Founders Memorial. So she walked around to see if it really was a flying saucer.

Sure enough and a black one, which meant it belonged to Space Woman Black, a mythical figure in Annabelle's mind. Space Girls were the stuff of legend and her mother constantly complained about them breaking things. Her mom seemed to think they were the primary cause of all her diplomatic missions. The only person who seemed to break more things for the Diplomat was her daughter.

There was a girl about Annabelle's age dancing around in front of the saucer. Annabelle kept to the shadows and watched her critically.

She was determinedly trying to do a leaping, kicky dance thing. She'd jump in the air, one foot forward, one back, and then fall on the soft grass.

"The problem is your skirt," said Annabelle from the shadows.

The other girl was surprised and tumbled her landing. Instead of immediately getting up, she puffed, causing black bangs to fly up in exasperation. Then she smiled, "Hi, there. I didn't know I had an audience."

Annabelle smiled back in spite of herself. Her father said she'd inherited her mother's prickly nature, and maybe that was why she had so few friends. Personally Annabelle thought it was because other people were dim and slow. "That skirt is way too poofy. When you kick out, it gets pulled between your legs. Then, when you close them to land, it trips you up. Why are you wearing it anyway? Seems a regular skirt or shorts would be better."

The other girl stared and Annabelle found herself wondering if she'd make the grade with this stranger, surprised to find she really wanted to.

"My name is Sophia. What's yours?" Sophia said and stood up.

"I'm Annabelle Pembrooke. My mother's Diplomat Woman Red."

For some reason this made Sophia laugh. "Hah, my mom's Space Woman Black. I'm wearing the skirt because it is what ballerinas wear. It's called a tutu, Annabelle."

Annabelle walked a circle around Sophia. "Yeah, I saw a ballet once on Kantar. They wore something like this." She grabbed the outer skirt and pulled it up to get a better look at the lower layers. "But yours must be defective."

Sophia frowned. "Annabelle, it is not appropriate to pull someone's skirts up without asking first."

Annabelle dropped the garment like it was hot. "Sorry, Sorry. I get focused on problems and forget my manners. Mother is constantly on me for it."

"It's all right, I would have let you look if you'd asked," said Sophia. "There's actually two parts to it. The outer colored one and the inner poofy one. That one has lots of layers."

After a bit of discussion the two girls decided to try the movement without the poofy skirt. Once removed Sophia could do the kick without falling, but Annabelle still felt it wasn't like the ballerinas she had seen. Neither noticed that Annabelle's example kicks were almost perfect from the first try. Sophia encouraged more instruction so she could dance like a real ballerina.