I AM SO INSPIRED:) nicole chai, i don't care if you have a test the next day(which is impossible because we're celebrating), you have to read this. I remembered what you told me weeks ago, and you were right. :)
'Higher, Tate, your hands have to be higher. What are you doing?" exclaimed Ms Sayre. "Your arms are too straight. For goodness' sake Tate, how can you be a dancer like that?"
Tate swallowed and nodded, trying to prevent her tears from falling. She truly did want to dance well. She did not mean to hold her hands lower, or make her arms too straight. All she was trying to do was to look nice.
"Point your toes! If you don't point your toes in ballet, what are you going to do? Ridiculous!" Ms Sayre said in exasperation.
Tate took in deep breaths, trying not to cry. Mother told me I must improve, so I must not cry, she told her self with determination. A seven year old can dance well too.
Ms Sayre moved on to the next girl, Ashley, and her eyes had brightened immediately.
"Good point! Extend your legs just a little more, there, that's perfect. Tate," Tate's head jerked up immediately. "You would do well to emulate Ashley." She said sternly.
Tate saw Ashley's triumphant expression, and she felt worse.
"Now girls, back to centre please!" Ms Sayre clapped her hands. Tate trudged over glumly. All around her, the other girls were chatting and laughing, but Tate didn't join them. No, she was busy trying to remember what she had to remember: point her toes, lower her hands, lift her arms...
"You know, Tate dances horridly. I don't know why she still dances." Tate heard her name in a loud whisper.
She tried to control her tears.
"That's because she manages to look good in front of Ms Sayre. She can't dance at all. Not like you, Ashley." Someone replied.
"Looking good isn't enough! I don't like her." Ashley declared.
Tate bit her lip, her tiny hands clenched into fists. She had to improve. She just had to improve. She was going to show Ashley and her class how well she could dance! Oh, she would show them!
"You have to dance four solo pieces in the exam, Tate. I need to see your technique!" Ms Sayre yelled.
Tate grunted and tried to concentrate on dancing. It was hard when someone's yelling at you half the time. She never really understood how Ms Sayre could yell so much in three minutes. She exhaled with relief when the last note on the piano was played. Quickly, she did her turns and ended in her position.
As usual, as it has been for the last seven years, there were snickers all around. Ms Sayre shook her head and made those 'tch tch' noises of disapproval.
"You're never going to get anywhere with that kind of technique, Tate. It's completely non-existent. I don't understand why you're still so bent on dancing." She told her.
Ouch, Tate thought. This must be one her worst insults of the century. Apparently, she never stops adding to her collection. She nodded numbly, and went back to her place at the barre. Ashley was there, her face contorted in a sneer.
"You're never going to make it past this exam, Tate. You have to pass all four dances. Apparently, you can't even dance well enough to pass one." She smirked.
She smoothed out her chiffon skirt and glided over to the middle of the studio to dance her piece. Like Ms Sayre, Ashley didn't hold back when it came to insults. If they go on at this rate, thought Tate, I would be immune to any form of criticism by the age of twenty.