Dancer at Silver Spires Read Free

hall, and we’d stayed there for ages while she’d talked about all the many different sports and PE activities at Silver Spires. Then she’d said, “And now for the dance studio…” She’d turned to me. “I don’t know if you’re into dance, Izzy, but we have all sorts of clubs you can join – tap, ballet, jazz…lots.” I’d given her the tiniest shake of the head and hoped like mad that Mum wouldn’t say anything, and she didn’t, thank goodness. But she’d exchanged a look with Dad and sighed as though I was a hopeless case. So Mrs. Andrews had suggested we just had a quick look. She’d pointed out the sprung floor and the double barres around three of the four walls. She didn’t need to. I’d already noticed absolutely everything about that studio in one glance and it had brought all my past flooding back and made me feel trapped. It was such a relief when we finally left the sports centre and my heartbeat had slowed down to normal.
    And now here I was again, peering into the gloom of the empty room, because it was late afternoon and practically dark outside, which meant I could only see it by the light from the corridor. I pressed down on the door handle and felt relieved that it was locked as I’d thought it would be. But even without going in, the sight of the studio made my heart bump. I wasn’t sure if I was nervous or scared or anxious or excited or a mixture of all those things. All I knew was that the feeling was too much and I had to get away quickly, so I rushed out of the sports complex and headed back to the common room at Forest Ash.
    I’d watch TV until six thirty when it was supper time. Yes, that’s what I’d do.
    I’d never been in the common room without at least one of my friends with me, and I felt a bit funny being there on my own. It’s a very large room with a TV and a DVD player, and plenty of sofas and comfy chairs and beanbags. Surprisingly there were only two Year Ten girls in there, called Olivia and Maria, sitting at the table round the corner from the TV area. To tell the truth, I was a bit scared of them, because they always seemed so aloof. I switched on the telly, then flopped down on one of the lovely squishy beanbags, only to hear Maria say, “The choreography’s going to be so amazing!”
    I nearly got up and went straight out again at the sound of that word, but I didn’t because the girls might have thought I was weird. So instead I tried with all my might to block out what I’d just heard and to concentrate on the TV programme. I couldn’t do it, though. The other me was sitting up straight, filled with curiosity.
    Choreography is like a composition, but of a dance rather than a piece of music. And the other me was desperate to know if the choreography they were talking about was for a ballet, or for a different kind of dance.
    â€œWe’ll need to get in as much practice and as many rehearsals as we can, you know,” said Maria.
    There was a pause and I imagined Olivia nodding.
    Then after a moment Maria spoke again. “Abi’s really good, isn’t she? I wish I could dance as well as her.”
    â€œAbi’s not that much better than…us two, actually,” Olivia answered quickly, and I heard big irritation in her voice.
    â€œNo,” said Maria lightly, “but I mean us three are way better than the other four in the group anyway, aren’t we?”
    â€œObviously.”
    I didn’t like the sound of that obviously . It was hard and boastful.
    When neither of them spoke for a while, I presumed that was the end of the conversation and I sank lower into the beanbag, beginning to relax again. But then I nearly shot out of it altogether at the sound of Maria’s voice.
    â€œMiss Morgan’s right, isn’t she? I mean it’s much harder to make ballet look good onstage, compared to any other type of dance,