Little Swan Read Free Page A

Weezer stabbed at the ice cream in her bowl.
    “OK,” I said. “OK. Little Swans it is.” I didn’t dare to tell her that Tchaikovsky probably called the dance something in Russian. She would have thrown her ice cream at me.
    After supper, Weezer phoned Dad. I heard only her part of the conversation.
    Some of it went like this: “Will you try? I really, really want you to see me being a Little Swan. I’m going to get you a ticket. Then if you are here, you’ll be allowed in . . . OK . . . but promise you’ll try. Bye, Dad.”
    When I got to the phone, Dad said, “Annie, I don’t think I can get to Weezer’s show. I did try to tell her, but you know Weezer. She sets her heart on something. Then she won’t take no for an answer. Will you try to explain? Please? In the next few weeks, just try and get it into her head. I probably won’t be there.”
    “But you will try?” I said. “If I get Weezer to understand, will you try?”
    “Of course I will, Annie. You know that. But I’d hate to promise Weezer something and then disappoint her.”
    “Right,” I said. “I’ll do my best, Dad.”
    I was used to being the one who had to explain things to my little sister. I just hopedshe wouldn’t blame me if Dad didn’t come to the show after all.
    There were a lot of rehearsals over the next couple of weeks. Tricia’s mum picked Weezer up and took her to classes. She also took her to extra rehearsals for the Little Swans and their understudies. That wasn’t enough for Weezer. She was a Little Swan at home. She was a Little Swan at school. She was a Little Swan every minute of the day. She had a tape with the
Swan Lake
music on it. Whenever Tricia and Maisie came to our house, she put it on. Then all three girls twirled around our dining room, giggling loudly. The Little Swan tune was beginning to get on my nerves.
    One Saturday afternoon, Weezer came into the kitchen with a big grin all over her face.
    “Guess what?” she said.
    “What?”
    “I’ve just helped Mrs Posnansky carry her shopping home.”
    Mum, who was sitting at the kitchen table, said, “That doesn’t sound like you, Weezer. How did that happen?”
    “Well,” said Weezer, “I was just looking out of the bedroom window and I saw old MrsPosnansky coming down the street carrying a big bag of shopping. So I went out to help her.”

    “But,” I said, “she must have been nearly home by the time you got to her.”
    Weezer glared at me, and was just openingher mouth to answer, when Mum said soothingly, “Every little bit helps, Weezer. It was a very kind thing for you to have done.”

    Weezer smiled and said to me, “You just wish you could have been there, that’s all. We had a proper conversation. Mrs Posnansky is avery interesting person. She comes all the way from Russia.”
    “We knew that,” I said. “Long ago.”
    “I know, but she told me all about it. She told me about the Russian ballet, and a special school that young dancers can go to in St Petersburg. And she asked me all about my classes. I told her I was going to be a Little Swan. She was very impressed. I remember exactly what she said. Every word. She said: ‘You are real ballet dancer. This I see very clear.’”
    “Did you go into her house?”
    “No,” said Weezer, rather sadly. “She asked me to, but I said I couldn’t really, because Mum didn’t even know I’d gone down the road to help her with the shopping. If she asks me another day, is it OK to go?”
    “Of course,” said Mum. “I hope you do have a chance to help her again.”
    For a couple of days after that, Weezer kept looking out of the bedroom window for Mrs Posnansky. But she never saw her, and in the end she finally gave up.

ONE DAY AT breakfast, there was a letter next to Weezer’s plate.
    “It’s from Dad,” she said. “Probably it’s to say when he’s getting here.”
    The show was only a few days away. Three blue tickets were pinned to the bulletin board in the kitchen.
    For