My Life in Dioramas Read Free Page B

Those girls could kill you with the cuteness and their tiny tap shoes! Whenever I saw them I wished my parents had started me in dance when I was younger. Three years into classes, I was in love with dancing, but a part ofme still felt like I was catching up with Stella and Madison, who’d been coming here for a lifetime.
    I liked the way my body felt different—more graceful—when someone told me how to move. I liked the way dancing blocked out whatever else was going on in my life.
    â€œAll right, dancers.” Miss Emma appeared at the dressing room door. “Come in and have a seat. I’ve got some big news.”
    Miss Emma was a grown-up but not like my parents. She was just out of college and worked during the day at an office, doing a real job that she called “typey typey.” Sometimes she went on auditions down in New York but so far the closest she’d gotten to stardom was when she auditioned for a job at a singing restaurant near Times Square—actually standing on a table, acting like it was the front of the Titanic and singing “My Heart Will Go On”—but she botched the waiting tables trial that came after the singing. We all decided it had been for the best. Now she must have finally gotten a real part!
    â€œSoooo,” Miss Emma said as we gathered around her in a circle. “I’ve been busy doing some research and paperwork and I’m finally ready to announce that for the first time ever, we’re going to be starting a dance troupe that will compete in a statewide competition in Albany!”
    Stella squealed and clapped.
    Madison said, “Awesome.” And Nora said, “Ohmigosh, ohmigosh.”
    â€œYou, ladies, are going to Dance Nation!” Miss Emma looked around at us with wide eyes.
    Stella and I had been campaigning for this for two years—ever since we’d gotten addicted to watching videos of dance competitions on YouTube. I hadn’t realized Miss Emma had actually seriously been considering it.
    As she started handing out packets of information, Miss Emma said, “There is the form to sign up. And an explanation of additional expenses, like registration fees and travel. And there’s a parental permission slip. And all the details of the competition itself. I really hope you’ll all do it. You’re a great group, and I think we could do really well in the contemporary lyrical category if we really work our butts off these next few months.”
    I looked through the packet for the details of Dance Nation and found the date.
    June thirteenth.
    So it was official.
    We could not move before then.
    â€œShow of hands,” Miss Emma said. “Who’s game?”
    We all raised our hands and I smiled over at Stella. I had a new, real reason to tell my parents we had to stay, but she looked at me funny.
    â€œExcellent.” Miss Emma clapped some tiny claps. “That makes things easier. Our Monday class and this one will become troupe rehearsal starting next week.”
    Elizabeth said, “Yay.”
    â€œOh, and,” Miss Emma said, “if any of you are interested in competing as a soloist, let me know after class. That’s something we can discuss privately, though I should warn you that it can get expensive quickly, with the need to pay a choreographer and private classes to prepare.”
    So we all put our packets away and Miss Emma put on the song she thought we’d compete with and we finally, finally started to dance—just sort of following what she was doing and free-forming—and I started to feel strong, like I could handle anything. I’d never heard the song before but I loved it instantly. It was big and dramatic sounding, with female vocals that sounded like angels. I felt my body wake up from the tips of my toes to the top of my head as my bad mood blasted off me with each leap and turn. The energy in the room was totally different now than it had been