One Perfect Pirouette Read Free Page B

practice to do if I was going to have any chance of being picked for it.
    I needed to work out a training routine. Since we’d moved from Mackles Creek, north of Bendigo, a week ago, I’d had no chance to practise at all – what with packing, unpacking and helping Mum. Back home, I’d been able to sneak into the local scout hall through a back window and dance all I wanted. There was even a rail under the flags I could use as a barre.
    But here in Melbourne, my family barely squeezed into this tiny house, and Tam and Orrin having to share a room had caused major explosions. I tried to point out that I was squashed into the sunroom at the back, which would be sauna-hot in the summer, but Orrin didn’t care. He’d had his own room at home since he was twelve, and having to share with Tam again when he was sixteen sucked.
    I would have offered Orrin the sunroom, but Tam was the stinkiest boy I’d ever met. His socks would drive a hibernating grizzly bear out of its cave, let alone a smaller sister. How was it possible for a fifteen year-old to smell so bad?
    I listed the main barre and centre exercises from the morning class and added others from Mrs Calzotti’s routines. The list kept growing, but all the exercises were essential. Where could I practise? Our rickety garage had a concrete floor and every room in the house was carpeted. Maybe if I searched around the neighbourhood, I might find something like the old scout hall.
    â€˜Mum, I’m going for a walk.’
    â€˜No, you’re not.’ She emerged from the poky laundry off the kitchen. ‘You can help me hang out this washing, then tidy up the lounge room.’
    â€˜But –’
    â€˜No “but”s. We can’t move in this house as it is. If I let things build up anywhere, we won’t be able to get in the front door.’
    She gave me her look that said, We’re doing this for you, so you’d better do your share and more to make it easier.
    When I’d finished doing jobs for Mum, I escaped and walked slowly around the block, checking out the suburb. The houses were a mix of old and new, but the one we were renting was ancient. It stank of about a hundred years of boiled cabbage and old lady’s talcum powder. Some houses were being renovated and one had been pulled down. All that was left of it was a long stretch of dirt with a small pile of rocks to one side.
    I turned the corner and there was my new school. I stood by the high wire fence, wondering what it was going to be like. There were only a few weeks left of this term, and that was bad enough, but also I’d be at a new school with kids who had been friends since Prep. My fingers curled around the wire and I bit my lip. I’d never been in a new school with no friends.
    It looked like any school, with long, low classroom buildings, a sports field and a hall. On one side was an adventure playground for the little kids, with sails over it for the sun, and in between the buildings was a big asphalt area, probably where the netball court would be.
    I walked along a bit further and found an open gate. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to wander around the school on the weekend, but the place was deserted. I wanted to see what the classrooms were like, whether they seemed friendly or not. That was what I told myself – but really I was looking for dancing space.
    Through the first row of windows, I could see walls covered in pictures and posters; mobiles and coloured cellophane balls hung from the ceiling. Just like my old school. My eyes filled with tears. On Monday, my friends would all be crowding into our classroom, laughing and shoving and Ms Green would yell at them to sit down and be quiet, like always. Would they miss me? Would they even notice I wasn’t there?
    What was I doing here? Tam had said I’d ruined everyone’s life just so I could be a ballet dancer, and he looked at me sometimes like he wished I was