It's summer! Lovely, wonderful summer. Or is it? School ended earlier than my parent's school did... May 27th. And oh, how wonderful it was to be free. No schoolwork equaled no stress. It left me time to pursue what I wished and do what I pleased. However, this was not really true. Freedom? From schoolwork, but not much else. Dance became even more intense.
We were preparing for the summer showcase. Again. The time had come. Actually, we started in January. So we worked on it for six months. Six whole months! Despite this lengthy amount of time, we were nowhere near ready to perform our show, due to many girls' absences from the weekly rehearsals and classes. Anyhow, we had five-hour rehearsals on Saturdays. The week before the show (which was on the 14th of July) we had two six-hour rehearsals on Tuesday and Thursday. Then, on Saturday, we had our usual five-hour rehearsal. Between all that and attempting (failing) to have a social life, tennis, and piano lessons, I had little time for anything else.
Finally, the day came. I woke up early. Butterflies danced in my stomach as I walked carefully around the house, not wanting to hurt myself moments before the show. I twisted my hair up and quickly applied as much make-up as I dared. We arrived at the theater at ten-thirty in the morning. I checked costumes and finished putting on make-up. We were called for a dress rehearsal that was really just a spacing exercise for the first half of the show (nothing that we had choreographed for the showcase part, that is). The butterflies grew until they fluttered into my heart and made it beat faster. I was in costume, waiting in the wings.
I stepped out into the bright light of the stage, my feet dancing the steps they had learned for so many months. My pointe-shoe-clad feet picked themselves lightly up off the ground, carrying me this way and that. I was a Bluebird for Cinderella, and that's all that I was. I was no longer myself, only that wonderful person dancing madly on that brightly lit stage.
And I was off. I scurried down several flights of stairs to the crowded, smelly, sweaty dressing room. I changed my costume and returned upstairs. This was It. My solo. What I had been waiting for (and fearing) for so long. I stood in the wings, nearly shaking. I plastered I smile on my face, hoping it didn't look as nervous as I felt. I took my position, waiting for the music to start.
It started loudly. I took off, leaping and traipsing about the stage. I flew through the air, feeling the hot lights above me and the soft click of my pointe shoes against the Marley as I landed. Finally the end came- the part I feared the most. Italian Fuettes - for those of you (are you there?) who don't know, it consists of pushing yourself onto pointe from one leg putting the other in the air, and then swinging your leg around and to the back (attitude derrière) and back onto pointe. Very difficult. My first was close to perfection. On my second, I didn't make it back onto pointe as I came around. I hurried offstage after hastily bowing. Tears burned my eyes. I felt ridiculous for crying at one little thing. I kept the tears from spilling down my face, but barely.
I changed again and returned to the stage as a ballroom-goer. I danced the steps I knew, angrily speaking through my grinning teeth to the little girls who had no idea what in the world they were doing. Finally, Cinderella (time #1) was over. We shouted as the curtain came down with joy and the succession of our show. I looked forward to the second half.
The first dance of the second half was not interesting in any way. The second dance was the reason I dance. It was one of the greatest experiences of my life. It was a quartet my friend and I had choreographed to "Hey Soul Sister" by Train. The stage lights beat down on me, and the floor was solid beneath my bare feet. My feet moved and twisted and I felt so free and so alive. It sounds cheesy, I know. But it's true! I didn't think of anything but the dance. The smile on my face was real, not forced. It felt like heaven must feel. It was like a ray of sunshine on a rainy day, a fire in a cold room. I left the stage feeling euphoric. The final dance, to "California Star" by Wilco just added to my generally fantastic feeling.
Believe it or not, the second show was even better. My teacher told me that the "Hey Soul Sister" dance brought tears to her eyes, which I did not fully understand, but figure it meant something good.
Now that dance is over, I don't know what to do with myself. I'm just waiting for it to start again (July 5th) and to go to camp (July 15th). So I wait. And now, good-night, dear readers, who may or may not exist. Good-night.
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