• Vol. 06
  • Chapter 12


my under thigh goes taut with that ouchie good that goooood stretch of pain. but the other girls do it so easy, leggy and slick as cream their feet go up to the ear, while ouchie my crotch bone is on fire and my tummy is doing none of the work, all the work is between my hand clutching my ankle, my two ends grabbing for each other, joined at the wrong end of minus and plus so i’m wonky. sandra sometimes goes round the class with her two fingers swiping at our buttocks clenched like fists in first position and says ‘you need to lose some’ to some. you lose things with the constant push higher like i went on pointe too early and my toenails. one by one. went black. and all fell off in a week. hehe. when you smile you light up a room though, honey, shuffle in the queue. hush. melanie sight-reading on piano, twinkly stravinsky, lights up, head up, chin jaunty, toes pointy, flourish of the arms – spraying cloudy taffeta over my awkwardness, much more awkward. just notice it is dark outside the classroom and think about having chilli con carne for dinner. and hair pins fly out in the pirouette, hair sags into old granny bun, stumble on the final ronde de jamb, land the jeté like a heffalump and scuttle off as it all goes quiet.