Three girls left the line to drop wads of gum in the basket.

I was glad that the clerk at Dancer's World had told us about Madame Minoff's strict rule about hair being pulled back. My dad had pinned my braids on top of my head. Claudia, her hair in a ponytail, was standing in front of me. Kristy, her hair held back with a black headband, was behind me. Other kids who were friends had lined up near one another, too. But no one was talking above a whisper. And none of us knew what would - happen next.

An elderly gentleman, with gla.s.ses perched on the tip of his nose, entered the studio and sat at the piano in a corner of the room.

Suddenly a tall, slender woman with black hair tied in a bun strode into the room. All the whispering stopped. "I am Madame Mm-off," she announced. She waved a walking stick in Claudia's direction and commanded, "Two steps back, please." Madame Minoff smiled at the piano player. "Well, at least we don't have any tutus this summer, Mr. Riley," she commented. He answered her by smiling and hitting a few celebratory chords on the piano. A few girls giggled. I guess Claudia, Kristy, and I weren't the only ones who had thought ballet cla.s.s meant wearing tutus.

After directing another girl to move two steps - forward, Madame Minoff was satisfied that we were evenly s.p.a.ced, and cla.s.s began.

Madame Minoff explained that ballet exercises had French names, but that we would have no trouble understanding what they were since Charlene would be demonstrating the exercises for us. For the first exercises we were to hold onto the barre with one hand. We did plies, grand plies, batternents, and developpes. While we worked through these movements, Madame Minoff walked up and down in front of us making corrections. "Point, little one," she directed Kristy. "Stretch the toes."

I tensed whenever Madame approached me. I was terrified that she would use me to show the cla.s.s how not to do an exercise. She'd already singled out another girl who leaned forward when she did a grand plie. The only correction I received from Madame Minoff during -that first cla.s.s was to relax the arm holding the barre.

At quarter to ten, Madame Minoff hit the floor with three loud taps of her stick. "To the center, young dancers," she commanded. Soon, with Charlene's help, we were s.p.a.ced out in two rows with our backs to the mirrors.

For the next fifteen minutes we practiced a sequence of steps called pas de bourree. It was hard for me to learn. I couldn't seem to remember when to place one foot in front of, or behind, the other. And I always seemed to finish the dance step after everyone else.

At ten o'clock the first period of our first day of ballet was over and we went out to the hallway to have a snack of apple juice and peanut b.u.t.ter crackers. - "Ballet's fun," said Claudia.

"It's going to make me strong," said Kristy. "All those battements are great - for leg muscles."

I didn't say anything.

After snacks we returned to the studio to watch a video of The Nutcracker. Madame Mm-off explained the story, which I had never heard. I loved The Nutcracker and even recognized the melody my father had been humming that morning. I couldn't wait to tell him. I thought, if this is ballet cla.s.s, I will survive it just fine.

After ballet story and video hour we returned to our positions at the barre and repeated a few of the exercises we'd done during first period. "To warm up the muscles," Madame Minoff explained. Then we were back in two neat rows on the floor to practice pas de bourree. "Pas - de - bourree," Madame Minoff directed as she tapped her stick -for each step we were to take. "One - two - three. One - two - three." I finally managed to finish the sequence when everyone else did. I was learning. I was dancing. I felt pretty good.

Two rapid hits of the stick on the floor. "Go over to the corner of the room," Madame Mm-off commanded. We did. "Now, one by one, come across the room on the diagonal. Walk three steps, starting with your left foot. Then pas de bourree. And repeat. Walk - two -three. Pas - de - bourree. You will do this until you reach the other side of the room. Charlene will go first to demonstrate."

One by one? I would have to dance across the floor in front of the whole cla.s.s, Charlene, Mr. Riley, and Madame Minoff. I thought of asking to go to the bathroom, but that would single me out, too. My heart pounded, my face flushed, sweat gathered on my palms.

I counted the girls standing in front of me. I would be the fifth one to go, right after Claudia. Claudia - made a mistake and Madame Minoff had her start over. But Claudia didn't seem to mind, and the second time she walked and pas de bourree'd gracefully across the floor with arms extended and toes pointed just when they should be.

"Very good turnout, Claudia," Madame Minoff said. Claudia beamed as she joined the growing cl.u.s.ter of girls at the other end of the room. I was trembling.

Madame Minoff boomed, "Next!" She was talking to me. Mr. Riley pounded a chord to indicate I should begin. "Now," Madame Mm-off barked. "First position, left foot extended, and walk. One - two - three. Pas - de - - bourree." It seemed to take me a lifetime to get to the other side of the room. And my pas de bourrees were a mess. "That was good," Claudia whispered. But I knew it wasn't.

I'm not sure how I survived the rest of the hour. We did pa5 de bourrees across the room three more times. I longed to be home watching soap operas and game shows with Mrs. Cuddy. Anything would be better than dancing in front of other people.

On the way home, Claudia and Kristy told Mrs. Thomas all about ballet cla.s.s - how they both-loved it. I didn't admit that I hated and dreaded it. I was ashamed of how much it upset me to be the center of attention. I didn't even want to be the center of attention for saying I didn't want to be the center of attention.

As the week dragged on I could see that no one else in ballet cla.s.s minded dancing in front of one another the way I did. And no one else seemed unhappy in ballet cla.s.s. I didn't mind the first hour at the barre too much. And I thought ballet story and video hour was neat. But the hour from eleven to twelve became more and more difficult for me to endure.

I thought of asking my father if I could quit. Then I remembered how excited he was about my taking ballet cla.s.ses. And - how it helped him with the problem of needing baby-sitters for me in the summer. I didn't want to disappoint him by quitting. I also thought that if I stuck it out, by the end of a month of ballet cla.s.ses I just might be cured of my terrible shyness.

On Thursday, Madame Minoff began stringing steps together into sequences. And each of us had to perform them for the others. On top of my embarra.s.sment - or maybe because of it - I had trouble remembering the steps. I wasn't the worst in the cla.s.s. But I came pretty close. More reason to be embarra.s.sed.

On Friday, at the beginning of ballet story and video hour, Madame Minoff said, "We are coming to the end of our first week of ballet cla.s.s, young dancers. Next week we will start learning a ballet for our recital. It will be held on the Sat.u.r.day after our final day of cla.s.ses. Your parents and friends will be invited, and other summer cla.s.ses will' be doing demonstrations and performances." - Several children clapped gleefully. Claudia whispered to me, "A recital. That'll be so much fun." She raised her hand and asked, "Madame Minoff, will we have costumes?" - "Indeed," answered Madame Minoff. "Our dance will be to the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy." She smiled at Charlene. "Charlene will be the Sugar Plum Fairy." Charlene made a little curtsy and we all clapped.

Madame Minoff pa.s.sed around photos of the recital from the year before, when-her cla.s.s also performed the dance. Everyone but' me ooh-ed and aah-ed. The dancers were wearing pink tutus and sparkling sequined tiaras. The Sugar - Plum Fairy wore a white silky skirt, a larger and fancier tiara, and toe shoes. My heart pounded in my chest and my hands became clammy as I looked at those photos. The Sugar Plum Fairy and her dancers were on the huge stage at the Y and the seats of the auditorium were filled with spectators.

I would have to go on a stage and dance in front of a crowd of mostly strangers! How could I dance in front of a whole auditorium of people if I was so painfully frightened dancing in front of my cla.s.smates and teacher? I had sweaty palms just thinking about the recital. Surely I would die. My eyes filled with tears. But no one noticed, not even Claudia or Kristy. Everyone else was too excited about being in the recital and wearing tutus.

I woke up to the music from The Nutcracker. I opened my eyes. My father - a big grin across his face - was standing over me humming the melody from the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. "Wake up, little Sugar Plum," he said. "I'll be in the kitchen making your breakfast. Two hours until showtime."

My heart sank. The day I'd dreaded had arrived.

I went down to the kitchen where the smell of ham and french toast greeted me. "I made you an-extra special breakfast," my father said. "You have a big morning ahead of you."

I didn't have the heart to tell my dad that I didn't want breakfast. So I ate what he placed in front of me.

"Remind me to stop at the video store on the way to the Y," he said. "I need a blank tape. I'm going to videotape your part of the recital. I want to have a permanent record of your first dance performance."

"I forgot to tell you," I said. "Madame Mm-off said no videotaping. Someone from the Y is going to make a videotape of us dancing. You can buy it for ten dollars." I was practically choking on the words. Not only would people be watching me onstage, but they'd be watching me over and over on their TV screens, too.

"What a good idea," my dad said. He looked at me carefully. "Your voice sounded funny just then. Are you coming down with a cold?"

I didn't tell him I was choking from fear. But I did consider saying, "Yes, I have a cold and I'd better stay home from the recital." But I stopped myself. I thought of how disappointed my dad would be if I wasn't in the recital. And how disappointed I would be in myself if I didn't overcome my fear. I took a sip of juice to clear my throat and said, "I don't think I have a cold."

"That's good," he said with a sigh of relief. "I'd hate to have you miss the recital. Do you want another piece of french toast?"

My stomach was gurgling over the two pieces I'd already eaten. "No," I managed to say. "I'm full."

My stomach gurgled again. I needed to get away from the breakfast smells - quickly. "I better get dressed," I told my dad. And I ran up to my room.

I pulled on my pink tights and a new pink leotard. The rest of our costumes - silver-sequined tiaras and pink tutus polka-dotted with silver sequins - belonged to the Y and would be lent to us for the performance. - Madame Minoff told us to be in the studio forty-five minutes before the recital so we'd have plenty of time to put on the rest of our costumes and warm up. As we pulled into the parking spot at the Y my father said, "You're pretty quiet today, honey. Is anything wrong?"

"I'm nervous," I admitted.

He smiled. "That's normal. Even the biggest stars are nervous before a performance. They say it gives them energy to go out there and do a great job."

"Oh," I said.

We entered the Y through the main entrance. The halls were bustling with kids and adults. It seemed that everyone but me was looking forward to the recital. My father walked me to the studio.

"I'll go right to the auditorium," he said. "I want to have a good seat." He bent over and kissed me on the forehead. "I can't wait to see you onstage. I'm very proud of you."

In the studio Charlene was helping excited dancers into their tutus an-d tiaras. Claudia and Kristy were already wearing theirs. They ran over to me. Claudia glowed with excitement as she pas de bourree'd and curtsied in front of me. Kristy seemed excited about wearing a costume and performing onstage, too. "But I still would rather play sports than be a dancer," she said.

Claudia and Kristy each took one of my hands and led me over to Charlene. It was time to put on the rest of my costume.

A few minutes later I stood at the mirror waiting to do warm-up exercises. I looked at my reflection. The tutu and tiara transformed the outside of me into a fairy princess. But the inside of me was a ma.s.s of nerves. My stomach was upset. My heart was pounding. My palms were sweaty. I was so terrified at the idea of performing onstage that I felt as if I might throw up any minute.

On the third plie, I let go of the barre and dashed out of the room.

I arrived at the toilet bowl without a second to spare. By the time I'd finished throwing up Charlene and Kristy were in the bathroom, too.

I came out of the stall feeling weak and dizzy. I leaned against the sink.

"Are you all right?" asked Charlene.

"Mary Anne, what happened?" asked Kristy.

"I threw up," I whispered hoa.r.s.ely.

"It's nerves," said Charlene. "It happened to me once, but you know what?"

"What?" I asked.

"I still went onstage and danced great. How do you feel now?"

"Okay," I replied, even though I didn't.

"Well, let's go back to the studio. You can sit out the rest of the warm-up. I bet you'll feel just fine when you're on that stage."

I wondered what would happen if I had to throw up on the stage in the middle of the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. At the thought of that, I dashed back into the stall and threw up a little bit more.

When I came out, Kristy wasn't there. I figured she'd returned to the studio so she wouldn't miss too much of the warm-up. But when I went back to the studio myself, she wasn't in the lineup of tutu'd dancers doing grand battements.

Madame Minoff glanced my way. I gave her a weak smile and sat in the corner. She smiled back her approval.

A minute later Kristy entered the studio, followed by my father. He motioned me to come out into the hall with him. So I did.

He took my hand and squatted so he'd be my height. "Kristy tells me you were sick, honey," he said. "What's going on?"

"I'm just nervous," I answered. "It happened to Charlene once."

"I told you that performers are often nervous before a performance," he said. "They're nervous because they're excited. Is that why you're nervous, because you're excited about being in a recital?"

I shook my head. "I'm nervous because I don't want to be in the recital. I don't like to dance in front of people, even -my friends. It makes me feel too scared."

He looked upset by that idea, too. "I didn't know that."

"But I can do it, Dad," I said. "I'll be in the recital."

"If you don't want to, maybe you shouldn't," my father said. "Why should you put yourself through this?"

"I have to. It's part of ballet cla.s.s. Kristy and Claudia are doing it."

"That doesn't mean you have to be in the recital."

"You want me to be in it. You said so yourself. It would make you sad if I wasn't in the recital."

"Whoa," my father said. "Hold on, there. How can I be happy about something that makes you unhappy? I'd never want my little girl to do something that makes her so frightened she becomes sick over it. You don't have to be in the recital, Mary Anne. What do you want for yourself? Right now?"

Tears streamed down my face. I couldn't stop them. "I don't want to be in the recital, Dad," I sobbed. "I just don't."

He put his arms around me and I hugged him. "Then you shouldn't be in it, honey. I'll tell your teacher and we'll go home. Okay?"

I pulled off my tiara and handed it to him. Then I stepped out of the tutu and gave him that. "Give these to the teacher," I said. "I'll wait here for you. And tell Kristy and Claudia that I'm okay."

A few minutes later Dad and I were in the car driving home.

"Mary Anne," my father said, "I want you to make me a promise."

"What?" I asked.

"I want you to promise me that the next time you're unhappy about something you'll tell me about it. Will you promise me that?"

"I promise," I said.

My dad and I exchanged a smile. I felt so lucky to have such a wonderful father.

"Now, how's that stomach of yours doing?" he asked.

I swallowed and realized that my stomach was fine. "I feel okay," I said.

"Good," he said. "I thought maybe we'd go to the mall and buy ourselves a new barbecue grill. And then do a big grocery shopping.

Maybe we could have a barbecue tonight and invite the Thomases and the Kishis. Would you like that?"

"That'd be fun," I said. "But can we go home first so I can put on my regular clothes?"

"Absolutely," he said. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"And if it's okay, I don't want to take ballet next summer," I said. "Neither does Kristy."

"No more ballet cla.s.ses," he promised. I suddenly realized that I couldn't wait to see my friends and hear all about the recital. I wondered when they would have the videotape to show me. I'd love to see the tape now that I wasn't in it.

I started humming the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. Dad joined in. We were both happy.

Chapter 5.

"It's the first year we aren't all in the same room," complained Kristy. We were on the way to school for the first day of fourth grade. From the postcards we'd received the week before we knew that Kristy and Claudia were a.s.signed to Cla.s.s 4A with Mr. Adams and that I would be in Cla.s.s 4B with Ms. Elison.

"They can't split- us up," Claudia declared. "You have to be in our cla.s.s, Mary Anne."

"Your dad should go to school and say he wants you in Mr. Adams' cla.s.s," said Kristy.

"I don't think my dad would do that," I said. Actually, I didn't want to be taken out of Ms. Elison's cla.s.s. I'd watched her with her cla.s.ses at school a.s.semblies and in the schoolyard. And once she'd visited our cla.s.s to tell us about a city-wide poetry contest. To me Ms. Elison was the perfect teacher. She was smart, pretty, self-confident, and cheerful. I wasn't going to give up being in Ms. Elison's cla.s.s for anything.

"Welcome to fourth grade," Ms. Elison said when I walked into her beautifully decorated cla.s.sroom on the first day of school. I looked around. One bulletin board told me we'd be studying American history and from another I learned that we'd be studying poetry. I couldn't wait to learn American history and poetry from Ms. Elison.