Genevieve Rose Chap. 1

Genevieve Rose- Chapter 1

         I walk into my ballet studio and just breathe in. Nobody is here yet, so I take the time to re-sew my pointe shoes for class. I feel like the once shiny ribbons are starting to slowly abandon themselves from the shoe itself. Even my pointe shoes are starting to die. In about a month I will need new ones.  Their shiny rose color has started to blacken from various dance floors.

                One thing I learned from myself in my 3rd year of pointe was this; “You must always trust your shoes”. I learned this when I was learning how to perform coupé pirouettes on pointe, and I was always so nervous when I turned, so I fell countless amounts of times. Then I got insecure, so I told myself that I needed to trust my shoes. Trust my shoes. Trust my shoes.

                The shoes will always help you succeed. I personally take that to heart.

                Mr. Sean walks into the room, me mist sewing. “Hello Miss Genevieve” he says sipping his coffee. I wave, and look down to my stiches. They are small, close together, and now circle the ribbon. I start on the other shoe. Alex, Rachel, and Zach walk into the room, all glued to the hip. 5 minutes later, Liza walks in, with her enormous bag full of shoes, clothes, and homework. She sits next to me.

                “Did you hear about the surprise?” she says, her voice low.

                “No, what about it?” I ask. Surprise? What surprise? I am almost done with my last shoe.  These stiches are looser than my right shoe. Oh well. I look up to Liza. She wears a lilac colored leotard with a black tie skirt, and a nervous expression.

                “Mrs. Lynn has a surprise for us tonight…She seems really excited about it too.” Liza says while putting on her toe pads carefully.  “Maybe you didn’t get the email about it?” she adds.

        “No, I don’t think I gave her my email address.” I say, focusing on taping my toes. They are particularly uncooperative today.

        “Oh, that’s why then. I can’t believe I haven’t mentioned it!” she laughs.

        “I can’t believe it either” I grin, sliding my toe spacers into space. I put on my pink cloth toe pads and slide on my pointe shoes. They feel soft and grip my toes and heels where they need to. It might be a good day for ballet.

        The rest of the class slowly trickles in when me and Liza stretch, and class starts soon enough.

                Plies, ton dues, fondues, grande battemes, and adages are all a part of the barre work. Then we move out to center. I get yelled at for not placing my arms correctly when I travel with my feet across the floor. That is the usual Genevieve though; the one who always and forever will look like a flailing bird when moving in any piece, anywhere.

                The class as a whole feels very slow and lazy today. It is a dark shade of grey outside, as if the sky might decide to rain if it has the energy. Mr. Sean yells “Pick up the pace Alex! Liza, move with feeling! Zach!! What are you even doing?”

        What are we even doing? Preparing ourselves for future opportunities, jobs, or scholarships? Or are we just dancing for fun and for the love of being on stage? I know that I am not. I want something bigger out of my long nights, bloody and bruised feet and hard work.

        Sometimes I just have to except that there are no opportunities here, and that I will never be discovered.

        Sometimes I need to get my head out of the clouds. Get out of fairytale land.

        “Genevieve, are you listening?!” Mr. Sean shouts at me.

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        One thing people don't really understand about me is that I am actually very outgoing in real life. Ha! Real life. What is this; fake life?

        Anyways, I am very shy when I first meet people who I dont know. They get the impression that I am that one girl who sits in the back of class and doesn't raise her hand much. Which is partly true. I dont raise my hand in math.

        My best friend Liza will tell you that I am a crazy person. She thinks I have a ballet problem (again, which is partly true). In fact, that would be 100% true becuase even I myself will admit it. I have been discussing being a professional ballet teacher since I found out about The School of American Ballet. SAB is the best ballet school in the US. Hands down. No discussion about it.

        I live in Washington DC. Yes, the district. No, not Maryland. Nope, not Virginia. The actual DC. Its amazing. I have loved it here in the city and plan on never leaving. But, I do have a secret indulgement for New York City. It's bursting with life, ideas, energy and excitement.  The air may not be clean, but the things you can do there are endless.

        I have been wanting a scholarship to SAB for practically 2 years now. It is so hard to imagine a life without doing ballet for the rest of my life. Impossible. I just want an oppurtunity for the future that I dream of everytime I lay down to sleep. I just want the impossible.

        Is that to much to ask for?