Dancing Doll

Into The Moonlight

The air is seemingly hushed for a mid-afternoon in the busy city. The hot sun beats down onto the streets with such force that one breath can dry your throat. Eyes and bodies dart past one another, the streets, although busy, seem calm with life. Several buildings sit huddled in a row next to one another, rising stories above the other. Within one, a ballet studio, covered in pinks and white, goes on as usual with the pupils inside. Legs dart into the air at the barre as everyone grips the steel bar to hoist themselves upright. Arms and fingers extend out into an invisible crowd and pull back in towards the bodies attached to them. The routine is never different, always the same, day after day, one warm-up after the other.

            “Psst.” A voice lingers into the studio room from a small crack at the front door. A hand grips the knob, only showing the fingers of whoever posses the noise from the other end. “Psst.” Hushed as it seems, the small gesture is heard in an echo of sorts as a girl inside the room, with her dark brown hair pinned into a bun, bashfully lets her eyes fall onto the floor. The door creaks as the dance teacher irritably makes her way towards the noise.

            “Couru from one end of the room to the next, go,” As the blonde instructor waves the class away she approaches the door and flings it open. “Why do you insist on disturbing our dance class?”

            “I,” the girl steps slightly into view from the hallway. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just…I had to talk to…”

            “Eh,” the woman rose her hand, her eyes turning towards the group of girls standing on their toes. “To who does this guest belong?” One girl, a dark-haired brunette falls onto the base of her feet, her hand shyly raising into the air as the instructor signals her over with her index finger. The dance room is filled with small hushed voices as a piano begins to play from a stereo nearby, hanging in the room as a simple reminder that music is not always allowed in the world.

            “I’m sorry,” Mitchie bashfully approaches her teacher.

            “No need. This mustn’t happen again.” The instructor barks out.

            “Got it, I promise.” A nod of the head sends the woman back to her class, as Mitchie raises her eyes to the girl in front of her.

            “You wouldn’t answer your phone.”

            “Alex I’m always in the middle of class until six.”

            “I know, but my class ended early and I thought I’d let you know that your mom called and told me she’d pick you up. I was going to head home.”

            “That’s fine.” Not really irritated, Mitchie shows her friend the way out.

            “So I thought you should be the first to know,” Alex faced her friend on the balls of her feet, letting her volleyball outfit scratch her arm near the sleeve, “I’m thinking about quitting.”

            “Quitting what?” Mitchie asked, as the door to the ballet studio gently closes a few doors away from them.

            “The team. I’m tired of volleyball, I need more free time, besides I heard that the school was reopening their theater program and..”

            “And I have to get back to class.” Mitchie stops her friend from saying anything else, not truly wanting to engage in a conversation that she knew her friend would change her mind about sometime or other. “I’ll catch you at home.” The last words were said, before Mitchie made it back, she had to keep up, or else. Hours seemed to pass. The large picture windows that the dance room holds turns to a black color, only highlighting the twinkling lights of homes outside.