Dedicating Every Day to You

Chapter Nine

I rush from homeroom to math class, then from math directly to the bathrooms. I have six minutes to change, get into class, and then lace up my shoes and start stretching. I guess that's what I get for not just wearing my leotard and tights underneath my outfit today.

Once in class, I slide into my pointe shoes and begin to lace them up while looking around. This is the Advanced Ballet program, the highest level there is here at school, and I'm the youngest by easily three years. I feel so sloppy with my old leotard and scuffed-up shoes and wild bun (which is slowly unraveling with every movement).

A tall man enters the studio, wearing all black. He's tall and pale, with chestnut hair and hazel eyes. His eyes fix upon everyone, one at a time. I hold my head high and look right back at him. I refuse to be intimidated on my very first morning here.

"Students!" His voice is resounding and deep. "You have come to the Advanced program, but today will be our day of reckoning. Who stays...and who is bumped back to Intermediate."

I begin my stretches while we listen.
"Each of you will perform a short piece to a song of your choice. If you pass, you may continue in my class. If you fail, you will be demerited to Madame Amelia's dance class."

I know exactly what I'm dancing to. Back at Miss Falcon's, Emmy would play the piano for me while I danced. Sometimes she would sing along or invent words to classical pieces, but sometimes we would just let the music and my dancing speak for themselves.

"Who's first?" The man snarls, giving us all the once-over like a drill sergeant. No one steps up, so I raise my hand quietly.
"I'll be dancing to Für Elise, please," I say, then flex my ankles and stand in the center of the floor.

The music starts, tinny from the speakers of the boom box. I close my eyes and try to place myself back in the dining room at Miss Falcon's house. Emmy is at the piano, her honey-colored hair swinging as she plays seamlessly.

I get up on my toes and begin, first tentatively, to dance. I begin in adagio, my motions slow and flowing, like water. I am fluid and smooth, but uncomplicated.
The music speeds up, and I adjust myself to the tempo. I am allegro now, fast and whipping, limbs a blur. I've found my stride now, and I kick out, trying to keep myself as unending as the music.

The song finishes, and I stand in fifth position, arms out and head bowed. The other students applaud politely, and I walk over to the corner of the room and begin working on a new routine as the next dancer steps up.

Emmy was writing a song all her own, one that tells a story without words. I was coming up with a dance to go along with it. It was a song that was her whole soul, a dance that was my whole spirit. But now our souls and spirits are two hours away from each other.

Our dance master, Chad, has us run some of the most intense numbers in all of ballet. By the end of the two hour session, I'm sweating and about ready to die. I think I've lost every electrolyte in my entire body.

When class is dismissed, I go straight to the cafeteria, ready for a calorie-fest and some serious Gatorade. I get in line and order a blue Powerade, some fries, and a giant salad. Even if I'm drained, I have to watch my figure as a dancer...but that chocolate chip cookie looks too good to pass up.

I hear someone calling my name. "Yo Kathryn! Over here!"
It's Theodosia, waving to me from a corner table by the window. Her beret is a little skewed and her shirt is splattered with paint, but she looks cheerful enough.

"Hi," I reply, perching on the edge of my chair and setting my tray down.

Next to Theodosia is a pretty girl about our age. She's short and has kinky hair, which is short and hangs in a cute chunk on one side of her face. She looks to be biracial, like I am, and she's dressed simply, in a black skirt and a white shirt with a treble clef swooping across it. She has sparkly red Converse on, and they flash on her feet.

"It's nice to finally meet you," the girl says, smiling at me. "Theo's been talking my ear off about you all through Science class."
"You must be Harriet," I conclude, taking a sip of my Powerade. "It's nice to meet you, too."
Theodosia sets down her sandwich and looks between us. "So, Kathryn, I assume you're a dancer?"

I swallow the giant bite of salad that I've just taken. "What makes you say that?"
"Well, the ballet shoes that you put down just now are probably a clue," Harriet says, laughing. She's not really eating, just moving her food back and forth on her plate.
"I am indeed a dancer. I've been up on pointe for almost two years now." I don't add that those two years have been divided amongst three different dance studios.

"I'm a painter," Theo offers, gesturing at the paint stains on her shirt. "Specifically, I do chalk art. You know, MC Escher type stuff." "And I sing," Harriet says, picking at her glittery red nail polish. She doesn't elaborate, and she seems a little shy.

Theo smacks Harriet on the arm. "Girl, you don't just sing. There's some kind of freaky magic going on with that voice. You have to show Kat."
Harriet stares down at her feet, then starts to hum a melody. It's familiar, and Theodosia begins to hum along too. I snap my fingers as Harriet starts to sing.

"There's a fire, starting in my heart. Reaching a fever pitch, it's bringing me out the dark." Her voice is low and beautiful, like a jazz singer. As she sings, she becomes less reticent and more animated. She hits all of the notes, and when she's finished, the whole cafeteria explodes with applause. Theo wolf-whistles, and I'm cheering and hopping.

Harriet is facing the wall, and when I look at her she's buried her face in her hands.
"Hey," I say softly. "Are you embarrassed? I'm sorry."
Harriet laughs. "No, I'm proud. I just wish my dad was here to see it."
I'm perplexed. "Who's your dad?"
"Thomas Jefferson." She blushes, smiling awkwardly but still not making eye contact. "But I'm Harriet Hemings. It's a long story."

I smile at her. "You and Theodosia are speaking at Washington's press conference at the end of the month, right?"
"Yeah! We'll mention you in our speeches!"
I giggle, hiding my face behind my hair. "I'll mention you, too."
An instant explosion. Theo hugs me and screeches in my ear. Harriet hops up and down.

I know I'll never be able to replace Emmy, but with these two, I feel like I've healed the little hole in my heart that appeared when I left.