Savannah was up bright and early the next morning. She had technique class at 9:00. She rolled out of bed at 7:30 and got to her vanity mirror. Following schedule, she washed her face, twisted her hair into a bun, ate a bowl of granola and soy milk, then changed into tights and her leotard. By the time she was done with that, it was 8:07. That left her 23 minutes to take a walk and then half an hour to stretch at the studio classroom. Savannah gathered her bags just as Dallas was waking up for her first class, creative writing.
"Hey, Sav," she said.
"Good morning, Dallas. I'm taking a walk then going straight to technique."
"Aw, leaving so soon?"
"Sticking to schedule," replies Savannah.
They waved goodbye and Savannah was out the door. Savannah pulled out her phone and texted Abigail.
Savannah: Taking a walk around the park before class. Join me?
A minute later, Abigail texted back.
Abigail: Yes!! Meet outside the cafeteria.
The girls met and walked to the park together.
• • •
Henry had woken up early too, and was planning on reading a bit of Harry Potter in the park. With backpack slung over shoulder, and hopes of seeing Heather the blonde again, he walked out the door.
• • •
Dallas had been keeping this to herself, but she'd been feeling kind of weird lately. Empty. Well, that's the closest she could get to describing it. She had begun keeping a notebook that she wrote poems in. She wrote poems about how she feels. She wasn't planning on showing it to anyone soon, so she kept it in her sock drawer. The poems she wrote were beautiful, but no one had read them and was able to tell her that, so she didn't think much of them. Dallas planned on only writing in it when she was alone. And since Savannah was out taking a walk, Dallas dragged herself to her sock drawer and grabbed her notebook. She spent a moment flipping through the many pages and poems she had written. She took hold of a black pen and found the next empty page.
• • •
Henry perched on a bench and kept an eye out for Heather. His Harry Potter book was open and he was watching people pass, hoping Heather would walk by. He had decided that he had a crush on Heather. And this wasn't the small, simple kind of crush. It was the kind of crush where you think about them all the time and seeing them makes your stomach flutter. He had only known her for less than a day (if you'd call it them 'knowing' each other), but he thought it was love at first sight. For him, at least.
30 minutes passed and there was no sight of Heather. But there was 15 minutes until history, and after history there was science, where he knew for a fact that she would be.
• • •
"Dancers, listen up please," spoke Ms. Reynolds. "The time has come where we start Nutcracker rehearsals."
All of the dancers who had attended DAAPA previous years squealed and high fived. Savannah smiled and glanced at Abigail.
"For all of our new dancers, every year we put on an annual performance of Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker. And around this time is when we start casting." More squeals and applause from the dancers.
"Abigail, casting ballets here is like, a really big deal!!" whispered Savannah.
"I cast students based on how they dance and behave in class, meaning we never hold auditions for parts. If you are wishing to not participate in this years production of The Nutcracker, sign your name on this list so we are guaranteed not to accidentally cast you." Ms. Reynolds held out a clipboard with papers and a pen attached. Two girls and one boy stepped forward to sign the papers.
"With the help of Mr. John Turn, a guest dancer from the Metropolitan Company of Ballet, we will have the cast list up by Friday. That gives us four days, including today to watch you dance in class and determine your skill." Ms. Reynolds clapped. "Now let's start dancing."
• • •
In Dallas's 9:00 class, she had a teacher named Mrs. Anderson. He began class by saying "Now that everyone in Creative Writing has gotten to know each other, I believe it's time for me to assign the first writing project."
Some students were throwing paper balls and doodling and passing notes.
"We're going to begin the first lesson in CW with poetry. Now, I know some of you may be familiar with poetry, and some not. I will explain what rhyming schemes are and...." The rest of what Mrs. Anderson was saying sounded like blank paper since Dallas took a poetry class a few years ago.
Dallas stopped daydreaming just in time to actually hear the assignment.
"I want each of you to pick an object that you identify as. Write a poem about the object. I want it to be free verse and short. Bring it back to me on Friday and I will grade it. Now, tomorrow and the following days, until Friday, we'll be focusing on symbolism in poems."
Then class was dismissed and Dallas had a missing class.
• • •
In science, Henry didn't get to talk to Heather much because she sat in the front of the room and he sat in the back by Dallas.
"Oh my God, Henry. Shut up. You can talk to her tomorrow. Or next week. Or next month," said Dallas. She was tired of Henry talking about Heather.
"I know, it's just I was looking forward to seeing her today. And it's unfair."
Dallas rolled her eyes.
• • •
At lunch, Savannah, Dallas, Abigail, and Henry had a table with 4 seats to themselves.
"So anything new in your classes?" asked Henry.
Savannah grinned and said "Yes! The Nutcracker casting is happening and the list goes up on Friday."
"Oh yeah, Savannah, what's the deal with that? Why does everyone care so much about it?" asked Abigail.
"Oh yeah, I heard about that. Why is it such a big deal to ballet people?" said Henry.
"The ballets are one of the main things you get graded on at DAAPA. If you don't do the ballet, you have to take night classes to make up your grade. And of course, it's always a competition to see who gets what part."
"Ooh. I see. Night classes don't sound fun," said Abigail.
"They're not. My first year here, I skipped the ballet. Big mistake."
Henry glanced at Dallas.
"What's with you?" said Henry.
"What?" Dallas barked at him.
Henry's eyebrows went up. "Nothing, just wondering how your classes went."
"Fine. We're doing poetry and I have an assignment due Friday."
Lunch continued and ended and them students resumed their classes.
YOU ARE READING
Pointe Shoes, Pen Ink, and Rosin
Teen FictionThree students meeting at a school for the arts. They connect and build a friendship stronger than anyone would have ever imagined. A ballet dancer A cello player And a writer.