Could be a Star

Chapter 9

I walk into Mr Sharp's room on Wednesday night for ballet. I've brought nothing with me but I feel like I should have.

There's a man standing the the centre of the room who has long legs and is wearing red leggings. He has his arms folded and when he hears the door close behind me, he spins round to face me. 

'Hello, son,' he says in a Gordie accent

Without meaning to, I let out a little giggle then look down at my feet, ashamed. 

'Sorry,' I say

The man laughs a booming laugh, lifting his head up to face the ceiling. 

'I'm only joking around, kid,' he informs me in an accent more like mine 'Now you must be Jack?' 

I nod.

'I'm Mr Anderson but you can call me Andy,'

Right.

Wait, what?

Does that mean he's called Andy Anderson? Or Andrew Anderson. Or is Andy just a nickname because of his last name? Or is his last name just a nickname because of his first name?

I don't have time to wonder because he's asking me if i have any ballet shoes, which I don't.

'That's fine,' he says handing me a pair of white ballet shoes from his bag 'You can have these ones,'

I put them on.

'So Mr Sharp informs me that you have never danced before, is this correct?'

'Yep, never ever before this show became a thing!'

'We'll I'm here to help you fool that audience into believing that you've been dancing since before you were born!'

And so we begin. I show him the five positions and he moves my elbows and tells be to point out my toes and tuck my tummy in. 

'I'm going to show you something very important,' he says to me some time later.

He sits on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him and tells me to do the same. He points his toes forward. 

'Now these,' he tells me 'are good feet,'. Then he stretches his feet up the the ceiling 'And these are naughty feet,'

I smile.

'Repeat after me. Good feet, naughty feet. Good feet, naughty feet,' 

I copy him and we say it together. 

'Good feet, naughty feet,'

'Now you carry on doing that,' he says standing up 'Carry on and keep saying it while I talk over the top of you,'. I do as I'm told as he begins is pace around the room ''This is very important in everything you do ballet wise,'

'Good feet, naughty feet,'

'And I want you to remember it with everything I teach you,' 

'Good feet, naughty feet,'

'I want you always to have good feet,'

'Good feet, naughty feet,'

'And when you do everything right and I don't have to remind you about your feet,'

'Good feet naughty feet,'

'Then that's when I know my work is done,'

'Good feet, naughty feet,'

'Okay you can stop now,'. 

Andy-perhaps-Anderson teaches me how to plié and sits and pushes my legs down with his foot in an attempt to make me more flexiable. I feel kind of awrkward around him because he's always looking at me, every part of me and suddenly moving part of me round into a position I feel uncomfortable in. But I do my best and soon it's time for me to walk home. I thank maybe-Andy-Anderson and he tells me I've done good and that he'll see me on Friday for tap. I head to the bus stop.

Once I've paid my bus fair, I hear a voice calling my name. I scan up and down the bus to find it's owner and to my surprise, its Kate, our very own Mrs Wilkinson.

I grin and take the seat beside her.

'Eurgh, I don't you just hate the rain?' I say

'I know, I can't even remember the last time it wasn't raining!' she exclaims

'Well I guess that's what you get from living on the Most Wet Island 1996,'

'Can we get a round of applause for Palm Island please?' says Kate and we both giggle.

'Someday,' she says 'I'm going to live somewhere hot. I'm going to travel the world and I'm going to find a really hot guy to marry and then I' m going to come back to England and be on the West End!'

Kate goes on telling me her plans, how she's going to sing and dance for a living and live in London and sleep in everyday and then do a show all night. She says she won't mind being penniless if it means she gets to be on the West End.

'Because I know,' she says 'that it is exactly where I want to be! Or maybe I'll be a New Yorker and perform on Broadway and...'

She goes on. I listen and smile and laugh and think how wonderful it all sounds. But mostly I'm thinking about Kate and how I'm now quite sure why she's telling me this but that doesn't matter because she's a year 11 and she's sitting next to me on the bus and telling me about her dreams. And something about that makes me feel extremely excited.