Pointe Of No Return. (W.I.P)

Chapter 1:

"Come on, girls.  To the barre for cool down stretches.  Quickly now."  Diane smiled as fifteen adorable six year old's found their place.  Each girl with their hair tightly up in a bun, wearing black leotards, white tights and pink ballet slippers started their exercises.  Pliě after plié the girls worked to perfect their techniques as Diane walked around them, correcting postures and arm and leg positions until all were accurate - or as close as a six year old could get.

"Miss Diane," Judy, a little blonde girl, called out.  "Miss Diane when will we get our costumes for the summer recital?"

Smiling, Diane knew first-hand how exciting new costumes are.  She had ordered them a month ago and was just as anxious to get them as the kids were.

"Should be a couple more weeks, Judy.  I can't wait to show them to you girls." 

After the ten-minute stretches had come to an end, Diane dismissed her class, watching them return to their parents while excitedly telling them about the upcoming costumes.

Exiting the dance room, Diane chit-chatted with a few of the parents, praising their children or giving tips for the kids to work on to improve, as necessary.  Diane watched as her dance studio emptied out for the night as she locked the doors and sat down for the first time in ten hours.  In the three years since she left New York, she had established her own dance studio with over sixty students, all in varying ages from three to eighteen and three assistant teachers to help make her place the success it had become. 

In her office, Diane took down some notes regarding her class's progress and handled a bit of bookkeeping, adding tuition deposits that parents had given her that day.  Sliding her hand over her right knee, she soothed the slight ache that always came after a long day.  A year of physical therapy, thankfully, made dancing possible again and truth be told, she loved working with young performers.  Their enthusiasm being ever more inspirational and encouraging year after year.

Walking out of her office and back into the large practice room, the familiar photo of her Broadway debut hung on the wall.  Diane grabbed her toe shoes, slipped them on and tied them up her leg before stepping into the rosin box, crushing the powder into her shoes to ensure against slippage.  Taking her long brown hair down from her tight bun, she chose a song and began a dance she had done a million times for a million people.  Dancing for twenty-five years, since she began at age three, her form was impeccable - her legs long, strong and lean.  She pulled back in her memory recalling when she absolutely hated ballet.  It was a dance of discipline, form, structure and poise.  Tap and jazz were always her favorites.  Not that they didn't have the same rules, but as a child jazz equated to quick movements, fun music and tap - well, the shoes alone made the best sounds!  Diane had to grow into her love of ballet as she learned the grace, elegance and sensuality the discipline offered.  Then when she first saw someone dance en pointe, she was in completely.

After the music ended, she looked into the wall of mirrors and took a deep bow while imagining a theater of people clapping and cheering for the prima ballerina.  Diane sighed happily, took off her shoes and packed them away in her bag before slipping on nylon track pants and her sneakers ready to head home.

The drive from her studio to her apartment in Dumfries was only fifteen minutes, but half way home she was alerted on her phone of an Amber Alert from Montclair, Virginia. 

A girl, age ten, had been abducted.  The report of a red Subaru hatchback had been given with the alert.  Shaking her head, she said a silent prayer for the girl to be found quickly and alive.  It had been the second Amber Alert from the surrounding area in the past two weeks, the first a twelve year old girl.

Pulling into her parking spot, Diane grabbed her dance bag from the backseat, her purse from the passenger seat and opened the door.  The air was unseasonably brisk as she quickly made her way toward her two-story townhouse.