Dance From The Heart

• Laurel Harrison, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2017

Shoulders back, stomach in, leg raised, higher, higher, higher… I collapsed, pain shooting through my thighs. I couldn’t do this! I had to stop. “Chloe, push yourself!” yelled Philip, the choreographer. I grimaced but attempted to swallow the pain. Lifting my head, I tried again. I imagined that I was in Swan Lake and had the lead role. My feet began to move faster, my breath became steadier. I twirled around the room, preparing for the grand jeté. As my stomach tightened, I began to move my legs forward, and pushing my body into the air I suddenly believed that I could fly! But when my toes hit the floor, my knees buckled and I fell to the ground. Again… As I pushed myself up, I saw Philip striding over. He didn’t look happy. “Chloe, get your act together or you will be out of London Ballet School by Friday!”
I woke early the next morning and smoothed my ebony hair back into a neat, tight bun. I then slid a fresh leotard on and threw a loose t-shirt over the top. After stuffing the toe boxes of my pointe shoes with lamb’s wool, I fastened the ribbons multiple times around my ankles. Standing, my entire body weight was propelled onto the tips of my toes. Pain rushed through my feet but I ignored it. Finally, I relieved myself from the pain. Tiptoeing through the corridors to the studio, I pushed open the door with anticipation. I could do this! Ballet is in my blood. I hardly bothered to remove my t-shirt, as no-one would be watching to correct… But I did, simply to earn that weightless feeling that all ballet dancers crave. I watched my shadow as I glided towards the speaker. It was long and slender, the perfect build for a ballerina.
As the music filled the room, an ethereal feeling filled my body. Forgetting to think about what I was doing, I let the music take hold of me. My feet felt like they were not even touching the floor; my body was weightless; I was a feather drifting in the wind. As I continued to dance, I lost track of time. Had it been seconds, minutes, hours? But as I made the last pirouette, I realised that I was not alone. For there at the side of the room stood Philip, wide-eyed and staring. “Chloe… you danced perfectly!” He appeared to be speechless. “How is it that you can dance like this when your mind perceives you as alone, yet you can’t match this standard in class?” he queried. Suddenly his hard exterior returned. “Well, you need to fix this up Chloe, if you want to stay here to dance!”
It has been two months since Philip watched me dance, and the spotlight is shining down on me. I have been cast as the lead role in the school ballet ‘Swan Lake’. Practise has been everything, and finally, I am ready. I was chosen because Philip knew what I could truly do. No-one else believed in me, but I did. I knew that I could do it, and I have made it, without cracking under pressure. When the music begins to play, I focus on making my movements elegant. I smile, and my face seems to change. My costume glitters in the light, and I know how I look. Amazing… Graceful… Like a real ballerina. I take a few steps en pointe, and I barely even feel the pain. Twirling across the room, I prepare for the grand jeté. I push my body forward, and focus on keeping my legs strong. Spotting my position, I land smoothly, without jolting. Smiling even wider, I continue my dance. Even though I have practiced this dance countless times, it still feels new and amazing! I feel proud. I am dancing from the heart.