Dancing Dreams

• Tia Kinnersly, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2019

I wake up. For a split second, I feel entirely happy, then I remember the traumatizing event that had happened the previous day.

My dad had just dropped me off at my ballet school, the Royal Academy of Dance, and raced to drop my younger brother to footy. With a sigh, I turned, left in the dust of my dads speeding car, and walked in the tall, grand doors of the Academy. I sat in front of a long mirror in the senior dressing room and began pulling my hair into a tight bun. Usually, I would see girls being dropped off by their Mums, getting their hair done, being wished the best of luck for the biggest audition of their lives. Not me. My Mum passed away when she was eight and a half months pregnant with my brother, Henry. He nearly died too, but the doctors were just able to save him. They didn’t have as much luck with Mum.

My heart was racing. My head was spinning. My legs were quivering with nerves. This audition was going to determine my career as a professional dancer. First I had to perform a solo I choreographed, then I would have 10 minutes to learn and perform a dance created by the examiners. I was so nervous! I just wanted to make Dad proud, actually, make Mum proud. If I messed this up, my career as a dancer was lame. I took a deep breath, gathered my things, and walked into the studio, completely fearless...

I had nearly done it. I was so close to completing my final dance. I began a complex set of fouettes 1.. 2.. 3.. 4.. 5.. 6 - CRASH! I collapsed in a heap on the floor. Tears welled in my eyes as I clutched my leg, extreme pain taking over my entire body. Surely I would be asked to leave and never come back. I was over. So was my dream. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the examiners whispering to each other, watching me sympathetically. As the examiner on the end of the table made to stand up, I knew I couldn’t face them. I got up off the floor and hobbled out of the room as fast as my good leg would take me.

From that moment it was all a blur. One second I was crying my eyes out in my Dad’s car and the next I was in the waiting room at the hospital. Then I was getting X-rays and crying about test results that were lying limply in my hand. My leg was broken. I would never dance again. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks. I turned away from my Dad, hoping he didn’t see me crying. He just doesn’t understand. Then the strangest thing happened. Standing there, right beside me, was the beautiful silhouette of my mother. Suddenly I knew all would be fine. I knew I couldn’t give up. Not just yet anyway.