by Laurence Yep
As the dancers before me split into two circling rows, I thought of the flowers caught on spreading ripples of water. I bobbed my head and drifted along. With each step, I raised a leg high so that the mud wouldn’t trap my feet again.
The circles unraveled into two straight lines. This was the section that had given me such trouble in class. But this time my body danced the steps perfectly. My brain felt as if it was just along for the ride.
When it was my turn to leap toward center stage, I heard Jade’s voice in my head: “You just explode into the air when you leap.” And I pictured a wave of water sweeping across the pond, flinging me up toward the sun. Then, for a moment, I felt as if gravity couldn’t hold me anymore and I could float forever. I spread my arms wide and flew until the stage came rushing up toward me.
Renata landed at the same time I did with a soft thump. I could see the sweat on her shoulders and the joyful smile on her face. And then we leaped past each other to take our new places in opposite lines.
As pairs of boys and girls took turns leaping into the air, I waved my arms slowly back and forth over my head, like petals teased by a breeze. On and on we danced, changing the patterns like a living kaleidoscope.
All too soon, the music rose to a climax, but the orchestra could not hide the triangle’s tinkling notes. They sparkled like tiny bubbles. Linking arms, we floated in a long line downstage—all of us now one dancer, one dance, drawing closer, ever closer toward the watching audience.
Then, just like that, it was over.
I stood there tired and panting, but happy.
This was what I wanted to do! I would gladly put up with all the hard work, worry, and trouble just as long as I could feel like this again.
And then the clapping began.
The applause was still thundering as the curtains began to close. Ms. Hawken appeared stage right and motioned for us to take the stairs as the next group came on from stage left to take our place.
I felt so happy and relieved that I had to hug somebody. I turned to the person nearest me and wrapped my arms around her. “Good job,” I said to Madelyn.
“You, too,” she said, patting me on the back.
Once we were in the hallway heading to the studio, I felt chilly. My costume was damp with perspiration, so I was grateful to get into the studio and dry off with a towel from my bag. I changed as quickly as I could because I wanted to see Jade dance. As I picked up my bag, though, I saw Renata moving toward the door, too.
My first impulse was to let her go first so that I wouldn’t have to talk to her. But then I realized that we were going to be together for the next four years at Anna Hart and maybe even longer if we got into Helen Tischler, the performing arts high school.
So I forced myself to catch up with her and smile politely. “Good job back there, Renata,” I said with as much sincerity as I could muster.
She drew her eyebrows together and gave me a suspicious look as if to ask, Why are you being nice to me?
“And thanks for saving a spot for us to dress,” I added. “I appreciate it.”
I think Renata was more comfortable fighting with me than being friendly. But she gave a little grunt. “You didn’t embarrass yourself tonight,” she said. “Congrats.”
“Uh…thanks,” I said.
The rest of our classmates had already left the studio, but I could hear them talking happily outside in the hallway. Ms. Hawken was standing by the doorway with her ring of keys. She winked in approval when she saw me walking with Renata.
When we finally left, Ms. Hawken turned off the lights and locked the door again. Then the three of us headed back toward the auditorium.
We got there just in time for Jade. I crossed my fingers as I heard the music from Carmen begin—even though I knew my sister didn’t really need any luck.
Dressed as gypsies, Jade’s ballet class strutted onstage with arched feet. But only Jade’s feet were curved perfectly. Even though I had seen her practice this routine at home, that had been like seeing the sketch of a costume. Now I was seeing the real thing.
The shawl hung across her lower back. Curious as a kitten, Jade raised one corner so that she could bat the tiny tassels Mom had sewn along the hem. Playing with the shawl, she danced across the stage. I felt a lump form in my throat as she twisted and arched with the easy grace of a cat. Every movement of her arms and legs, every pose, was lovely and exact.
It was like watching Tutu dance on two legs. No, it was like watching a Tutu who weighed next to nothing. Every kick of Jade’s legs and every sweep of her arms made it seem as if she were hovering over the boards.
Jade’s gypsies got the loudest applause of the evening, even louder than the pirates. Renata and I did our part, clapping loudly and excitedly. When the curtains finally closed on my sister, my palms tingled.
“Jade was beautiful,” Renata murmured admiringly.
So we agreed on something after all.
Renata hefted her bag to her shoulder. “One of these days, I’m going to be even better than your sister, you know,” she declared.
I doubted that, but I didn’t say anything. No one was as good as Jade—not Renata and certainly not me. But tonight, I was okay with that. I had danced well—really well—and I was glad that Jade had, too.
Renata started to trudge toward the doors, but after a few steps, she glanced at me over her shoulder and said, “See you Monday.”
I guess that was her way of admitting that I belonged at Anna Hart after all.
I grinned and said, “Yeah, Monday.”
As soon as my family got home, I dropped my bag in the hallway. “Dibs on the shower,” I said, beating Jade to it.
“Go ahead,” Jade said. “I’ve got plenty of time. I’m too excited to be able to sleep anytime soon.”
I knew what she meant. I was tired, but I could feel the adrenaline still rushing through me, too.
Tutu strutted toward us down the hallway, waving the tip of her tail high in the air like a flag. She seemed annoyed when Mom didn’t immediately provide treats or petting.
Instead, Mom reached into her pocket for her phone. “It’s an e-mail from the HDC,” she said, checking the screen. “Oh—cast lists for The Nutcracker!”
“Let’s see!” said Jade, reaching for the phone. Mom gave it to Jade and then stood to the side, her hand covering her mouth. I know she was just as excited—and nervous—about this as we were.
“Hurry up! Read it,” I said, looking over Jade’s shoulder.
Jade was already scrolling through the e-mail. When I didn’t see Jade’s name right away, I thought my sister had been robbed. We kept reading, though.
When I saw Jade’s name in the third cast, I let out a scream that sent Tutu skittering away from us.
“You’re going to be Clara. You’re going to be Clara!” I shouted, grabbing Jade’s arm and hopping up and down.
Poor Jade. I was yanking her around so much that she almost dropped the phone. But somehow she managed to keep scrolling down.
Jade let out a shriek the next moment. “Isabelle, you’re in the cast, too!” she said excitedly.
“Huh, I am?” I said, stunned. Jade held out her phone for me to see. There it was in black and white: Isabelle Palmer. I was going to be one of Mother Ginger’s children. “I am! I am!” I squealed. And then I saw Luisa’s name, too. This was more than I had hoped for. There had been so many talented dancers at the audition, and yet we’d somehow managed to get roles.
Letting go of Jade, I began bouncing around the hallway as our parents grinned. I hadn’t thought I could ever feel this happy.
I stopped only when my sister wrapped her arms around me and held me tight. “It’s always been my dream to be in The Nutcracker with you, Isabelle,” she said. “And now we are!”
“We’re so proud of you,” Dad said, wrapping us up in a bear hug. Mom joined us with a hug from behind.
“See?” she said, reaching out to tousle my hair. “I knew you’d both be in Th
e Nutcracker.”
But then fear replaced happiness as a new thought hit me. I barely made it through a school festival in an auditorium. How am I going to handle a professional production in a real, honest-to-goodness theater?
My stomach dropped. Talk about jumping from the frying pan into the fire.
Laurence Yep is the author of more than 6o books. His numerous awards include two Newbery Honors and the Laura Ingalls Wilder medal for his contribution to children’s literature. Several of his plays have been produced in New York, Washington, D.C., and California.
Though The Nutcracker was a regular holiday treat for Laurence as a boy, it was his wife, Joanne Ryder, who really showed him how captivating and inspiring dance can be with her gift of tickets to the San Francisco Ballet. Their seats were high in the balcony, yet they were able to see the graceful, expressive movements of the dancers far below.
Laurence Yep’s books about Isabelle are his latest ones about ballet and a girl’s yearning to develop her talents and become the dancer she so wishes to be.
Special thanks to Kristy Callaway, executive director of Arts Schools Network; Shannon Gallagher, owner of and instructor at Premier Dance Academy, LLC, Madison, WI; and Angela Corosanite, founder and CEO of String Theory Schools
Letter from American Girl
Dear Readers,
Isabelle attends a special school that celebrates the performing arts. Here are the stories of four real girls who practice the performing arts, too.
Read about Reagan, who attends a full-time ballet academy; Marlo and Joia, who perform circus arts, such as clowning and trapeze; and Emily, who composes her own music. All of these girls have something in common: like Isabelle, they have followed their passions and discovered their own ways to shine.
As you read these stories, think about the ways in which you let your best self shine, too.
Your friends at American Girl
Real Girls, Real Stories
Reagan’s Passion for Dance
I go to a full-time ballet academy. I love to dance! We practice hard in the studio—about four hours a day. We also go to class, do homework, eat, and study, study, study. We always find time for fun, too, like playing basketball and eating ice cream.
Last year was my first year at the ballet academy. For our spring performance, I danced a solo en pointe, which means that I danced on my toes. The solo was a little scary, but I was so happy to have earned such a privilege. I wore a sparkly blue-and-gold tutu and lots of makeup, including bright pink lipstick. The tutu looked light and pretty, but it was very heavy. The dress fitter made sure that it fit me perfectly.
Living at school is a lot different from living at home. My room at school has a sink, a few drawers, a closet, and a bunk bed. I live on the third floor with all of the younger kids. Sometimes I get homesick for my family back in Texas, and I had to learn how to do my own laundry. But I call home a couple of times a day, and I call my grandma once a week. I hope that all my hard work will help me get into a good ballet company when I’m done with school. Maybe I’ll even be a famous ballerina someday.
A Double Act
What’s more fun than going to the circus? Being in the circus! But it’s hard work, too. Read on to learn more about these two sisters, who study and perform the circus arts—together.
Marlo G.’s Balancing Act
Yep, when you’re first learning to walk a tightrope, you fall off—a lot. (It’s a good thing that the wire I walk is low to the ground!) But with really good balance and a lot of practice, it’s possible to learn to walk carefully but confidently across a narrow metal strand—and to make it to the other side safely.
There are lots of different circus arts. My sister, Joia, does clowning and has tried other acts, and I’ve trained in several of them, too. Besides low wire (the name for the low tightrope that I use), I also do triple trapeze. That’s a large trapeze separated into three different parts, one for each performer. Three of us work as a team to perform complex tricks. On triple trap, it’s all about teamwork and trust—you have to be confident that your team won’t let you fall. And once you’ve worked together for a while, you know that they won’t.
Joia G., Clowning Around
At the circus, sometimes more than one act is going on at once. When that happens, I work hard to get the audience’s attention and to wow them with what I can do. Onstage, I have to stay focused and confident—and to smile so hard that my cheeks cramp. But that’s not hard to do when I’m having so much fun.
I’m a clown. If you’re in the audience when I’m performing at the circus, it’s my goal to get you laughing. If you are frowning or looking at me strangely and not laughing at all, here are some things I might try:
Doing a weird dance
Telling you a joke
Talking to you in an odd accent
Sitting next to you and stealing popcorn
Singing—laaaa!
Really, though, clowning is serious business (well, kind of). The other clowns and I take classes and train our bodies and brains to react to situations in funny ways. I know how to fall flat on the ground and make the audience think I really fell, which is pretty funny. I’ve learned to keep myself from laughing when everyone else is laughing (even though I still cross my fingers and hope that I don’t crack up, too!).
I feel proud when I have people in stitches. If everyone’s laughing, I’m happy—it means that I’ve done my job well.
Emily’s Music
I started taking piano lessons right before I turned five, but it feels as if I’ve been playing my whole life. When I sit at a piano, music flows out of me, just like breath.
Learning the music of other composers is important, but I also write my own pieces. I find music everywhere. I’ve written songs about things I see in nature, people I meet, and stuff I read in books. My family likes playing a game in which they shout out something—such as “raindrops sliding down a window!”—and hearing what song I can make to match it.
Playing the piano is easy for me, but I still work hard at it. I usually practice for a few hours a day, and formal lessons take up a few hours a week. When I’m getting ready for a big performance, I practice more often. I’ve gotten to do some fun performances at music festivals, in major concert halls, at the White House, in other countries, and even on TV.
Mostly I don’t feel different from anyone else. I like baking and making crafts and playing outside. But it’s so exciting when I get letters from people I don’t know—sometimes from halfway around the world. People write letters saying that they like my music, or that they’ve learned to play some of my pieces from my published music books or else from videos they have found online. It doesn’t make me feel famous, though—that’s not what matters to me. I just like to know that people feel happy when they hear my music. That makes me feel really good.
Perfecting pirouettes isn’t easy! While Isabelle practices her dance for The Nutcracker, she uses her costume design skills to help out her older sister.
Keep reading for a preview of Isabelle’s second story!
On Saturday, our break was almost over, and the other dancers had already gone back inside the studio. But I wanted to visualize my routine one more time to smooth out a few tricky parts, so I hung back in the hallway.
I was on the second floor of the Hart Dance Company, the HDC, surrounded by rehearsal studios. Beneath my feet, on the street level, was the large theater where my big sister, Jade, and I would dance The Nutcracker in just a few short weeks. My stomach fluttered at the thought.
Through the hallway window, I caught sight of someone in a giant turkey costume standing on the street corner. On top of the turkey’s head was a Santa hat, and the turkey was waving a large sign advertising a pre-Christmas sale.
Thanksgiving was still a couple of weeks off, but the holiday season had already started for my family. Dad’s band was getting gigs for company parties, and Mom was busy selling her fabric art at holiday craft fairs. Normally I
loved the holidays, but this year I was too busy preparing for The Nutcracker to enjoy them.
Stay focused, I told myself, turning away from the window. I began my visualization again, picturing in my mind a big chest full of toys. Each toy was part of my dance routine, and as I picked up the first one, a jack-in-the-box, I moved my arms and legs slightly and imagined popping into the air like a jester coming out of a box.
Then, in my mind, I set aside the jack-in-the-box and pulled a toy top out of the chest.
As I readied my feet, I said to myself, Spin.
I visualized myself spinning like a top, faster and faster.
Suddenly I heard a little girl crying from down the hall. “I’m stuck!” she screeched.
I jogged down the hall and found three kids in mouse costumes standing in front of the restroom. One of them was hopping up and down and waving her paws in the air. “I’m stuck! I’m stuck!” she wailed from inside the big mouse head. Judging by her height, I guessed she was only about five years old.
“We’ll fix it, Addison,” the second mouse promised. “Just hold still.”
“Can I help?” I asked.
“The zipper is jammed,” grunted the third mouse. Her big, clumsy paw was having trouble holding on to the tab of Addison’s zipper.
“Don’t worry,” I said, trying to calm Addison. “I’m an expert at zippers.” At least I’d watched my mother sew enough of them onto clothes.
Addison dropped her paws to her sides, and the third mouse stepped back so that I could inspect the zipper. Just as I had thought, some material had gotten caught in the zipper. I worked the zipper upward until the teeth let go of the fabric. Then I slowly eased the zipper down, revealing the back of Addison’s T-shirt.
