by Laurence Yep
As we made our way slowly back toward our stage area—with Luisa on one side of the woman and me on the other—she said, “You know, dear, I used to have season tickets to the Hart Dance Company.”
“Really?” I said, surprised. “Wow, you must have loved ballet.”
“Oh, I still do,” said the woman. She patted her walker and said, “It’s just too difficult to go now.” She sighed and said, “My name is Ruth, by the way.”
Luisa and I introduced ourselves, and then we helped Ruth get settled in a chair in the front row. After we left her there and ducked around the screens, Luisa and I exchanged a smile. It felt good to know we were bringing our show to people like Ruth, who loved the ballet as much as we did.
Backstage, we found Gabriel warming up by flexing his fingers. I’d seen him do it lots of times, but I still found it hard to believe that a human being could bend his hands that way.
“Gabe,” I said, “maybe you should start your act.”
He hesitated. “Don’t you think we should wait for Ms. Hawken or Jackie?” he asked.
“We have someone in the audience waiting for us to get started,” I said. “A very special guest.”
Gabriel nodded. He took a deep breath, transforming himself into the master of ceremonies. Then he bounced from around the screen and began to perform his tricks for Ruth. I felt a wave of relief when I heard her laughing.
When I peeked out from behind the screen, I saw that some of the other nursing-home residents had begun to drift over and sit down, too. Only the man in the green cardigan stayed stubbornly by the TV screen.
As the seats filled, my heart swelled. For once I’d solved a problem by myself, without Jade or even Jackie leading the way. Now I knew how a circus acrobat felt the first time she did her trapeze act without a net! Scared, but proud.
My other castmates seemed happy, too, but not Renata, who hung back alone by the wall.
“Isn’t your family coming?” I whispered to her.
Renata shook her head. “They texted to say that a recruiter was coming to the house to talk to my brother.” The rest of her words came out in a rush. “Ben’s a big football star on his high school team. I guess his football stuff was more important than seeing me dance, as usual. My parents would do anything for him, but they treat me like I’m invisible.”
I didn’t know what to say. Renata had just shared more with me about her family than I’d ever heard before. I couldn’t believe her family had ditched her performance, but part of what she’d said made sense to me.
“Do you…feel like you’re in Ben’s shadow sometimes?” I asked, choosing my words carefully.
She shook her head bitterly. “What would you know about it?” she snapped.
“You try being Jade’s little sister,” I said.
Renata’s face softened. “Well, maybe you do know something after all,” she admitted.
“It’s hard,” I said, “but I’m learning to stop comparing myself to Jade. Instead, I try to be myself, to focus on what I’m good at.” I hesitated and then said, “And I know this much about you, Renata. You’re a first-rate dancer.”
“You don’t mean that,” she said, looking away.
“Jackie invited you to be in her show,” I said, catching her eye again. “That’s all the proof I need.”
Renata pushed away from the wall and gave me the smallest hint of a smile. “Some days, Isabelle, you’re not that much of a pain,” she said.
I grinned at her, and during the silence that followed, I heard Gabriel still talking in front of the screen. “How’s Gabe doing?” I asked Luisa, who was peeking around the screen.
She smiled nervously. “Well, the audience is still paying attention,” she reported. “But, Isabelle, what if Jackie doesn’t come back soon?”
Luisa was looking at me as if I were in charge of this production and had all the answers. In fact, everyone behind the screen was looking at me, waiting for the next cue. I thought for a moment and then said, “It’s going to be noisy again with the television going, but we can’t let it bother us. We have to block it out and do our best.”
Some of my castmates nodded.
Just as I was about to tell Gabriel it was time to start, I heard the ding of elevator doors opening. I peeked around the screen and felt a rush of relief when I saw Jackie pushing a wheelchair out of the elevator. With her was Ms. Hawken, and in the chair was an elderly woman with the sweetest smile I’d ever seen.
Jackie wheeled the chair next to Ruth and then said, “Will all the cast come out, please?”
When we filed out in our capes, Jackie nodded. “I’m glad you carried on without us,” she said. “That’s a nice show of initiative.”
“Thanks to Isabelle,” Hailey murmured.
Jackie gave me a grateful smile. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t with you during setup,” she said, “but I had to check on my abuelita.”
Her grandmother? Was this the special person Jackie had told me about—the one who had inspired her by taking her to her first ballet? I couldn’t believe I was actually going to meet Jackie’s grandma, let alone perform for her. I tingled with excitement.
Jackie put her hand on the elderly woman’s shoulder and said, “My grandmother had a health scare this morning, but fortunately it was a false alarm, and she’s okay.”
Suddenly I understood. That’s why Jackie was so quiet before the show! She was worrying about her grandmother, not regretting setting up the tour.
Taking her grandmother’s hand, Jackie turned to face the audience. “Abuelita worked extra jobs so I could take ballet lessons,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “She bought me my first pair of pointe shoes, and she has always been my biggest fan. I still call her before performances just so that I can hear her wish me buena suerte—good luck.”
So Jackie’s grandmother had written those words in the pointe shoes Jackie had given me. I was so busy thinking about the shoes that I almost didn’t hear Jackie say, “Isabelle, will you get my cape?”
I slipped behind the screens and got the cape. When I delivered it to Jackie, she spread it out so that her grandmother could see the butterfly on it. “See what they made me?” she asked.
“La mariposa,” her grandmother said, tracing the butterfly design with a trembling finger. “Yes, that’s you.”
“But I want you to wear this today,” Jackie said as she draped it around her grandmother’s shoulders. “Without you, I’d never have gotten to where I am. You gave me wings. So I want to dedicate today to you. Thank you for everything, Abuelita.” She kissed her grandmother’s cheek.
A hush fell over my castmates, maybe because we suddenly realized how important our performance today would be. We were performing for the person who had inspired Jackie Sanchez. We had to do well—for Jackie and for her abuelita.
Jackie’s grandmother raised a frail hand to her mouth and called out to us in Spanish, “A las estrellas.” Then she translated. “To the stars.” Our school motto!
“Ms. Hawken,” Jackie called, “will you start the intro?”
As the music began, I did my best to shut out the TV and concentrate on our performance. We all seemed to be trying our very best.
It wasn’t until halfway through the show that I realized I couldn’t even hear the TV anymore. When I peeked around the screens, I saw that the man in the green cardigan had turned off the television and was watching our show—and smiling!
Jackie had been right yesterday. It didn’t take a fancy stage or lights to make people happy. It took performers like us—people who were willing to take risks and overcome a few obstacles to perform for new audiences and to try to make them feel good. With our talents and our joy, we could transform a lobby or living room or lawn into a magical place of music, song, dance, and laughter.
And because that power was inside us, we could work that magic anywhere.
When it was time for me to dance, I was so nervous that I felt as if there were ants crawling up and dow
n my spine. To calm down, I pictured Jade’s face in the audience. Then I crept beneath the blue cloths that my castmates were waving, and energy surged through me. As the fabric rose and fell above me, I felt like a fairy looking up at an invisible moon that called, Dance with me!
It was a voice I couldn’t resist. Heart beating, I leaped out of the waves like a dolphin. Yes! This time it was a clean jump between the two sections of cloth, and I stood beside Luisa.
What was this wonderful sound that filled my ears? And who was this colorful creature beside me, having such fun moving her arms and legs in those amazing ways? I had to try it, too, and when I did, it felt so good that I couldn’t stop smiling.
When it was time for my solo, I remembered the afternoon when I was dancing alone with Jackie. Happiness filled me again until I felt as weightless as a butterfly. With each step of my routine, I felt lighter and happier.
When the music finished, Ruth led the applause. Luisa and I ran behind the screens to get ready for the finale. Gabriel was holding out our capes, and as we draped them around our shoulders, I felt someone’s hands helping to fasten the Velcro around my neck. I turned and saw Renata there, smiling at me.
She looked happy, even though she’d just performed on a tiny stage with a TV blaring in the background, even though the audience had been small—and her family wasn’t in it.
So I gave Renata a big smile back and a quick hug before we all rounded the screens for our finale.
When we spread our capes, I felt like a butterfly spreading her wings. And as tired as I must have been, I knew I could have gone on dancing for hours.
I was a little sad when we met at school before our final show. Jackie must have been thinking the same thing, because as the others began to load the bus, she pulled me aside. “I really felt your joy yesterday, Isabelle,” she said. “Everyone did. And with Ms. Hawken and me gone, you stepped right in and kept everyone focused and moving forward.”
“I hope that was okay,” I said.
“It’s more than okay,” Jackie said with a smile. “You’ve got so many skills. Not only are you a dancer, but you’re a designer, too. And yesterday, you showed that you’re also a leader. That means that someday you could be a wonderful teacher, or choreographer, or even director. So keep growing and developing your talents, okay?”
I nodded solemnly. Turning to walk back toward the others, I felt as if I were walking a foot above the sidewalk. Jackie made me feel like I could do anything. How’d she do that? I wondered if I could learn how to make others feel that way someday, too.
Dad’s hospital was older than Thompson or the nursing home. As our bus pulled up in front of the brick building, I hoped Renata wouldn’t make fun of it. But when I glanced at her, she was gazing out the window with a smile on her face. Was she anticipating our show? She had actually been acting pretty decent since our heart-to-heart talk yesterday.
Dad began waving both arms over his head as soon as he saw us. With him was Gabriel’s sister, Zama, who was wearing the light blue smock of volunteer. My mom and Luisa’s dad, Uncle Davi, had both taken the day off from work, so they were standing beside Dad, too. And so was Jade. Today, if I got tired or nervous during the show, I wouldn’t have to just imagine her sitting in the front row. I could look out at the audience, and she’d be right there.
“Welcome, welcome,” Dad started to shout, until Mom pointed toward the sign at the entrance: “HOSPITAL ZONE. QUIET PLEASE.”
With Dad and Zama as guides, the show setup was a breeze. We rode the freight elevator up with our gear to the children’s ward on the third floor. “At first, we were going to have you perform right here in the ward,” Dad explained to Jackie. “But there’s been such a demand, we had to move the show out into the sitting area.”
He led the way to a large waiting area that was normally filled with couches, tables, and toys for children to play with. But today all of that had been replaced by folding chairs.
Jackie and Ms. Hawken quickly worked out where our stage would be, and the rest of us pitched in to set things up. We were finally getting good at creating our traveling theater. Too bad the tour was almost over.
We had just finished warming up when a woman in a purple coat took a seat in the front row. Next to her, in a wheelchair, was a little girl of about five with black hair, large eyes, and a smile that could have lit up all of Washington. She was taking in everything excitedly, just as Ruth had yesterday. That’s when I noticed the heavy brace on her leg.
I suddenly felt lucky, and a little guilty. Not only can you walk, but you can dance, too, I told myself. Don’t ever take that for granted. And I sprang forward into a practice leap.
When the little girl started to clap, I felt almost embarrassed. “Thanks,” I said, waving at her.
The woman introduced herself. “I’m Didi Tyler, and this is my daughter, Trisha.” She looked down at her daughter. “She’s here to have an operation that will help her walk.”
I stepped toward them. “Well, you’ve come to a great place for that,” I said, giving Trisha a reassuring smile.
The little girl said something to me in a shy, quiet voice.
“Could you repeat that?” I asked, bending over so that she could whisper in my ear.
Trisha leaned forward and said, “I want to be a dancer—like you.”
I felt a lump form in my throat. I knew from other patients I’d met before that Trisha wasn’t going to have it easy. Even after the operation, she might need months of therapy just to learn to walk, let alone dance.
But I wanted to encourage this little girl just as Jackie had encouraged me. So I smiled my warmest smile and nodded at Trisha. “Maybe someday I’ll be watching you onstage,” I said to her.
Trisha’s face lit up as she sat back in her chair. I could see how much determination was packed into her little body. I had a feeling she would dance one day.
But today, I vowed silently, I’ll dance for you. I’ll be your legs.
I left Trisha there in the front row and ducked behind the screens, ready to put on the show of my life.
Mr. Kosloff, the director of The Nutcracker, had warned me that I had to ignore distractions while I danced, and Jackie had once told me I had to forget my mistakes. Now, after a week of performing on the road, I knew I could handle almost anything that came up. My castmates seemed to feel the same way. When the music echoed off the low ceiling today, we just smiled and carried on.
As we began to twirl and our capes billowed in the opening number, I saw Trisha clapping with delight. I caught sight of my family, too, and smiled at them. Since they had helped me create the capes, Trisha’s applause was for them, too.
Jackie had said that she wouldn’t be where she was today without her grandmother. And I knew that I wouldn’t be dancing today either without Mom and Dad—and especially not without my big sister, Jade—cheering me along every step of the way. No matter where we were, Jade would always be with me, just as Jackie’s grandmother would always be with her.
Now, here was Trisha. Was she watching me today the way I had watched Jade at her first ballet recital? Could I inspire Trisha the way Jade had inspired me? I was sure going to try.
I wondered if there was something special for Trisha in the fun box. When it was time to carry the box onstage, I felt someone right on my heels. I turned and was surprised to see Renata, reaching for the other handle of the box. She grinned at me as we carried it around the screen.
After we’d set the box down, Renata grabbed something out of it and made a beeline toward a well-dressed couple and a tall blond boy. Was this her family? As she plopped a goofy hat on the boy’s head, his smile looked just like hers.
I dug in the box for something special for Trisha and found a headband with little gold stars on long, bouncy wires. Perfect! I helped her put it on, and she wagged her head back and forth so that the stars danced around her.
The party feeling carried over into the performances, too. When it was my turn to com
e out as a sea fairy, I’d never felt lighter or happier—my body warmed by that ray of sunlight Jackie had told me about.
As I leaped out of the cloth waves, I glanced at Trisha from the corner of my eye. She was leaning forward in her wheelchair, looking as if she was having the time of her life.
Well, so was I. I flashed her a big smile.
When I began to copy Luisa’s moves in the opening of our act, I told myself, More energy for Trisha. Later, as I rose into the air in my first jeté, I said to myself, Stronger, higher for Trisha!
The expression on the girl’s face was enough to make me leap even higher the next time—higher than the tallest ocean wave, so high that I could wrap my arms around the moon and bring it back for her.
It’s funny, but as I danced, my heart grew lighter and yet fuller all at the same time. When our routine ended and it was time to put on our capes, I still felt strong and energetic.
Luisa and I were the last to file onstage, clapping and swaying to the music in our emerald green capes. We wound up at the end of the line, right next to Gabriel. Suddenly he stepped backward and beckoned to me. “You’ve got a fan,” he said, smiling.
And then other castmates were backing up and pulling me toward the center. It was either move forward or fall on my face.
Renata was right in my path, but she smiled, too, and stepped aside to make room for me. And then I was standing right in front of Trisha. She was bouncing up and down in her wheelchair as she applauded. The look on her face was better than a stage full of bouquets.
Yes, I thought to myself, I want everyone to feel like this: Trisha, Ruth, Jackie’s grandmother, my parents, and Jade—like we could dance across oceans, like we could hug the moon.
Laurence Yep is the author of more than 60 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.
