Butterfly (Orphans 1)

"You shouldn't be out of bed, Janet." She put her arm around me and began to turn me back toward the stairs. "Mr. Delorice left me orders and--"

"My mother wants me at my dance lesson," I said.

"She does? Oh." Her tone of voice made it clear which Delorice she was more afraid of crossing.

"Janet," Celine called sharply from upstairs.

"I'm coming," I said and hurried up to the studio.

Dimitri was at the barre stretching. As usual he was totally oblivious to everyone and everything around him. I approached, took my position, and began. Finally, he looked at me.

"Today is your big day," he said. "If you're nice to me, I'll make you look good."

He laughed and broke away to do what I had already learned were frappes on three-quarter pointe. He made it look as easy as walking and from the smug look on his face, I knew he was showing off. His arrogant smile was beginning to make me feel sicker than the flu.

Madame Malisorf arrived within minutes and looked pleased that I had already warmed up.

"Let me see your feet," she ordered and inspected my pointe shoes. "Excellent. Well done, Celine," she told my mother, who nodded and smiled. "Pull up," she ordered.

A ballet posture that aligns the body so you stand up straight with hips level and even, shoulders open but relaxed and centered over the hips, your pelvis straight, back straight, head up, weight centered evenly between your feet, was known as pulled up. Madame Malisorf told me to imagine myself suspended by a thread attached to the top of my head. She said I did it well and that I had excellent posture.

"The most important thing to remember for pointe work is proper coordination of your whole body, each part adapting correctly and without strain to any new position without losing your placement, Janet," Madame Malisorf began, her nasal voice sounding haughtier than usual.

Dimitri, at her side, demonstrated. He looked like a giant puppet to me.

"We have worked hard at developing your strength. I want your knees absolutely straight like Dimitri's. I am satisfied that your ankle joint is sufficiently flexible to form with the forefoot at a right- angle when on the demi-pointe. Do not curl or clutch your toes. Dimitri," she said and again he demonstrated.

As I began the exercises and moves she ordered, she continually yelled, "Line, posture, line. No, no, no, you're sagging. Why are you acting so weak? Again, again. Dimitri," she said with frustration. "Another demonstration. Look at him, watch him, study him," she commanded. Finally she lost her patience and seized me at the shoulders and turned me toward Dimitri. "Watch him!"

He stepped right in front of me, maybe half a foot away and began.

"See how important posture is?"

"Yes, Madame," I said.

"So? Why today are you forgetting it?"

I looked at 'Celine. She shook her head gently. I would be permitted no excuses. I couldn't even mention my being sick. I began again, trying harder. My body shook so much inside, it felt as if my bones were rattling, but again, I kept it all hidden.

Dimitri demonstrated the rands de jambe en l'air, the petit and grand battements, everything with an air of superiority. The music pounded in my ears. I felt more awkward than ever, and every time I gazed at Madame Malisorf, I saw her disapproval and disappointment.

"Stop, stop, stop," she cried. "Maybe it's too soon," she muttered, shaking her head.

"No," I moaned. My ankles felt like they would snap and my toes would probably be permanently cramped, but I could not stop. My new life depended on it.

Dimitri looked at me and then stepped up beside me.

"Let's try again, Madame," he said, putting his hands on my hips. "I'll help guide her through it."

Reluctantly, she clapped her hands and we began. Dimitri whispered in my ear, explaining how I should move and which way to lean and turn. I felt different, better and safer in his strong hands. He had great strength and was practically holding me up at times,

"Better," Madame Malisorf muttered. "Yes, that's it. Good. Keep the line. Good."

I felt like a limp dishrag when the lesson finally ended. My leotards were soaked through.

"An adequate first attempt," Madame Malisorf declared, stressing the word adequate.

"She'll be much better tomorrow," Celine said, wheeling up to us.