Free No One's Watching by Sandy Green Page A

ballet class in fifteen minutes. Then lunch and another ballet class with Madame Petrova. The girls’ repertory class is right after.”
    â€œI guess we’d better hurry.” I slung my bag over my shoulder. “Who’s teaching?”
    â€œA graduate student from the Chester Park University dance department.” She picked up her dance bag, and we left.
    After we took an uneventful class with a nervous college student, we came back to our room. Bored, I flopped on my bed. “I miss my cell phone.” I sighed.
    â€œNo cell phones allowed. They want you to concentrate only on dance.” Candace pulled a comb through her hair and re-clipped the stray ends. “That’s why you can’t have a cell or even a computer.”
    The administrators were super strict about cell phones. At least I didn’t have to worry about Shelly blabbing to her mom I didn’t have a ballet solo and taking the chance Mrs. Traum would say something to Mom. I pulled my pointe shoes out of my bag and grabbed a small sewing kit from my top dresser drawer. “I guess sewing my ribbons back on my pointe shoe will keep my texting fingers busy.”
    Candace laughed. “I know. I’d love to tell my dance friends back home I’m performing a character dance.” She picked up a mascara wand.
    Here I was wallowing in my own problems and totally ignoring Candace. “How did your character rehearsal go?”
    â€œIt was great. We’re doing an original piece by Ms. Jen. With live music. Her boyfriend has a band.”
    My eyebrows danced. “Live music? Way cool. Are you in costume?”
    â€œWe’ll be in long, swirly skirts.” Candace stroked her eyelashes with the wand.
    I could go for that. Live music. With real musicians. I’d never danced to live music. Except for the pianists in class. According to Mom, character dance was a sub-genre of ballet. An acceptable sub-genre. Necessary to know, for all the big, traditional ballets featured it in some way.
    Candace used the wand to point to her ballet poster above her bed with the tiny dancers. Babies who could barely stand hung on a barre dressed in pastel tutus. “I love Ms. Jen. She’s the kind of dance teacher I want to be when I get my own studio.”
    â€œI didn’t know you wanted to teach.” I bit my tongue as I picked small stitches in the inside of my pointe shoe and reattached the ribbon.
    Candace gazed at the ceiling. “I’m thinking of applying to school here to get my dance degree.”
    My hand paused inside my shoe. “Wow. You’d be a great teacher.” I meant it. She was so nice and wouldn’t be all uneasy like the college student we just suffered through. Or yell like Mr. Jarenko. If my dad were alive, I bet he’d be the best dance teacher in the world.
    I sewed over my first stitches to make them hold the ribbon extra strong and chewed off the thread as Dira and Nicki exploded into the room.
    â€œYou guys coming with us to lunch?” Dira jostled Nicki.
    Candace jerked in surprise and screwed the wand back into the mascara tube. “As soon as I get over my heart attack. I almost poked my eye out.” She glanced at me in the mirror. “You ready?”
    â€œJust about.” I wrapped the ribbons around the collapsed heel and shank of my toe shoe, and stuffed it in my dance bag.
    â€œFirst, news.” Dira folded her arms and leaned against my dresser. “Nicki has a date tonight.”
    â€œWooo. Who’s the lucky guy?” Candace pinched Nicki’s arm.
    Nicki blushed. “Can’t say.”
    â€œDo you know who he is, Dira?” I slipped on my shorts and a T-shirt.
    Dira held her long arms out helplessly. “She won’t tell me.”
    Candace slid to the door and locked it. “You can’t leave until you spill everything.”
    â€œAh!” Nicki laughed as she leapt for the door.
    Dira blocked it.