Free One Perfect Pirouette by Sherryl Clark

I turned it up as loud as possible, then danced slowly on the concrete, not trying to copy the dancers of the real ballet. I was a swan, gliding and turning. If only I was on a polished floor and not concrete – but I wasn’t going to let that put me off. I danced, almost feeling the feathery tutu dipping and swaying with me.
    â€˜Brynna. Brynna!’
    I opened my eyes.
    Orrin stood in the doorway, looking grumpy. ‘You’re supposed to ask before you take my CD player.’
    â€˜Sorry. You weren’t home. You can have it back now.’
    â€˜Doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘I’ve got footy training.’
    â€˜Again?’
    â€˜Made the team, didn’t I?’ His grin was as wide as a slice of watermelon. ‘Tell Mum and Dad I’ll be home about seven, all right?’
    I gave him the thumbs up and then, as he disappeared down the driveway, I went back to the music, but the feeling was gone. Didn’t matter. I had lunchtime at school tomorrow to look forward to, a whole hall to myself.
    Just as I was taking Orrin’s CD player back to his bedroom, Mum barged in the front door. When I explained what I was doing, she sighed. ‘The room looks so bare.’
    I glanced around at Orrin’s school clothes and shoes and footy jumpers and books, then I realised what she meant. ‘Tam’s gone already?’
    She nodded, her eyes sad.
    â€˜But he didn’t even say goodbye!’ My stomach churned again and I flopped down on Orrin’s bed. ‘He does hate me.’
    â€˜No, he doesn’t.’ Mum sat next to me and patted my knee. ‘He’s an unhappy boy right now, but he’ll come right. He needs to be where he feels at home.’
    â€˜Why doesn’t he feel like that with us?’
    â€˜Tam’s not a city boy, love. He never will be. You can’t force someone to be something they’re not, just so your life’ll go better.’
    â€˜I feel so bad about him getting hurt. Won’t he be lonely up there without us?’
    â€˜Maybe. I know I’ll miss him – and his cranky moods.’ She grinned, then her face darkened again. ‘I can’t say I’m happy about it, not at all. But I’d rather he were back where he belongs, making his own way, than getting into trouble down here.’ She stood up and straightened Tam’s bedcovers. ‘Now, we’d better get dinner ready. I’ve got a physio appointment shortly.’
    I gaped at her. ‘Is it your leg?’
    â€˜It’s not too bad. But your dad’s talked me into having some treatment on it. Someone a mate of his at work recommended.’
    This was a first. For years, Mum had pretended her leg was fine and refused to see anyone about it. She’d always said nothing would help. She pulled me up from the bed. ‘You’re on rice tonight: we’re having a quick stir fry. And where’s Orrin?’
    â€˜He made the team,’ I said, ‘and he’ll be home at seven.’
    â€˜Did he now? I’ll bet he was happy.’
    â€˜Sure was.’
    She hustled up dinner and put it on the table just as Dad walked in. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down to eat with us, his eyes crinkling over the top of his can when I told him about Orrin. And when Mum told him about her physio appointment, he laughed out loud.
    â€˜All right!’ he said. ‘Let’s get the Great Davies Superstar Show on the road.’ Then he stopped smiling. ‘Tam get on the bus all right?’
    â€˜Yes,’ Mum said. ‘And he was beaming from ear to ear as well.’
    â€˜Good,’ was all Dad said.
    We cleaned up in the kitchen, while Mum changed her clothes and went off in the car. Dad and I watched the news together. ‘How’s that lino working out?’ he asked.
    â€˜Okay. But the school says I can use the hall to practise at lunchtime.’
    â€˜Great.’
    When Orrin