Free One Perfect Pirouette by Sherryl Clark Page B

Nguyen,’ I said, ‘but I need to practise every day. It’s really important.’
    â€˜Oh.’ She shrugged. ‘That’s all I can manage. Perhaps other teachers –’
    The principal shook his head. ‘I couldn’t ask, really. And what if other girls wanted to do the same? Our teachers need their lunch break just like everyone else.’
    â€˜Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I’ll – whatever.’ I was back to square one and tempted to leave a window open and sneak back after school again. But if Mum found out, I’d be in mega-trouble. Wasn’t worth it.
    I trudged outside and sat down, watching the others play some kind of ball game on the oval that looked like tag, but with weird rules. I’d played tag all the time at my old school – me and Josie were the top team. I swallowed hard, pushing the thought away.
    â€˜Want to play?’ Lucy asked and I jumped.
    â€˜Uh – sure. You’ll have to tell me how it works, though.’
    She quickly explained and I realised it was what we used to call poison ball at my old school. The ball hit me on the leg and someone yelled, ‘You’re it, Snail!’
    I grabbed the ball and walked with it.
    â€˜Gotta bounce – can’t do it like that,’ yelled Lucy.
    I bounced and sidestepped, twirled around and caught a boy behind me, hitting him on the arm. ‘You’re it.’ Before I knew it, I was into the game and having fun, not thinking about the hall or Tam or anything, just running and dodging, laughing and shouting like all the others. It felt great – almost like I belonged.
    When I got home after school, Mum was waiting for me. ‘No overtime tonight' she said.
    â€˜Is that a good thing, or bad?’
    She winced. ‘Good for my leg; bad for our money situation. But I have to go and buy a blue top for this social team. Come on, you can come too and help me pick one out.’
    Mum couldn’t make up her mind, which was totally not like her at all. It only had to be medium blue and plain.
    â€˜Buy this one,’ I said, holding out a top she’d tried on three times. ‘It feels thicker.’
    â€˜Are you sure?’
    â€˜Yes! Let’s go, I’m hungry.’ And I wanted to practise before it got too dark and cold. But Dad was getting dinner and by the time we ate and cleaned up, it took every bit of determination I had to spread out the lino and start. The layers of clothing made me feel like an Eskimo ready to go hunting and after fifteen minutes, I gave up. I was freezing and my legs and arms were so stiff they wouldn’t do what I wanted them to.
    Just then, Mum’s boss arrived to pick her up. ‘You must be Brynna. Hello. I’m Leticia.’
    â€˜Hello.’ I pointed to the back door. ‘Mum’s in there. I’ll show you the way.’ I could see Mum pulling down the leg of her tracksuit pants – she must’ve been rubbing liniment on her shin.
    â€˜Thanks.’ She followed me inside.
    Mum’s face was shiny and pink and she had a little glimmer in her eyes; as she grabbed her handbag, she fumbled and dropped it on the floor. ‘Sorry. I’m a butterfingers tonight. Hope I’m not like this on the court.’ She laughed and sounded like a strangled cat.
    â€˜You’ll be fine,’ Leticia said. ‘It’s only a little training session and we have a good laugh while we’re at it. You’ll be taking it easy, won’t you?’
    â€˜Sure will,’ Mum said. ‘Let’s go, then. See you later, Brynna. Bye, Mike.’
    Dad grinned and waved and settled back onto the couch with Orrin to watch the news. I sat with them and worried about my ballet and how badly my practice was going. I had to find somewhere warmer and bigger, but where?
    â€˜What’s the matter?’ Dad said, when I’d sighed for about the fifth time.
    â€˜Same old, same old,’