Free Rhythm and Blues by Samantha-Ellen Bound Page B

I’m sorry,’ said Paige. She gave me a sweet smile, which made her look even more doll-like than usual. Today she’d pulled two bits of hair out of her tight blonde bun, and they curled around her face. I gave one a playful tug.
    â€˜Doesn’t matter,’ I said. ‘It’s the off-season. It’s only meant to be a bit of fun after the main season.’ (Which, I might add, my team won.)
    Paige said something else but I was concentrating on my ankle, silently willing it to get through this class and not make a fool of me. It didn’t feel 100 per cent great, but if I took it easy I should be okay.
    â€˜Riley?’ asked Paige.
    â€˜Huh?’ I said.
    She gave me a strange look. ‘Are you okay?’
    â€˜Yeah, of course,’ I said.
    â€˜Well, what I was saying,’ she continued, ‘is that after Ellie finishes rehearsal today, she wants to know if we can meet Ash at Groove Train for ice-cream.’
    Ellie is in a musical at the moment called Mary Poppins , and they rehearse over in Silver Shoes’ drama studio. It’s actually just after our exams that they’ll have their opening night.
    â€˜Oh,’ I said. ‘Yeah, sure. Sounds good.’
    That’s if I didn’t put myself in the hospital first.

Chapter Three
    Miss Caroline arrived to begin class. I guess I got lucky because our lyrical warm-ups aren’t very energetic or cardio-based, like our jazz ones.
    Lyrical warm-ups focus on movements that have a natural, flowing feel to them. There are a lot of swings, isolations, contractions and long stretches to get your blood pumping. So I handled those pretty well, keeping asmuch weight as I could off my bad ankle and cheating in some of the stretches.
    Although I did notice Paige looking at me a bit suspiciously when I didn’t go as far into my lunges as I usually do. She knows I give it my all in class every single time, no matter if it’s warm-up, travelling, or choreography work. I hate doing anything when I know, with less laziness, I could have done better. Ellie is a bit the same, I guess, which is why we get on, even though we’re both so different.
    I gave Paige a bright smile like I had no idea why she would think anything was wrong, but even so I hurried over to the corner when it came time for travelling work. I could tell it was on the tip of her tongue to ask if there was something up with my ankle, and I didn’t want anyone, not even Paige, to know I was dancing when perhaps I shouldn’t be.
    It could only last so long, though.
    Travelling steps proved my downfall.
    I figured out pretty quick that there was no pretending when it came to posé turns and saut de basque jumps. Even simple lyrical travelling steps like a waltz, tombé or pas de bourrée were a struggle. Putting any sort of weight on my ankle became a real problem, and eventually it began to hurt so much that when I was landing jumps and leaps, I started to flinch.
    All the time I could feel Paige’s eyes on me, watching very, very carefully. I couldn’t help it, though. I kept pushing. I prided myself on my technical steps and setting an example for the other girls. I felt like a failure if I sat out or started doing the exercises with half my usual energy.
    â€˜Riley,’ Paige said to me, as I lined up to do my turning jetés. ‘Is your foot okay? Because you shouldn’t be …’
    I took off then, before she could finish, in case anyone else could hear. But because I was in such a hurry to get away, I mucked up my timing and messed up my preparation for the turn leap.
    Then it happened.
    I turned, leapt, landed … and it felt like someone had just smashed a branch into my ankle. I stumbled, tried to right myself, half fell and half lowered my body to the floor. Pain flared up my leg from my ankle.
    I had a very, very bad feeling that I’d just made everything a hundred times