As the girls filed noisily into the dance room, the teacher shouted:
“Get in here you girls, and quick with it!”
There was an answering silence and then a scuffle of feet scraping polished wooden floorboards. We all took their place at the bar and looked up at the teacher expectantly. She wore a dull blue leotard with a very badly done up bun. Her face was a mixture of anger, severity and nastiness. Not a wrinkle of sympathy or softness.
As predicted, she lectured us on the movements we had been supposed to practice (*ahem*) and asked for a demonstration. Of course no one stepped forward so she picked randomly (yeah right), and it, of course, landed on me.
I walked forward, knowing in advance that this would end up really badly and started trying to dance. But of course, I lost my balance and fell. Typical me. I heard snickers from behind but felt too dizzy to even look up. Although I did feel my cheeks grow red hot.
I felt someone pull me up roughly. It was Ms Davill, our mean dance teacher.
“YOU IDIOT GIRL! Can’t you be more careful! You just tore one of your laces and you don’t even worry! You also fall on my feet and don’t say sorry! You need some manners young lady! Have you even looked at yourself?” she scoffed, and she ranted on during who knows how long.
I felt like crying, but I held back my tears knowing that it would only make thing worse.
By the end of the lesson, my legs felt like jelly, and my arms like marshmallow. As I ran out the door, tears gushed down my cheeks, and stayed there until I wiped then off, not wanting anyone to see them.
As I reached the front door with my hand to grasp open the handle, I dropped my dance bag on the floor. Tough luck. But I picked it up anyhow.
I stomped into the living room and found my mum doing the dish-washer.
“I AM NEVER, EVER, EVER GOING TO DANCE AGAIN IN MY WHOLE STUPID LIFE!” I yelled, hoping to catch the house holds’ attention. My mum stared at me, visibly shocked.
“-Honey, what happened?
-What happened? I’ll tell you what happened! That stupid dance teacher (I spat the words out as disgustingly as I could) laughed at me and said I would be a dance failure for the rest of my life! That’s what happened!” But I didn’t wait for an answer. I stormed upstairs to my room and locked the door.