Jade was half skipping, half jogging down the road, clicking her fingers and flicking her wrists. She hardly ever just walked normally these days. That would be too boring.
It was a beautiful Saturday morning, sunny and bright. Inside her head music was pulsing, and the strong beat filled every part of her body. It felt great. But then she realised she was getting very near that house with the brass plate on the door: MADAME ZA-ZAâS SCHOOL OF BALLET and her feet began to slow. Why ever had she thought to come here? It just wasnât her. She tried to imagine herself in the ballet class, wearing a leotard and tights, her hair scraped back in a bun, the red shoes on her feetâ¦
The red shoes! A little surge of excitement whizzed through Jadeâs body. It was the shoes that had set her off on this whole ballet thing. Someone had left them in a parcel on Jadeâs doorstep with a note attached. Jade could remember the words exactly, sheâd read them so often.
Dear Jade,
These shoes are for you. I know you love dancing and I really hope you find out how special they are. Madame Za-Zaâs ballet school is just down the road and she is a brilliant teacher. Go and see her â and take the shoes. You wonât regret it. I promise.
And ever since the afternoon when sheâd received the shoes, sheâd turned over and over in her mind what had happened earlier that day.
She had been in her front garden, showing her two little sisters some street dance moves, when suddenly sheâd realised that a girl was watching her. The girl had told Jade that she was a brilliant dancer, and asked if she did ballet. Thinking about that now made Jade feel embarrassed. Sheâd replied very rudely â saying that everyone who did ballet wore silly little tutus.
Jade knew she shouldnât have said that, but sheâd felt annoyed at the time. Why would she like ballet just because she loved street dancing? Ballet looked so stiff and awkward.
You couldnât just let the music carry you along.
Thatâs why it had been such a surprise to find the shoes. If they were so special why would someone give them to her when she didnât even like ballet?
Anyway, there wasnât time to think about that now. Sheâd decided to give it a chance and her mother had phoned ahead and booked her into a trial lesson. As she stood at the bottom of the steps that led up to the big front door, she breathed in deeply.
Just after ten oâclock. She was a little bit late. Still, she patted her bag with the red shoes in it and told herself for the hundredth time that she was only staying for one lesson to see what was so special about it. Then she leaped up the steps, two at a time, and peered in through the big front window.
The class had already begun. Fourteen girls, wearing identical leotards, stood holding a wooden rail that ran around the walls of the room.
All of them were making exactly the same slow careful movements. Jade rolled her eyes as she came away from the window and pushed open the heavy front door.
Once inside, she caught sight of the changing rooms immediately. The door was ajar. She changed into her red shoes and pulled her hair into a bun. She already had her leotard on under her clothes so at least she wouldnât make herself even later by getting changed. Then, whispering under her breath, âRight, letâs get it over with,â she made her way to the ballet studio and pushed open the door.
Madame Za-Za broke off her counting when Jade walked in, but the girls kept on doing their exercises in time to the music. They seemed to be pointing their feet to the front, then the side, to the back, then the side again. A puzzled look passed over the teacherâs face, but then, as her eyes flickered down to Jadeâs ballet shoes, she broke into a smile of recognition.