The room was illuminated by the late afternoon sun, as it was setting. Dust in suspension could be seen in the beams of light. Annie had just arrived from her lectures, and yet she had to get ready again.
She wasn't sure she could get used to her new schedule right away, though she didn't have another choice. She packed all her musts on her dance bag – a bottle of water, ballet flats, a hair brush and some elastics inside a toilet bag. Also, an extra set of clothing for later. Everything else always stayed inside her bag, in case she would forget.
Annie had been a classical dance student since she was a toddler. How many hours would she have spent between the barre and pliés? She could easily lose the count. She almost lived in the dancing school, and her future as a a professional ballerina had been bright. Annie felt like it was part of her, she couldn't let it go so easily.
Nevertheless, she decided to have a backup plan. The dancing life wasn't easy, and though she was brilliant at it, she felt like it wasn't enough. She started studying at the university as well, leaving her with no time left. Dropping off the dance school was the last option, yet she chose it. Instead, she would be dancing at a local dance academy, with a more flexible schedule for her.
Annie couldn't say she was nervous, but beginnings were not her main strength. She tried to calm herself thinking the ambience wouldn't be that different.
The girl sighed deeply, grabbed her bag confidently and left her house. The academy wasn't quite far from home, yet she was taking the bus - it had been a long day at university. Strong wind blew on her face as soon as she stepped outside, freeing some platinum bangs from her tight bun. She tucked them behind her ears while cursing under her breath.
The bus ride felt rather short, as she spent it redoing her bun with expert and fast hands. Annie finished her neat hairstyle with some golden bobby pins while getting off the creaking vehicle.
She opened the main door of the studio and stepped on wooden dark floor. She took a look at the entrance and main corridor, feeling rather insecure in a long time. White, neat walls filled with ballet inspired paintings. Inhaling deeply, Annie spotted a changing room, where she left her belongings and took off her street wear. She quickly put on a ballet wrap. Annie observed her worn-out ballet flats while putting them on.
"Seems like it's time to buy a new pair," she mumbled to herself, while caressing the ragged canvas.
She was never late. Annie took a look at the clock on the wall, happy to see she was on time. Half past five, exactly. Class started at that hour officially, but it seemed like the rest of the students didn't care, as the studio was rather empty.
The blonde walked to the nearest barre, trying not to make eye contact with any other dancer in the room. She started warming up her ankles, it was a sacred step a ballerinapeek could never miss before dancing. She peeked at the rest of the people looking through the mirror in front of her – a group of giggling girls over there, some other on their phones, and some guys leaning on the barre, chatting.
"This is not a bar," Annie grumbled to herself. How many times she had been told off for doing the same. You should never lean on the barre, if you had certain etiquette. Happily, she discovered that nobody had paid much attention to her.
However, when a short and lean woman came in, she spotted her and smiled widely. She was wearing a burgundy cotton overall on top of her maillot, strawberry blond hair in a low bun and some music CD's on her hand.
"Hi! You must be Annie," she chirped, while coming closer to her. "I am the teacher, my name's Petra Ral," the hazel-eyed woman added. She didn't look much older than the blonde, but only by watching her walk and gesture you could tell she had been dancing all her life. "We talked on the phone the other day, I'm really sad you had to drop off the Dance School. Your teacher told me about you, she says you're a brilliant dancer," she continued with proud eyes. "You can feel at home, but don't relax, I'm rather strict," the woman raised a finger, attempting to look tough. She didn't succeed, or so thought Annie.
After a quick conversation about Annie's level and recent injuries, she was left alone again, while Petra turned on the CD player. Classical music started playing.
The room was quite crowded, in comparison when Annie had arrived. She counted about twelve people, all gathered and sitting on the floor, while stretching and warming up. Big mirrors covered every wall, wooden floor worn out from pointe shoes. She looked at herself in the mirror while she grabbed her heels, leaning over her straight legs. The silent atmosphere felt just right after a busy day at college.
Barre work was rather obnoxious, as some girls wouldn't stop talking. Annie wanted to kick one of their faces in an arabesque, but stopped herself. She had so gain some confidence first. Simple tendues, long and tough rond-de-jambe, and ending with developpés à la seconde and derrière. It was just her everyday routine.
When barre exercises led by Chopin pieces had finished, she observed some girls as they started to tie their pointe shoes ribbons around their ankles. Boys also took off some layers of extra clothing. "Repertoire," she sighed. Annie started to put on her silky shiny shoes, and hid the knot of the ribbons behind her Achilles tendon. Some girls looked at her with curiosity, mistrust, or even with superiority. It was nothing new to her – dance world had always been like that. It had been a long time since she didn't practice a pas de deux, she remembered, as her last dance partner had been injured.
Boys and girls started pairing, and as she found herself without a partner, she opted for staying at the back of the class, and copying the girls' choreo.
Petra noticed her actions, and walked over to stop her. "Annie, don't worry, wai-"
The studio door opened with a loud creak, and everybody turned around to see. A lean blond-haired boy appeared, all eyes on him. He had a sleepy face, with bags under his blue eyes. He certainly looked really sick. "Good evening, Mrs Ral," greeted the male with croaky voice. The teacher blinked in awe, as the boy dropped his black canvas shoes on the floor and started putting them on. He coughed and blew his nose at the same time.
"Oh, Armin! You should have stayed home, you've gotten worse," exclaimed a concerned Petra. Pitiful eyes laid on the ill boy. When the teacher approached to him, Armin smiled genuinely.
"Don't worry, Mrs Ral. I've only come to do Repertoire, I'll be okay," he answered with difficulty, while waving at the other students. Petra evaluated the situation with arms akimbo, the nodded.
"Poor dying creature," mumbled Annie, observing the boy with a disinterested glare. She looked away, but then something clicked in her head. Petra told her to wait just a few moments before, because she hoped that boy would come… and so he could partner with her. It meant that snotty brat was going to dance the pas de deux with her. Annie highly doubted he could carry a baby around, let alone an adult woman.
The tiny teacher leaded the boy towards her, and Annie could only think of escape routes. "Armin, this is Annie. I decided she would be taking turns to partner another boy, but since you've finally come," Armin nodded looking at her, removing some bangs from his clear eyes. "This is her first day with us, so be gentle with her," this must be a joke, Annie's expression screamed.
"No worries, I'll be a gentleman," joked the blond. Annie tried her best not to make a disgusted grimace. Petra then left, and went to the front of the class to mark the steps.
That boy was getting on her nerves, and she didn't know him yet. Annie had zero to no patience, but managed to keep a straight face. At least, he was reasonably taller than her, so they could work out when partnering, she wanted to believe.