Toe to Toe (On Pointe Book 1) by Penelope Freed (comprehension books txt) 📗

ballet at sixteen, and by her nineteenth birthday, she was promoted to soloist. A year later she was made a principal. She danced every leading role you can imagine, had ballets created on her and was going to be the most famous ballerina of her time. But when she was just twenty four, as she was crossing the road in front of Lincoln Center, she was hit by a motorcycle and was knocked into the curb. The doctors said she would never walk again after the way her pelvis was broken, let alone dance. I once heard her tell my mom her back still hurts her every morning, but you would never know it to see her in class. She doesn’t ever lift her legs high, and she doesn’t ever really jump, but I always forget she isn’t doing those things because the rest of her is so exquisite when she demonstrates an exercise for us.

I keep looking at the door to see if Olivia is coming. Class is supposed to start in five minutes and she still isn’t here. I wonder if she sent me a text? I’m about to cross the room and dig my phone out of my dance bag when a tall, lean man walks in the door. He crosses the room with confidence and a dancer’s graceful walk. I do not want to be the girl who was on her phone instead of paying attention, so I stay put. The quiet murmur of conversation that had been filling the room dies down to an expectant silence as we all wait for the instructor to begin the class. No one wants to be the first person to start talking again.

“Hello everyone,” the man says, pulling off his shoes and jacket, carefully placing the shoes under the chair set in the corner of the studio and precisely hanging his jacket on the back. He has a distinct French accent and moves with absolute confidence. “My name is Jean-Paul Phillipe. I am a former soloist with Vancouver Ballet, founder of the BalletIMAGINE and one of the judges for this weekend. Is everyone ready?” With that, he claps his hands and everyone scrambles to take off all the extra layers of clothes we’re wearing while we watch and listen to him demonstrate the first exercise at the barre.

Chapter 9 Olivia

Yeah, nope. That man is an asshole and I do not want to take his class.

I’ve been hovering outside the doorway listening to him talk for the last few minutes and I don’t feel a need to subject myself to that.

“No, no, no. Not like that. Like that…is a stupid way. Is not efficient, you see? Now, you try this way. This way is the right way.” I’m late to the class and I just know this French dude is going to rip me a new one if I walk in now.

I mean, is it my fault if there was really terrible traffic? Or that my awesome boyfriend made me leave forty-five minutes late because he insisted on buying me Starbucks before I left?

I have two options right now—I can walk into this class, stand there like a meek and mild ballet robot while this asshole tells everyone how awful I am for being late, or I can go find Ms. Parker and watch the pre-competitive competition that’s going on right now. I would add going to the hotel and hanging by the pool as option number three but 1) it’s February and 2) Mrs. O’Brian has my hotel key since I’m staying with her and Hannah. My dad is only coming down on Sunday to watch the groups and the awards.

I don’t know what time the pre-competitive competition starts, but I know that Haley, Anna, and MacKenzie are competing solos tonight. They’re a trio of really cute ten-year olds that dance at Ms. Parker’s, sometimes we hang out in the lobby between classes. MacKenzie and I like to make Insta stories together cause she looks like she could be my little sister. Fake little sisters are much more fun than real ones.

Mind made up, I head over to the auditorium, eyes peeled for Ms. Parker and the stage door. I wander through the door and find her surrounded by three little munchkins in tiny tutus all clamoring for her attention. I check my phone as I walk in the door.

Tyler: Hey babe, how’s the competition?

Well, he tries, right? It’s cute how he doesn’t get it. When he took me to coffee before I drove down here, I tried explaining how the weekend worked to him but I wasn’t sure if he really got it or not. I had to make him promise not to show up tomorrow night with signs or an air horn. The big sweet dummy.

Me: Going okay. The teacher was a real asshole so I’m skipping the class and helping the little kids instead.

“Ms. Parker, will you fix my hair when you’re done with Anna’s?” Haley pulls at her bun, a lock of smooth black hair trailing down her back, bobby pins sticking out in every direction. Her half Korean heritage gave her the most gorgeous thick black hair, but I know from Lisa how hard it is to get it up in a secure bun.

“Is my makeup okay?” MacKenzie asks, trying to push her face into Ms. Parker’s space while she’s busy pinning Anna’s hair into a perfect bun at the nape of her neck.

“I got you Haley!” I say, pulling her in front of me and pulling the pins out of her bun. “Hi Ms. Parker,” I add. “Need some help?”

“Hi Olivia.” Ms. Parker pulls a pin out of her mouth to smile at me. She looks a little flustered, not that I can blame her with these three munchkins twirling around and pestering her with questions. “Help would be great. I sent their parents away so we could get ready in peace. I didn’t think I might need an extra set of