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

“Here,” I take the lead, reaching over to pluck Katy’s from her hand and rip it open, scooping the jelly inside onto my fingers. Katy stiffens as I start smearing it over her face, then giggles. If I can pretend everything is ok for long enough, maybe I can get the other girls to relax and enjoy themselves. I’ve had plenty of experience at pretending I’m fine even when I’m not. Lisa laughs and pulls Hannah over to a mirror so they can goop up their own faces.

“Hold still or I’ll stick it up your nose,” I warn Katy when she doesn’t stop giggling. Her eyes flick to the side and a tiny snort escapes her. “Ew, Katy! Don’t you dare blow snot on me or I really will stick it up your nose.” I glance over at my shoulder and see Ms. Parker smearing a neon orange mask on her face. She grins at us and glances over at Lisa and Hannah putting on their masks, laughing at each other.

“Where’s Mr. Mike?” I ask, looking around the room for Ms. Parker’s husband. He was her physical therapist after her accident—I think it’s so romantic how they fell in love while he helped her recover. Hannah and I even got to go to their wedding when we were seven, Ms. Parker looked like an angel in her wedding dress.

“Oh, he stayed home. He’s having a boy’s weekend with his nephews. Come on girls, I found the perfect show to watch.” I finish putting Katy’s mask on and go to wash my hands in the bathroom before putting on my own. Maybe I won’t have to pretend to have fun all night, if we can get Hannah out of her funk, then the rest of us might actually be able to enjoy the chance to hang out with our teacher.

We all pile on Ms. Parker’s bed, careful not to get goop on her sheets, and watch a silly Canadian tv show about a competitive dance studio, laughing at the ridiculous drama, listening to Ms. Parker’s stories about being in CBC and her time training at their school.

We’re four episodes in and fully invested in the drama between Michelle and Emily, bursting into fits of giggles whenever Emily’s Canadian accent slips out, when Ms. Parker speaks up. “So, how are you feeling? Are you ready to tackle tomorrow?” Ms. Parker’s voice is casual. Too casual. Hannah’s face falls, her shoulders slumping, fingers toying with the gummy bears in her hand.

“I don’t know.” She stops to blow out a hard breath. She‘s silent for a bit, but I can see the wheels turning in her head. I bite my tongue, now is not the time to crack a joke, even if the tension in the room makes me want to. “It was hard to think about anything in the class. I was so confused and so determined to do what he wanted but I couldn’t. My body just…wouldn’t do it. And I couldn’t think straight while I was dancing. It’s just a blur.” She sighs and leans against a pillow, closing her eyes. Honestly, I can’t help feeling like she’s overreacting. It’s just one fucking class, not her whole life, but what do I know.

“It felt like my mind was screaming at me to do what he wanted, but I physically couldn’t get my body to do it. It was like my brain and my body were in two different places. Like, my brain was listening and taking it in, but my body was somewhere else.” Hannah shrugs again. I hadn’t realized how upset she had been while she was dancing. That nagging feeling of guilt resurfaces, making me feel bad for missing out on the same traumatizing experience as the other girls. “I don’t know how else to describe it. But that is the worst I have ever danced, I wish I had skipped it like Olivia. What if this ruins the rest of the weekend?”

“Ok, this goes for all of you, even you Olivia,” I know she’s digging at me for skipping the class, but I’m definitely not sorry now. “That man was not a teacher. He wasn’t trying to teach you anything, he wasn’t trying to share his knowledge. He was belittling you in order to make himself feel important.” She looks at each of us in turn. “There’s an old school of teaching ballet that believes the only way to teach is through bullying, belittling and guilting students into perfection. To weed out the weak, to toughen you up. Anything less than perfection is failure. This is how they were taught and the only thing they know. They are so impressed with themselves they don’t believe there is a better way.”

“But—” Hannah starts to say.

“Nope, let me finish. They get results, but at what expense? How many dancers quit because of the emotional and psychological abuse they’ve been put through? Dancers who could have been amazing, if their training hadn’t broken their bodies and minds. But it’s not the only way to teach.” Ms. Parker shakes her head, looking sad. There must be more to that story. “Don’t you think you work just as hard for me every day as you did for Jean-Paul Philippe? You work hard because I’ve taught you that the satisfaction of working hard is the reward, that the pursuit of excellence is the goal and whether you achieve it or not isn’t the point.”

Ms. Parker turns a fierce eye on us. I hold still, despite wanting to cheer for my beautiful, bad-ass teacher. “At the end of the day, I don’t put my self-worth, my opinion of myself as a teacher or a person, in your hands. Whether or not any of you go on to be professional dancers isn’t going to hurt my feelings. I only care that you leave me ready to go be amazing humans, no matter what you choose to do with your lives.”

The tv plays in the