Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“Go ahead. Show me what you’ve got.”
Juniper swallowed, then moved her feet into first position and rolled up onto her toes. “See?” Her ankles wobbled, and she stepped forward to catch her balance. “I’m fine.”
Anne groaned behind me, voicing my exact feelings.
“No teacher worth her salt would ever have allowed you en pointe.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “It’s Quinn’s fault. Not yours.”
“That’s mean!” Her legs started to tremble.
“That’s the truth, and that’s what ballet is, Juniper. A few gorgeous moments built on a foundation of a lot of stinging truths, not just between you and your teachers, but you and your own body. I’m not going to baby you, nor am I going to fill your head with false praises that will ultimately get you hurt.”
She plopped back down to her flat feet with a thud. “Just because you got hurt doesn’t mean I will.”
Ouch. “And here I thought you respected my opinion because I’m one of the best dancers in the world. Or have you found someone with a higher level of expertise from which to get your advice?”
Her mouth snapped shut.
“Arguing with me will not change the fact that you don’t have the strength, the control, or the alignment to be en point. Not to mention you’re wearing the wrong shoes.”
“They’re Blochs, like you wear.” Juniper folded her arms and pursed her mouth.
Okay, that was kind of sweet, but I refused to give into the warmth spreading in my chest. “And here’s your first lesson: just because another dancer likes something doesn’t mean it’s right for you. You’re wearing a narrow box when you have nontapered toes, and that shoe isn’t the right height for the thickness of your foot, which I’ve seen. It could be the right brand, but it’s definitely the wrong model for you. You need to be fitted, Juniper.”
Her eyes lit up. “Will you take me to be fitted?”
“Sure, when I think you’re ready. Take them off.” I moved to the barre and did a few quick stretches since it had been a few hours since my morning workout.
Juniper walked over, and I outright sighed at the condition of her feet.
“Take the position by the first mirror panel,” I instructed when she stood in front of the second.
“Why?” She backed up a few steps to comply. “I thought beginners were supposed to take the middle and leave the ends to the better dancers.”
“True.” I nodded. “But you were standing in Anne’s place. Now you have your mother’s.”
Her eyes brightened, and her chest swelled as she glanced around the space, her gaze skimming over the mirror and the hardwood floor, finally landing on the barre. She took the lower of the two options.
“Still warm from class?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Good. Let’s start. Pliés.” I worked through the basics with her, mirroring my moves to demonstrate while I silently evaluated her strengths and weaknesses.
By the time we were done, she’d stopped arguing and now stood silently, waiting with expectation in her eyes and a slightly raised chin. “You’re phenomenal, but I already knew that.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “You can be, too, if you’re ready to listen.”
She glanced over at Hudson, who still stood against the wall as if he’d been built into the support structure of the house, then nodded at me.
“You’re a beautiful dancer. I watched the entire class, not just barre. And for only having five months of instruction, you’re remarkable, Juniper.”
She smiled wide. “I’m a Rousseau.”
I nodded. “But talent has to be paired with fundamentals, and you haven’t yet developed the ones that make pointe possible. I’m not just talking about the fact that the bones in your feet haven’t developed enough. Please trust me when I say if you continue to do so, you will sprain or break your ankle.”
She sighed, but didn’t argue, which I was going to take as progress.
“You need to work on your foot articulation, need to be able to work each part of your foot, move each toe.” I pointed my right foot, then glided it over the floor in an arc as I swept it in front of me. “There’s a difference between that”—I moved back to first position, then pointed again and jutted my foot forward—“and that. We do the basics over and over for this reason.”
“What else?” Her chin rose another half inch.
“Strength and control. You roll up into relevé, which means you need to strengthen your muscles so you rise in one burst of motion, and then you need to slowly roll your foot down with control, all of which takes time and practice to develop. Your alignment needs work too. Any flaws you have while flat will only be exaggerated en pointe, which leads to imbalance.”
“So everything.” Her hand fell away from the barre. “I suck at everything.”
“No.” I moved closer to her. “I’ve already told you that you’re remarkable. You’ve only been doing this for five months. Give yourself grace, but check your ego. I just told you why you aren’t ready for pointe, not that you suck. You don’t. Ballet is a lifetime of development, of never settling for the skills you have now, knowing that you might be phenomenal, but still striving for that unattainable feeling of perfection.”