Chapter Ten

It was another beautiful day, with just a hint of fall in the air. Although weather was still warm and balmy, the breeze was brisk, warning of the colder weather around the corner. I found myself actually amazed that our temperatures still lingered in the eighties. Isn't it usually cooler than this by now? I mused. My thoughts turned back to the studio from which I had just left. I had disassembled my loom, as I do almost every semester, to repair it. Most of the people in the weaving courses don't give a flying rip what condition their equipment is in. I, on the other hand, have been known to be too anal retentive to leave it alone. So, I began to fret I was costing myself precious time and energy that I couldnt afford to lose. I must have been too engrossed in my thoughts of the weather, season, and school work to have noticed the sign on the door.

Actually, I realized later, we must all have been on autopilot. When I walked into the locker room, the entire class was there putting on their attire. I delighted in the thought that this was our last week of modern dance and in the same moment cringed at the notion we'd be learning ballet next week. Next week would come all too soon. I had taken ballet as a child, and the mere thought of revisiting it brought up memories I had hoped to never recall again: memories of knock-down-drag-out cat fights with my sister in the middle of the dance floor.

My mother meant well. I can't say I blamed her one bit for wanting us in the same class. It was, of course, easiest on her. But the poor instructor, Miss Jane, had to play referee almost every week, without fail. If we werent arguing with each other, we were wrestling. I'm almost certain Miss Jane just began the class with "You! you're on that Barre. You! You go over to that one!"

Then there are the other memories that only another person as uncoordinated as I could appreciate. For example, the time when Miss Jane wanted us to cross our arms and hold hands for a particular part of the choreography for the spring recital. I single-handedly pulled my entire line of girls down with me when I tripped. I fell every time we practiced that part. I can't remember if that ever made it into the recital, or if Miss Jane had to re-work the choreography, just for me.

As I changed while ruminating on the past, running through a plethera of thoughts and emotions, the chatter in the locker room became blurred in the background, mere white noise. I noticed something was amiss. Hmm, I wondered, I dont hear the music from the dance class before us. That's unusual. But, I dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it came into my head.

We wandered up the dusty back stairs, noticed the attendance card file box was not in its usual location, took a seat on the floor anyway. It was about ten minutes into the class, about thirty of us had already changed our clothes and sat down, when someone came in and said "There's a sign on the front gym doors. Class is canceled." Confused murmurs flooded the gym. "Cancelled? Are you sure?" "What's going on?" "There's a sign saying she's not here" "A sign? Where?" "On the front gym doors." "Are you kidding me?" "Like they couldnt have put that on the locker room doors or anything." "Yeah, we're not even allowed to go in through the front doors." "Crap." "Hey! Our wish came true!" "Do you think you could wish that again for Wednesday?" "Yeah, sure, I already have!" And before a single person could blink, the gym was completely emptied and we all gleefully went our separate ways, spared, at least for then.