Chapter Text
Monika taped up the last of her family pictures on the wall and stepped back with a smile. In the closet, clean white leotards hung in a neat row alongside her everyday clothes. From the flattened carboard boxes stashed under the bed to the freshly sharpened pencils sitting in a cup on her desk, everything was in its proper place. She was finally prepared for her first day at the academy.
“How’s it going?” she asked, leaning across to her roommate’s side. The girl, who had introduced herself as Anya, lay on her bed surrounded by half-empty boxes, which she was ignoring in favor of reading a book. She shrugged idly.
“I’ll unpack later, I guess. There’s no real rush.”
“Oh, okay. Well, do you want to go explore the school before classes start?”
“Nah, you go ahead.” She turned the page.
Monika shifted from one foot to the other, wishing Anya would show more enthusiasm. After all, to be accepted into this academy was to make a commitment to pursuing ballet intensely. Could someone with such an apathetic personality really have the dedication required to perfect this art form? Finally, she dismissed the issue and decided to explore the school by herself.
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“Four to the front, four to the side, four to the back, and four to the side again. Two counts out, two counts in. And I want to see you passing through demi-pointe on the way!” The teacher’s eyes scanned the room. Monika, standing attentively in fifth with her arms in preparatory position, nodded, as did several other students.
The music started and Monika raised her arms to the barre, trying to maintain her posture as she executed the first tendu. She carefully articulated her foot to reach a pointed position. Heel leads forward… toes lead back, she thought, closing back to fifth. Her teacher instructed another student to straighten her supporting leg, and Monika instantly checked to make sure that her own leg was straight.
As she continued to tendu à la seconde, her teacher walked around the room, giving verbal and physical corrections. She paused to watch Monika, who nervously pressed her shoulders down and pointed her foot as hard as possible. “Heel forward,” said the teacher. Monika cursed herself for sickling as she corrected her alignment. The teacher nodded and moved on.
During ronds de jambe she felt eyes on her once again. She tried hard to present her best technique, but her left had always been her bad side, so she wasn’t surprised to receive another correction.
“Don’t twist your hips.” Monika nodded and completed the movement again. “No, you’re still doing it. Here.” The teacher gently placed her hands on Monika’s hips and held them square. Monika executed another rond de jambe and her teacher finally nodded in approval. “There. Do you feel the difference?” Monika said she did and thanked her quietly, face burning with embarrassment. She took a deep breath and shakily maintained her composure, focusing on applying the correction throughout the rest of the combination.
In the center, Monika completed a slow plié in second before quickly closing her arms to first as she rose to retiré, balancing on flat. She willed herself not to wobble or to let her knee come forward. Beside her, a girl took tiny hops on her supporting leg, nearly toppling forward before finally finding her balance.
“You three,” said the teacher as the music ended, singling out Monika and two others, “do it again. Everyone else, stand by the wall and watch. Don’t let me see you leaning on the barres.” Monika prepared for the exercise and tried to block out her classmates’ eyes on her as the music restarted.
She counted in her head, overlapping with the teacher’s corrections.
One, two, three…
“Deeper plié.”
Five, six…
“Shoulders down, girls.”
One, two, three…
“Listen to the music. Don’t rush.”
Five, six, seven, eight…
“Arms lower.”
One, two, three, four…
“Knees over toes.”
Five, six, seven, eight.
“And close to first… good. Thank you, girls. Everyone else, I hope you learned something. Now come back out, let’s try it again. You in the front, do the retiré on demi-pointe this time. The rest of you, keep practicing on flat. Five, six, seven, eight…”
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“Maybe I should quit,” Monika sighed, staring at the ceiling dejectedly. On the other side of the room, Anya sat in a frog position on the floor, stretching as she worked on homework.
“No, you shouldn’t,” Anya replied calmly without looking up. “It’s just one bad class. Tomorrow will go better.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” she muttered.
“What did you say went wrong, anyway? You got a bunch of corrections?” Anya put her pencil down and looked across the room. Monika was lying in bed on her back, gazing dramatically upwards. Her textbooks and homework sat untouched on her desk. “But that’s normal, right?”
“It’s not just that.” Monika struggled to find the words to explain. “I’ve done ballet since I was little; I’m totally used to corrections. It’s just, like… I think she was targeting me.”
“Your teacher?”
“Yeah.” Monika finally sat up, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her chest as she rested her chin on it. “She gave me way more corrections than everybody else, I’m sure of it. And then she made me do this pirouette exercise with everyone watching me, and told me to do it again on demi-pointe… that’s kind of weird, isn’t it?” She looked to Anya for validation.
Frustratingly, her roommate only shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe she wanted people to watch you ‘cause your technique was really good. That’s possible, right?”
Monika shook her head. “I don’t think so. My technique is awful. I keep sickling, and letting my shoulders come up, and my hands aren’t symmetrical because I always forget about my left thumb…” She groaned and buried her face in the pillow. “A shfenao prbsifn jsqi qfibnt.”
“What?”
She removed her face from the pillow. “I should probably just quit.”
Anya switched from the frog position into a middle split. “Like I said, no you shouldn’t. Did you really audition here just to quit after one day?”
“Of course not,” she replied, sounding frustrated.
“Well, there you go, then.” Anya returned her focus to her homework as Monika looked on incredulously.
“Seriously?”
Anya glanced up, seeming genuinely surprised. “Did I not help?”
Monika laughed. “Not even a little bit.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Anya fidgeted with her pencil. “I thought we reached a conclusion there. You are going to stay, right?”
“Yes, but—“ Monika couldn’t decide what to say. Technically, she couldn’t disagree with Anya’s logic, but something was still bothering her. “I didn’t really need help with that part. I mean, I already knew I was going to stay. I guess I just wanted someone to, like… understand my feelings.”
“Oh. Sorry I misunderstood.”
“Don’t be. Feelings are… complicated.”
Anya looked down. “Um… I’m not really good with this stuff. But I do understand your feelings, if that helps.”
“Thanks,” replied Monika. “You can go back to your homework now. Sorry for distracting you.”
“No, it’s…” Anya set her work aside and crossed the room. She sat beside Monika, leaving a small gap between them. “I, um… do you want a hug?”
Monika smiled sadly and let go of the pillow. “Sure.”
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The teacher knew all their names after two weeks of daily classes, so there was no longer any doubt about who corrections were intended for.
“Supporting leg, Anya.”
“Longer neck, Mei.”
“Hailey, don’t drop your weight.”
There was also no more doubt about something Monika had always suspected: for whatever reason, her ballet teacher was targeting her.
“Heel forward, Monika.”
“Weight over second toe, Monika. Don’t sickle.”
“Monika, elbows.”
After the third correction in as many exercises, Monika decided there could only be one explanation.
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“Hey, welcome back,” said Anya as Monika opened the door, still wearing her leotard and tights. “Where’d you go today?”
Monika shut the door and dropped her backpack by her desk. “Extra practice. Studio 5 was empty, so I went in and worked on technique by myself. Um, I hope you weren’t worrying about me.”
“Nope, just curious.” Anya closed her book, marking the page with one finger. “So we already have ballet six days a week, and now you’re doing extra practice in the evenings? You must have a lot of determination.”
“Well, I kind of have to,” Monika replied before collapsing onto her bed. “If I can’t fix my technique by the end of the year, I’ll definitely flunk out of the academy.”
“Is it really that bad?”
“I didn’t think so,” she confessed. “I mean, I’ve trained in Russian ballet since I was four. Maybe it’s stupid, but I sort of expected to have a leg up here.” She sighed. “Apparently, though, my technique has so many flaws I’m surprised they even took me. I need to fix all of that, as fast as I can.”
“That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” said Anya. “Everyone has flaws. Even Alina Somova, or Svetlana Zakharova. They aren’t perfect.”
“But perfection is always the goal,” Monika pointed out. “If you let yourself get away with even small mistakes, then you’ll never reach success.”
“That’s not—“ Anya stopped herself. “Sorry, you didn’t ask for help with this. I understand your feelings, though.” She opened her mouth and closed it, seeming like she wanted to say something more.
“Thanks.” Monika smiled and stood up. “I should probably change out of this leotard. And do my homework.”
“Probably,” Anya giggled.
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“Don’t sickle. Weight over the second toe.”
“Shoulders down, you always forget.”
“Hips square.”
Monika stared critically into the mirror and continued talking to herself. “Left thumb. Knees straight, turn out, chest forward.” She stood in fifth position, arms in preparatory, and her technique was as close to perfection as it could possibly be. Finally, she could start the tendu exercise.
She had taken to using the space at least once a day. As it turned out, Studio 5 was mostly for rehearsals, which explained its large size. When the school wasn’t preparing for any productions, it sat empty for most of the day, and Monika was free to hone her technique as she was doing now.
“That one was bad,” she muttered. “Do it again.”
“No. Do it again.”
“Again.”
Monika knew she was being hard on herself, but she also knew it was necessary. If she wanted to move up to level 2 next year, she had to dedicate more time than everyone else to fixing her technique, and she didn’t have time to let mistakes slide.
She moved to the center and raised her arms to first position. Then she lowered them slightly to a more classical first position. Carefully centering her weight, she drew her right foot from cou-de-pied up to retiré and pressed her knee back as far as possible. Slowly, she rose to demi-pointe. “Stay,” she commanded herself, and balanced for eight counts before lowering back down.
Repeating the exercise on the other side, she tried to rise smoothly to demi-pointe, but her working knee rotated forward, causing her to lose her balance and stumble forward. Monika pressed her knuckles into her forehead, trying not to let her frustration take over. She attempted the exercise a second time, finding her balance and keeping her knee back. “Stay,” she muttered. This time, she held it for sixteen counts.
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Monika usually disappeared after ballet class, so Anya had to catch her on the way out of the room. “Hey, some of us are going to get dinner at the café across from school tonight. Just to relax and stuff. Do you wanna go?”
“I can’t,” said Monika apologetically. “I have to go practice.”
“Again? Are you sure? It’s only for one day, and you’ve got to be the best one in our class by now, so…”
“It’s nice of you to say that, but I really can’t go.” Monika pressed her toes into the ground, stretching her foot as she talked. “They’re probably going to cast the Nutcracker soon, and if I can’t catch up then I’m worried they won’t let me be in it at all.”
“All right,” said Anya doubtfully. “Well, good luck.”
“Thank you.” Monika smiled sweetly. “I hope you and everybody have fun.”
“Thanks. Um, you too.” With a worried glance back at Monika, Anya left.
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It was no good. No matter how hard Monika worked to catch up, her teacher seemed to push her harder than she pushed everyone else.
“Shoulders down, Monika.”
She pressed them down and willed herself to stay calm. They were working on jumps in the center, so she knew there couldn’t be much time left in class. She just had to keep it together until she got to Studio 5, where she could express her emotions in private.
“Monika, deeper plié when you land.”
She landed the final jump, sinking into the deepest plié she could manage without veering into grand plié territory, and slowly straightened her legs, letting out a deep breath as she did so. Monika blinked rapidly, feeling dangerously close to tears and trying not to let it show.
At the end of class, Monika curtsied with everyone else before standing around awkwardly while the other students left the room. Finally, she was alone with the teacher, the opportunity she needed to ask an important question.
“Oh, hello, Monika,” greeted her teacher, seeming a bit surprised to see her. “Good work today. Did you need something?”
Monika had meant to phrase her concern politely and gracefully. “Is there anything I can do to get better or should I just give up now and not try to dance ever again?” she cried in a rush, the words blending together.
“I’m sorry?”
“I know my dancing is horrible and I keep trying to fix it but I just can’t, and I’m so tired all the time from how hard I work and I never have any free time, and that’s fine because I just want ballet to be my life but I’m scared I won’t ever get good at it and—“ Monika had to stop as a sob escaped. She lowered her head and raised a hand to cover her mouth. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” she said with difficulty.
“Monika,” her teacher said, bending down to place her hands on Monika’s shoulders. Monika’s chest heaved and she hunched over, feeling ashamed of herself both for her dancing and for crying. Her teacher’s next words came as such a shock that she froze mid-sob. “You have outstanding technique.”
“I—huh?” Confused, Monika looked up, trying to wipe her tears with her palm.
“First of all,” her teacher said, releasing her shoulders, “I think I have tissues over here somewhere—there we go.” She handed the entire box to Monika, who gratefully accepted it. The teacher waited while Monika dried her face and took deep breaths. Once she had regained a bit of composure, her teacher continued.
“You studied ballet before coming to this academy, didn’t you?” Monika nodded. “I thought so. It shows in your dancing. Your feet are remarkably flexible, always pointed the second they leave the floor. You very rarely lose your turnout halfway through an exercise. You have a lovely sense of musicality.” Monika reddened slightly, unaccustomed to such detailed praise. “So what on Earth is it that makes you think you aren’t good enough to be here?”
“Ah—it’s just that, um…” Monika suddenly felt shy. “I felt like you always corrected me more than everyone else… so I thought I must be making more mistakes than they were.”
Her teacher suppressed a laugh, causing Monika to fidget nervously. “I’m not laughing at you,” she reassured her. “But that’s exactly why you shouldn’t feel bad about yourself. The reason I correct you so much is because I’m trying to prepare you to start pointe work next year.”
“You are?” she said, immensely relieved. Then she blinked. “Wait, next year? Pointe work? But we have class with the level 2 girls sometimes, and they don’t do pointe. I thought you had to be in the third or fourth year?”
“You usually do,” her teacher confirmed. “Students in level 2 may start pointe work only with special approval. We only have a handful of girls each year start that early, and I believe you have the potential to be one of them. Do you understand?”
Monika nodded. “Thank you. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
“Not at all,” the teacher replied with a smile.
Monika decided to take a chance and ask a second question, one which had entered her mind after her teacher mentioned pointe work. “What can I do to be ready? For pointe shoes, I mean.”
Her teacher paused, considering the question as she gazed at Monika. “The most important thing? Take care of yourself. Too many girls burn out in the first few years because they never take any time to rest. Hard work is important, but it isn’t healthy to work yourself to the point of exhaustion every single day. You still need time to relax, and go out with your friends, and of course to do your homework. You are a dancer, and an excellent one, but you’re also a little girl.”
Monika nodded and felt as though some of the tension had been released from her body. “Thank you.”
“Of course. Now I’m afraid we have to clear out of this room. There’s a level 4 pointe class happening here in just a few minutes.”
Monika nodded again, and curtsied. As she walked toward the door, her teacher called her name, and Monika turned around.
“Your technique was already excellent when you got here, but it’s improved by leaps and bounds since then. I hope to see you in my beginner pointe class next year.”
Monika grinned, curtsied again, and left the room. Once in the hallway, she squealed and jumped up and down, attracting some curious looks from other students. “Pointe shoes…” she whispered excitedly. “To wear pointe shoes, as soon as next year… oh, please let it come true!”
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“You’ve been happy lately,” Anya observed.
“Did I tell you about maybe getting to start pointe next year?” Monika asked, looking up from her French homework.
“Only about five times,” Anya joked. “Why? Do you want to tell me again?”
Monika giggled. “Sorry. It’s just… you know… pointe shoes…”
Anya nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I get it. Congratulations, for the sixth time.” Monika nodded her thanks. “Oh, by the way, some of us are going to that café again tomorrow, since we don’t have class. I know you’ve been doing a lot of extra practice and stuff, but do you want to maybe come with us?”
“Sure.” Monika beamed. “Sounds like fun.”