Jessica is good at ballet. She learns the steps easily. One of her legs is shorter than the other, and she needs to wear a special ballet shoe, but you could never tell by watching her dance. She moves in a dreamy, graceful way, and Ms. Debbé says she is very artistic.
JoAnn is a natural athlete. Even though she’s not crazy about dancing, she’s really good at it. She powers through all the moves. Ms. Debbé keeps reminding her that ballet is an art, not a pole-vaulting contest.
I hate to admit this, even to myself, but I stink at ballet. I mean, really stink. I never move in the right direction. It takes me forever to learn the steps.
Then, when I think I’ve learned them, I still mess them up. Even on the rare—very rare—occasions when Ms. Debbé says I’ve done something well, I know that my foot was turned out a little more than it should have been, or that my fingers weren’t extended exactly right. The harder I try, the worse I get. Some kids mess up all the time and don’t seem to notice. I know every single time I make a mistake. It’s very frustrating.
And the worst thing is, I love ballet. I watch ballet DVDs all the time. I would love to be a prima ballerina, like Miss Camilla Freeman. It’s not fair that both my sisters are good at dancing when JoAnn doesn’t even care and Jessica would just as soon be writing poems or taking care of all her animals.
