by Laurence Yep
Addison studied my face for a moment. When she nodded, a few more tears broke free and trickled down her cheeks.
“Are you scared?” I asked gently. When Addison hesitated, I motioned to the other dancers. “Well, you know what? So are all the rest of us.”
“Really?” Addison asked doubtfully.
“Dancer’s honor,” I swore. “Anyway, you couldn’t mess up worse than I did in rehearsal a couple of weeks ago. I danced right into another girl and knocked her down. And do you know what she called me?”
Addison gave a little giggle. “What?” she asked.
I cupped my hand, as if I were whispering a great secret. “A bowling ball,” I whispered in Addison’s ear.
Addison laughed out loud.
“Shh!” said Bettina, holding a finger up to her lips. But she smiled at me.
I put my arm around Addison, and the padding in her mouse costume made a squishy noise. “It’s okay to be scared,” I said, remembering the advice that Jackie Sanchez had given me. “And it’s okay to make a mistake. The important thing is to have fun, like you were doing the day we met. You danced the part of a blind mouse so well that Mr. Kosloff used you as an example for the other mice.”
Addison smiled at the memory. “That was fun,” she agreed, her big eyes shining.
I motioned to Jade and the other partygoers whirling around the stage. “Those dancers are having a lot of fun out there right now. Don’t you want to go out and have fun with them?” I asked.
Addison bit her lip as she thought about it. Finally, she wiped her face with a big gray paw and nodded. She squatted down to pick up her mouse head.
I helped her put it on. “Let’s both go out there today and have the most fun ever,” I said to her. “Deal?” I reached out my hand and gave her paw a firm shake.
As Addison joined the other mice again, Bettina breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Isabelle,” she said in a low voice. “You were great with her.”
When I stood up, I saw Jackie Sanchez watching us, too, from the wings. She grinned as she gave me a thumbs-up.
That meant more to me than a standing ovation. I was still feeling giddy as the partygoers came offstage.
Jade was glistening with sweat, her shoulders rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. The audience would probably never realize how hard she worked to make her dancing appear so effortless. She looked as if she had just run a marathon in her party dress. I handed her a towel.
“Thank you,” she said as she wiped her face and neck. Then she gave me a quick hug. “This costume feels magical,” she said, motioning toward the red dress. “Isabelle, I’ll never second-guess your designs again.”
I grinned and gave her another hug. I hadn’t even danced yet, and I was already flying high—first because of a thumbs-up from Jackie Sanchez, and now because my sister’s performance had gone well, in part because of me.
Suddenly the floor beneath us began to vibrate, as if a train were thundering by. I heard the rumbling and creaking of machinery as a giant tree began to rise from the stage. I knew the audience would hear none of this, though, as the music of the orchestra swelled to cover up the rumbling of the gears.
As the tree finished growing, the oohs and aahs from the audience sounded like one giant sigh. “Mice, you’re on,” Bettina whispered.
Jade and I stepped to the side as the mice hurried onstage. Addison waved to me as she padded by. I tried to keep my eyes on her as she began to explore the house and the tree with the other mice. I had passed on Jackie Sanchez’s advice to Addison, and she really seemed to be taking it to heart. She skipped and swaggered as if she were having the time of her life.
I only hoped that when it was my turn to go onstage, I could do the same.
The stagehands lifted one end of Mother Ginger’s skirt. Leaning forward, I slipped inside with the other dancers. When the stagehands lowered it again, the bright lights from the stage made the fabric glow, as if we were inside a blue-green cloud.
When I wriggled my arms and shoulders to loosen up my muscles, Renata complained, “Quit elbowing me.”
Ms. Ferri tapped the skirt frame for silence, and I felt the butterflies begin to whirl around in my stomach. So I tried to picture the toys in the chest. I didn’t want to think about how cramped and dim it was inside this skirt or about how much my scalp itched beneath my cookie hat.
Finally, our music began.
Ms. Ferri’s feet rose and fell, keeping time.
One.
My legs tensed.
Two.
Luisa’s groping hand found mine.
Three.
I squeezed her fingers, wishing her good luck.
Four.
Overhead, the skirt began to bob back and forth as Ms. Ferri moved slowly toward the stage.
When the stilts clicked faintly against each other, I took a sideways step—and heard the soft whispering of ballet slippers as my castmates did the same.
One. Two.
Inside my stomach, the butterflies began whipping about as if in a hurricane.
Three. Four.
With each step, the skirt swayed like a ship in the ocean. Leaning over as I was, I felt like a giant trapped in a tiny boat as a storm churned up the waves around me.
We moved sideways until the stage lights shone through the teal fabric, and I could see the silhouette of the frame. The lights seemed to grow brighter and brighter as I followed the notes of our music. When Ms. Ferri stopped, I was ready.
The front panel of the skirt opened up, and I blinked through the thin second layer of fabric at the bright empty stage. The theater beyond the stage disappeared into darkness, and the stage looked like a raft floating beneath a starry night sky.
As I crept from beneath the skirt, I felt scared and excited all at once. I sucked in a breath of cool air, much cooler than the air had been beneath the skirt. Then, straightening up, I took a couple of steps. Eagerly, I pictured the jack-in-the-box. I sprang into the air—and instantly heard the wrong musical notes.
Oh, no! I jumped too soon! The realization hit me like a brick wall. My worst fear had just come true.
When I landed, my mind suddenly went blank. Behind me, I heard the footsteps of the other dancers as they got into position. But which way was I supposed to go? What was I supposed to do?
In a panic, I glanced wildly around and saw Jade on the throne with Paul. Her hands were on her lap, but she moved them up and down as if they were hopping from spot to spot. It was a secret message meant for me.
Yes, the jack-in-the-box—my routine flooded back to me in one big wave. It felt as if I’d blanked out for hours, but from the music, I realized it had been only seconds. I still had a chance to save the scene, but I had to forget about my mistake—to shake it off, just as Jackie Sanchez had told me to do.
Turning, I saw Ms. Ferri as Mother Ginger. She was motioning for me to come back to her. I raised my hands upward, more in relief than in celebration. Then I shook my head at Ms. Ferri, just as I was supposed to.
The next moment, I pictured the jack-in-the-box again, and as my imaginary Jack popped upward and outward, I sprang away from Ms. Ferri.
Shake it off, I told myself again. Just have fun. Feel the joy.
I pictured Addison’s tear-stained face breaking into a smile, and I began to dance just for her. I picked up the pace of my jumps, each of them stronger and higher and farther than the last. As I caught up to the right cue, I knew there was nothing to be afraid of. This sunny stage was our playground—meant for Addison and me.
I didn’t just hear the notes of the orchestra; I felt them vibrate within me, like laughter bubbling up inside my chest.
On my next leap, I rose into the air with the musical notes, feeling as if we’d float up and up together until we could dance across the ceiling.
As my slippers thumped softly back down onstage, I told myself, Next time, I won’t come down. Next time, I’ll fly on and on.
Emilio gave me a
big grin, as if he was having as much fun as I was. He licked his lips and rubbed his stomach. When he tried to grab me, I laughed as if he was the silliest boy in the world. There was no way a clumsy human could touch a cookie as clever and fast as me.
I held my arms just slightly away from my sides as I pictured the toy top. My legs had never felt stronger as I rose on one foot, and my turn had never been crisper as I spun out of Emilio’s reach.
As his fingers grabbed the empty air, young, high voices began to laugh. And when I came neatly out of my spin, small hands began clapping frantically from all around the theater. Some little kids were rooting for this Gingerbread Girl to escape.
The laughter and applause encouraged my castmates, too. Agnes the Maid lunged at me as if she was starving. Renata the Duchess looked outraged when I didn’t obey her commands. My Gingerbread Girl teased them all. No hand or paw or claw could touch me.
The only one who didn’t try was Luisa the Fox. As I did my best to get her attention, I heard one little girl shouting at me not to do that.
When Luisa finally pounced at me, I pictured a toy top getting close to the edge of a table.
I have to spin away, I warned myself.
Raising my arms, I gave a kick that sent me into my pirouette. As I turned, I saw Mother Ginger holding out her arms for me to come back to her so that she could protect me.
Beyond her, on the throne, Jade was giving me a big grin. From the way my cheeks were stretching, I knew I must be smiling just as broadly—and all on my own, without Ms. Ferri having to remind me.
The sight of Jade was all I needed. I sprang high in the air, not toward Mother Ginger but toward my sister sitting behind her. My feet barely touched the stage before I leaped again, feeling as light and free and happy as the music that swirled around me.
Suddenly I found my path blocked by Mother Ginger’s skirt. As the panel flew up, I almost turned away. No, it’s too soon! I thought. I want to keep dancing!
But from behind me, I could hear the others charging toward me. Even the Fourth of July and Christmas had to come to an end. So did this dance. But there’ll be another show, I reminded myself. There was always the next show to look forward to.
Bending over, I slipped beneath the skirt. Crouching once again inside the glowing blue-green skirt, I moved away from the opening and made way for my castmates. I was Isabelle the dancer again, no longer the Gingerbread Girl.
I heard the other dancers panting as they ducked after me into the skirt, one by one. As the last dancer, Emilio, entered, the flap dropped down again.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Ms. Ferri moved her feet in the same tempo as the music, and yet time seemed to speed by much faster now as we began our crab-walk offstage. When we reached the wings, out of sight from the audience, the stagehands lifted up one side of the skirt. Sweating and tired, we tumbled out and stood up. Every one of us was grinning from ear to ear. I gave Luisa a high-five, and pretty soon we were all high-fiving each other. Even Renata gave me a broad smile and a hand slap.
Luisa wrapped her arms around me. “I thought you had springs on your feet,” she said with a laugh.
“A-plus performance, Isabelle,” Ms. Ferri agreed. “You’re the perfect Gingerbread Girl.”
Perfect? It occurred to me suddenly that my performance had been anything but perfect. I had messed up my very first jump. But then I realized that Ms. Ferri was talking about how well I’d played my role as the Gingerbread Girl. Like Jackie Sanchez had said, a dance routine was about much more than doing the steps perfectly.
“Thanks,” I said. “I had…I had fun.”
The applause was loud and enthusiastic during the curtain call, as Jade and the principal dancers took turns bowing and receiving bouquets of flowers.
I felt a little sad as the curtain closed for good. Beyond it, I heard seat cushions springing up and the murmur of voices as people began to leave the theater.
All around me, dancers were hugging one another. Mr. Kosloff appeared backstage and began drifting among the dancers, congratulating them. When he came to Luisa, he tweaked the ear of her costume and said, “There’s my sly fox. Well done.”
Then he grasped both my hands in his. “And here’s my little jump-for-joy,” he said warmly. “Excellent, excellent, Isabelle. And thank you so much for your help on the costumes. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you.”
As Mr. Kosloff moved on, Luisa hooked her arm through mine. “Wow,” she whispered in my ear. “Compliments on your dancing and your designs. You’re batting two for two.”
I grinned back at her. “Well, I bet your fox impressed Danny’s friends, too,” I said.
“I hope so,” said Luisa, but without any of the nervousness I saw before. She had danced well—she knew it. And her brother would be proud.
Luisa and I made our way through the crowd to Jade. Renata was already there, easing around Jade’s roses to give my sister a quick, awkward hug.
As Renata made room for us, Jade threw an arm around me and hugged me tight, nearly crushing her roses. “There you are,” she said. “It was always my dream to dance with you in The Nutcracker, and now it’s really happened. You were just…wow!”
“So were you,” I said, squeezing her back.
“I wish I could take a picture of you two,” Luisa said. Suddenly she glanced over my shoulder, and her eyes widened. When Jade let go of me and stepped backward, her eyes were just as big as Luisa’s.
When I felt someone tap my shoulder, I thought it must be another dancer wanting to congratulate me. But when I turned around, I found myself face to face with Jackie Sanchez.
“Hi, Isabelle,” she said. “What a wonderful Gingerbread Girl! I could tell you had fun out there. Your leaps had such joy. And your happiness was contagious. You were having fun, and so the other dancers did, too.”
“Thanks,” I managed to say.
“I also liked how you kept your cool and calmed that little mouse down before she had to go on,” she added.
“Well, I kind of knew how she felt,” I said truthfully.
“I think you’re just the kind of person I need for a pet project of mine,” Jackie said, raising her eyebrows. “What do you think? Will you be in my show?”
Me? Dance with Jackie Sanchez? My mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.
This was so far beyond anything I had ever dreamed of. Jackie Sanchez was famous all over the world for her dancing, and I had just performed for the first time in a real theater. I didn’t belong on the same stage as her.
Jackie smiled patiently as she waited for my answer, but my tongue felt like a lump of lead.
As usual, my big sister came to my rescue. Putting her hand on my cookie hat, Jade forced me to nod my head up and down.
“My sister,” Jade announced, “would be glad to.”
Laurence Yep is the author of more than 60 books. His numerous awards include two Newbery Honors and the Laura Ingalls Wilder medal for his contribution to children’s literature. Several of his plays have been produced in New York, Washington, D.C., and California.
Though The Nutcracker was a regular holiday treat for Laurence as a boy, it was his wife, Joanne Ryder, who really showed him how captivating and inspiring dance can be with her gift of tickets to the San Francisco Ballet. Their seats were high in the balcony, yet they were able to see the graceful, expressive movements of the dancers far below.
Laurence Yep’s books about Isabelle are his latest ones about ballet and a girl’s yearning to develop her talents and become the dancer she so wishes to be.
Special thanks to Kristy Callaway, executive director of Arts Schools Network; and Shannon Gallagher, owner of and instructor at Premier Dance Academy, LLC, Madison, WI
Letter from American Girl
Dear Readers,
Isabelle finds a creative way to use her talent for fashion design to help her sister, Jade. Here are the stories of some real girls who also have a knack for fashion—and helping others
.
Read about a trio of friends who opened a sewing and mending center in their school library; a knitter who sold her designs to raise money for someone in need; and two girls who created a magazine to share fashion tips with others.
As you read these stories, you’ll learn some tips for how to follow your passion for fashion, too.
Your friends at American Girl
Real Girls, Real Stories
A Sewing Club
Learning to make bags and skirts from recycled fabric was fun for Aida, Michelle, and Sunny, members of a school sewing club. But those projects were just the start of their effort to be “sew green.”
It takes energy for a factory to make and ship a new piece of clothing, and it costs money for a person to buy it. “We knew that throwing things out wastes energy and money,” says one club member, Michelle W., age 11. When club members realized they could help their Illinois school to be more earth-friendly, they opened a mending center in the school library. Students and staff could drop off items that needed to be fixed, and club members would do the work for free. “So, instead of buying a new pair of jeans, you could keep the ones you’ve been wearing,” says Aida S., age 11.
Club members mended lots of jeans, as well as shirts, backpacks, socks, sweaters, and even puppets used in a prekindergarten classroom. The club was always busy with mending projects, and people’s reactions made the club’s effort worth it, says Sunny L., age 11. “People were really happy and excited that their clothes were fixed.”
A Knack for Knitting
Phoenix B., a 14-year-old Virginia girl, started a business designing knitted clothing and accessories such as sweaters, arm warmers, dancewear, and bags. It all started when she entered a shawl that she had designed in an art show, and she won first place. When everyone wanted to buy the shawl, Phoenix realized that she could turn her hobby into a business. She designed more shawls in different shapes and sizes and started selling them in stores and on her website.