Warm Up

by Sara Leach

  As the warm-up continued, however, Jasmine’s joy turned to pain and sweat. Miss Carina seemed determined to push them to their limits through all parts of the class, not just choreography. They did so many tendus—sliding their feet across the floor, then pointing their toes while holding their arms out straight at shoulder height—that Jasmine thought her arms might fall off.

  “No dropping your arms,” Miss Carina said. “If they’re tired, engage your back muscles. The stronger you are, the better you’ll be able to dance.”

  Jasmine knew this was true, but it still hurt. No sooner had they finished their tendus and kicks than they were on the floor for stomach crunches and push-ups. Jasmine had always thought it strange that the whole first part of class was called warm-up. In most sports, warm-up lasted fifteen minutes and was all about getting ready to do the sport. In dance, warm-up lasted most of the class and included strength, stretching and technique training.

  They began their floor stretches. This was another part of warm-up that Jasmine loved. Stretching came more easily to her than the strength moves. But today, even the stretching was difficult.

  Jasmine spread her legs in a straddle and reached forward along the floor. Miss Carina came over and pressed against her back. “Keep your toes pointed and your knees facing the ceiling.” As soon as Jasmine turned her knees up, her leg muscles started to protest, and she had to back off the stretch.

  “Rolling your knees forward is cheating,” Miss Carina said. “It allows you to stretch farther, but it’s a bad habit. Knees to the ceiling, always.”

  Miss Carina circled around the class, barking out instructions and giving pieces of advice. By the time warm-up was finished, Jasmine’s legs felt like cooked spaghetti. And they still had to do their choreography.

  She stumbled to the side of the room, gulped down some water and began pulling on her foot thongs, small pieces of leather that protected the bottom of her feet and allowed her to turn and slide more easily.

  Miss Carina clapped her hands. “Move it, girls. Get into your starting positions.”

  Jasmine sipped more water and staggered to her place at the back left of the group. She moved into the window of space between Chelsea and Darveet, checking that she could see herself in the mirror. She wanted to be sure the audience could see her if she was onstage.

  All eight girls were sweaty and red-cheeked. At least Jasmine wasn’t the only one hurting from warm-up. The temperature in the studio had climbed steadily as their body heat rose. Jasmine didn’t bother asking if she could open a window. She knew Miss Carina would tell her how dangerous cold air could be for a dancer’s muscles. But what about the damage the stuffy air was doing to their lungs? Jasmine had always wanted to ask but had never had the guts.

  “For now we’ll stick with our formations,” Miss Carina said. “I may change them later, depending on how everyone is dancing.”

  Jasmine felt a ripple of excitement go through the team, especially the back row. Everyone wanted to be in front. Jasmine knew from watching other groups perform that the audience mostly watched the front row. You had to make a concerted effort to watch the girls in the back. It was parents watching their kids who noticed the ones in behind. Miss Carina never said it outright, but she always managed to put the best dancers in front. It made sense, but it didn’t seem fair.

  “We’ll start with the same opening, but instead of double chaînés, I want triples.”

  “In the same amount of time?” Chelsea asked.

  “Of course in the same amount of time,” Miss Carina barked. “You’ll have to move your feet faster. And don’t forget to spot.”

  Everyone nodded. Chaînés were two half turns linked together. You stepped out facing the mirror with your right foot, then stepped with your left to face the back wall. Usually they did that twice in a row—double chaînés. Now they’d have to do it three times. Not too big a deal—in warm-up, they often did a whole row of them across the floor—but they’d have to be quick to fit three to the music.

  Spotting was looking at one spot in the direction you were going for as long as possible, and then whipping your head around at the last second. It stopped dancers from getting dizzy and throwing up when they did a lot of turns.

  “From the top,” Miss Carina said.

  Jasmine knelt down in her opening position, with her head on her knees. The first slow bars of the music started, and she counted along in her head. Four counts of gentle guitar and piano during which nobody moved. On count five, the girls in the front row began pulsing to the music. On seven, Jasmine and her row joined in. Together, they lifted halfway up, not looking at the audience, then folded back down over their knees. Sweeping one arm out to the side and up to the ceiling, then the other, they bobbed and floated over their knees like butterflies, then swept both arms up and rose to their feet, looking at the mirror for the first time.

  They floated their arms to their sides, paused and started their chaînés as the lyrics began. Jasmine kept her feet close together and her arms in tight, trying to turn as fast as she could. She felt the room spinning around her even after she stopped, and it took her a moment to realize she hadn’t quite finished her final turn and was out of place in the dance.

  “Cut!” yelled Miss Carina. She paused the music. “Girls, I told you to spot. Those chaînés were terrible. Try it again without the music.”

  Everyone went back to their opening positions, and Miss Carina counted out the music. “And one and two and three and first group up and six and second group and one all together. Arms up. And chaînés. Spot! Spot! Spot!”

  This time, Jasmine remembered to spot. She completed her third turn and was facing the right direction in the right place.

  “Again!” cried Miss Carina. “Better spotting, but Jasmine and Felicity, you’re too slow.”

  Back they went. On the third try, Jasmine got it right, but Melanie was off. Finally, on the fifth run-through, Miss Carina deemed it correct, and they were able to try again with the music. Fifteen minutes of working on choreography, and they’d only made it through three counts of eight. They still had two full minutes of the dance to work on. How would they ever be ready in time for finals?

  Chapter Three

  At practice two days later, Jasmine opened the door into the studio stairwell to find Shira pulling off her shoes.

  “Man,” her friend said. “I’m so stiff I can hardly bend over.”

  “Me too!” Jasmine said, glad to hear that someone else was sore after their Tuesday practice. “Do you think she’s going to make us work that hard again today?”

  “Probably harder. Maybe she’ll make us do pirouettes for an hour and a half today, instead of chaînés.”

  Jasmine giggled. “Maybe we’ll get to move on to the tenth second of the song.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  Melanie popped her head out of the door to the studio. “Shira and Jasmine. Hurry up!”

  Shira looked at Melanie, then at Jasmine, and raised her eyebrows. “Who made her the dance police?”

  Jasmine shrugged and started up the stairs.

  They went into the studio, put their water bottles away and joined the team, which was already in position for warm-up. Jasmine noticed that, like her, everyone was wearing as little as possible today. Even though the weather was cool for May, she had on her spaghetti-strap leotard and her dance shorts instead of tights. The rest of the team was similarly dressed. Everyone knew it would be hot in the studio today.

  Usually the dancers stood in pretty much the same spots each week, with Jasmine, Shira, Felicity and Melanie in the back, and the more experienced dancers—Chelsea, Robyn, Darveet and Andrea—in the front. But it was different today. Melanie had staked out a spot front and center, forcing Robyn to move to the back.

  Shira and Jasmine looked at each other, and Shira raised her
eyebrows again. What was going on?

  Miss Carina walked in, nodded to the girls and started the music. As Jasmine lifted her arms in the opening plié sequence, her muscles groaned in protest. It was still her favorite move of the warm-up, and if this move hurt, she was in trouble.

  Melanie seemed to be glowing and was taking up as much space in front of the mirror as she could. Every time Jasmine moved to get a better view of Miss Carina, Melanie would move too, blocking her. After they’d done their kicks, tendus and pliés and were doing their standing straddle stretch, Melanie looked through her legs and called back, “Jasmine, straighten your knees.”

  Jasmine grimaced as she looked at her knees, which did have an ever-so-slight bend in them. What made Melanie suddenly decide that she was the teacher?

  Nobody else noticed except for Shira, who turned her head toward Jasmine, screwed up her face and stuck out her tongue. She looked so funny doing it upside down that Jasmine broke into giggles.

  “Jasmine,” shouted Miss Carina. “Focus on your stretching!”

  Jasmine turned her head back to the floor. That wasn’t fair. Why hadn’t Miss Carina said anything to Melanie? Had she ignored Melanie on purpose?

  By the end of the warm-up, Jasmine felt like a pile of wet rags. She was also ready to slap Melanie, who’d called instructions to her two more times without getting caught. The only good news was that Melanie would have to move to her place in the back row for choreography.

  Jasmine pulled on her foot thongs, drank some water and hurried to her opening spot for the dance.

  “Girls, I’m going to make a placement change for the opening formation of our dance,” Miss Carina said. “Melanie and Chelsea, switch positions, please. You are about the same height, so nobody else needs to switch.”

  A silence fell over the girls as Melanie strode to Chelsea’s spot.

  Shira wiggled her eyebrows. Jasmine knew exactly what she was thinking. Melanie had known the switch was coming. That’s why she’d been acting like such a diva during warm-up.

  Chelsea obviously hadn’t known about the switch. Her mouth had dropped open at the announcement. Then she’d snapped it shut. Jasmine was sure she heard her teeth clash together. As Chelsea walked into the back row, her cheeks flamed red.

  Jasmine felt a bit sorry for Chelsea, but it wasn’t like she was being kicked off the team or anything. There were only two rows. She wasn’t being banished to Siberia. Jasmine tried to smile at her, but Chelsea wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  Miss Carina clapped to get their attention. “I’d like to finish the first section of the dance today. Run through the bars we worked on last class.”

  The girls knelt down for the opening, and Miss Carina counted them in. “Five, six, seven, eight.”

  They ran through the opening, including the new triple chaînés, then stopped and looked at their teacher. Jasmine could tell everyone was holding their breath, waiting for her critique.

  She nodded. “Not bad. Your chaînés are looking better, but you still need to hold your spots longer. We’re going to move forward.”

  Jasmine let her breath out. Finally.

  “The next section is our partner work. Chelsea, your new partner is Jasmine. Melanie, you’re partnered with Darveet. Walk through the moves.”

  The girls returned to the spots where they had finished their chaînés. Miss Carina counted them in again, and they pushed back, swiveled and jazz-walked over to their partners, in a staggered line of four pairs.

  It felt strange to work with Chelsea instead of Melanie. Jasmine had never done any partner work with her before. They reached their hands out and pressed them together in front of their chests, then drew back, turning away and looking at the floor before rejoining hands and then resting their heads on each other’s shoulders.

  “Stop there,” Miss Carina said. “I want you to run it from the top to here. I’m not making any changes to this section.”

  Jasmine breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at Chelsea, but Chelsea didn’t smile back. She turned away and went to her spot.

  They ran the piece again. When they got to the end of the section, Miss Carina stopped the music and let out a grunt of frustration. “Girls, you’re missing the point of this number.”

  Jasmine frowned. What on earth was Miss Carina talking about?

  “This is lyrical, not jazz. The reason it’s called lyrical is because it’s like poetry—it expresses emotion. I want you to feel that emotion. What’s this story about?” She looked at the team. Melanie raised her hand. “Yes, Melanie?”

  “It’s about a girl who has to leave her family to go on a journey. When she gets where she’s going, she has no friends. But then she makes friends and celebrates.”

  Miss Carina flashed a rare smile at Melanie. “Exactly! I’m glad you’ve been paying attention.”

  Chelsea rolled her eyes. Jasmine was surprised—usually Chelsea was so supportive of everyone on the team.

  Miss Carina’s eyes roamed over the girls. “I want to feel that you’re sad to be leaving your family. Even when we’re practicing, I want to see it.”

  Jasmine had no idea how to do what Miss Carina wanted. She looked at her teammates. Most of them were nodding, as though what their teacher had said made perfect sense. There was no way she was going to ask Miss Carina to explain though. Not after the way she’d been biting everyone’s heads off lately.

  “Right, try it again.”

  They ran the piece again. Jasmine tried to show emotion. Instead of smiling, she frowned—when she remembered to. But most of the time, she was busy thinking about the steps. Wasn’t it better to get the moves right and not fall or run into anyone?

  Miss Carina clapped her hands, signaling them to stop and listen. “A little better, most of you. But Jasmine, I can almost see you counting. This is lyrical. Show me the feeling.”

  Jasmine felt her face flush. She hated being singled out. Shira made a detour on her way back to her spot and gave Jasmine a squeeze on the arm.

  They started again. Miss Carina called out over the music, “You’re waking up, happy to see the new day. Come on, girls, let’s see some joy on those faces!”

  Jasmine spread her arms in the opening moves, stretching her lips into a smile.

  “Now you’re meeting with your family. You learn that you have to leave. You don’t want to, which is why you push away, but you know you must go.”

  Jasmine laid her head on Chelsea’s shoulder. What move came next? Right, the formation change.

  “Keep going,” Miss Carina said.

  The girls pushed away from each other and ran into a long line circling the room and forming a semicircle facing the mirror.

  “Stop there, girls. Run it again.”

  By the end of practice, they had made it through another three bars of music. Jasmine slumped against the wall and took off her foot thongs. “This is going to take forever,” she said to Chelsea.

  Chelsea shrugged. “We want to be good for the finals.” She stepped into the alcove where she’d left her water bottle, pushing past Melanie.

  “Hey!” Melanie said. “Watch out.”

  “Stop taking up so much room, then,” Chelsea said. She scooped up her clothes. “C’mon, Darveet, my mom’ll be waiting.” As she and Darveet moved into the stairwell, Chelsea leaned in and whispered something to her. Darveet nodded and giggled, and then they ran down the stairs and out of sight.

  Chapter Four

  At the next class, Chelsea pushed open the door as Melanie and Jasmine were taking off their rain boots. “Hi, Jasmine,” she said.

  “Hey, Chelsea.”

  Chelsea pulled off her boots and stomped up the stairs without even looking at Melanie.

  “Hey!” Melanie said. “Aren’t you going to say hi to me?”

  Chelsea
stopped and let out a long sigh, her back to Melanie, then quickly looked over her shoulder and said a quick “Hi.”

  Melanie’s face turned red. She stormed up the stairs after Chelsea, grabbed her arm and spun her around. “I didn’t ask to trade spots, you know. Miss Carina was the one who decided to do it.”

  “Well, you didn’t have to be such a big show-off and mirror hog about it!” Chelsea yelled.

  “Maybe it’s time someone else got the front! You’ve always been Little Miss Perfect, but there are other people in the class who can dance too!”

  “I know that! But at least when I’m in the front, I don’t block everybody else.”

  Melanie’s face turned even redder. “You’re jealous because you aren’t the best dancer in the class anymore.” She turned and ran up the rest of the stairs, yanking open the door to the studio, running through and slamming it behind her.

  Chelsea stood in the stairwell for another minute. Jasmine watched from the bottom of the stairs. She had a feeling Chelsea had forgotten she was there, and she held her breath, trying not to make any sound. Finally, Chelsea tipped her chin up, rolled her shoulders a few times and marched up the rest of the stairs.

  Jasmine waited for another minute before following her. This was going to be an interesting class.

  It turned out to be a long, painful class full of snide looks and bickering. Melanie and Chelsea jockeyed for a spot in front of the mirror the entire time. Whenever there was a break, Chelsea ran over to Darveet and started whispering. Melanie and Felicity spent their breaks in the opposite corner with their heads bent together.