To the Stars, Isabelle Page 4

“But you’ve got the idea more or less,” Jackie said. Then she turned to me. “And now, let’s try your solo, Isabelle.”

  Jackie started out with a couple of hops on her right foot. Her other leg was raised slightly, the knee bent so that her left foot was behind her right leg. Then she reversed the move, hopping on her left foot with her right foot behind her.

  Next, she did another pair of hops on each foot, but this time she kicked the opposite leg forward. Then she launched into a leap. My excitement grew as I saw how Jackie had tailored the routine for me—with the jumps that I liked to do. I couldn’t wait to run through my solo! As I watched Jackie, my body began moving on its own, my arms and legs shifting slightly with each step.

  On my first attempt at the solo, I did it in slow motion as Jackie kept time with her hands. About halfway through, though, I forgot the next step.

  “Like this,” Jackie said. Rising on her toes, she took quick, small steps across the floor, swinging her head from side to side with each step.

  I watched myself in the mirror as I did my best to copy her.

  When we had finished, Jackie gave me her notes. “When you land after a leap, I want you to put all your energy way up here,” she said, tapping the base of my neck.

  I tried a leap again and discovered that I stood a little straighter when I landed. I liked how my reflection looked in the mirror, so I made a mental note to try to remember that tip from now on.

  After a few more repetitions, Luisa and I finally got to do our solos to music. And I began thinking about ways to visualize the steps so that I’d remember them. I pictured the sea fairy skipping over the waves. When I took a leap, I would rise like a spray of water hitting a rock.

  When it was time to rehearse the ending of our routine, Jackie gave us another one of her tips. “You’re going to feel tired by the time you get to this point,” she told us. “But remember, you’re the climax of the whole show. You’ve got to leave the audience feeling excited and joyful.”

  “So show lots of dance juice,” I said, mostly to myself.

  “What?” Jackie asked, giving a half laugh.

  “My mom said I had a lot of it when I was little,” I explained. “I was always dancing.”

  Jackie smiled. “Yes, dance juice—I like it,” she said. “Do you know how I keep my dance juice flowing? I try to picture someone special in the audience—someone I’m performing especially for and wouldn’t want to disappoint. Can you girls think of someone special you might picture?”

  “My brother, Danny,” Luisa said right away. Her brother was in the army, stationed in Texas, and I knew she missed him a lot.

  “Good,” said Jackie. “What about you, Isabelle? Is there someone special you can think of?”

  “Sure, my sister,” I said.

  Jackie nodded. “Family’s great,” she said. “Okay, so let’s practice the end of the routine.”

  As I followed her back out onto the floor, though, I couldn’t help wondering, Who is the special person you think of, Jackie?

  When I got home from rehearsal, a recording of Dad’s “Pond Dreams” song floated through the house. He’d named it after Mom’s mobile, and it was Jade’s and my new favorite song.

  “Hey, Isabelle!” Jade called from the living room. “I’m in here.”

  I was eager to get into the sewing room to start making more capes, but when I poked my head into the living room, I was surprised to see that Jade had already unrolled the shimmery green material across the rug. The cardboard tube lay bare. Concentrating hard, with her tongue sticking out from a corner of her mouth, Jade was starting to cut out the first cape.

  “What’re you doing?” I asked. “Where’s Mom?”

  Jade’s scissors went snick-snick-snick. “When she got your text, she went to pick up more fabric,” Jade explained. “And I thought I’d give you a head start on the capes.”

  Jade sometimes helped us make costumes, but only when Mom or I asked her to. “Did Mom ask you to help?” I asked. “You don’t have to, Jade. I know you’re busy.”

  She grinned. “This was my idea,” she said. “You’re my little sister. I’m always there for you when you need me, right?”

  “Right.” I smiled. My big sister was coming to the rescue, as always.

  I figured there was enough material for two more capes, so I went to get another pair of scissors from the sewing room. But as I passed by the bathroom, I heard scratching inside. “Oh, poor Tutu, did you get locked in?” I asked.

  “M-rowrrrr,” Tutu answered pitifully.

  “Don’t open the door!” Jade shouted from the living room. “I had to put Tutu in there while I cut the capes or she would have shredded them.”

  I could just picture Tutu pouncing on the capes, claws extended. “Sorry, Tutu,” I said, taking my hand off the doorknob.

  When I came back into the living room, Jade stood up to show me her work. “Well, that’s one cape cut now,” she announced proudly.

  But I saw instantly that the cape was too long. It reached almost to the floor!

  “Didn’t Mom give you the measurements?” I asked, trying to control my wobbly voice. “The cape is only supposed to reach to the waist.”

  Jade shrugged. “I didn’t decide to do this until after she left,” she said.

  Now I couldn’t keep the frustration from my voice. “But you used too much fabric,” I said. “What if Mom can’t get more? We’re going to get only one more cape out of it now instead of two!”

  Jade stiffened. “Why are you shouting at me?” she asked. “I was just trying to help.”

  I took a deep breath. “Look, I appreciate it,” I said, “but…” I didn’t know how to tell her that she was making things harder rather than easier.

  “I get it,” Jade said. “This is what happens when I try to do something I’m not good at.” She draped the cape across the coffee table and turned to leave the room.

  Now I felt bad. “Forget I said anything,” I said quickly. “Stay, Jade. Please?”

  “No, I’ll stick to ballet from now on,” she said, not looking me in the eye. “I’ll leave design to you.”

  Jade was just heading upstairs when Mom and Dad got home.

  “We come bearing fabric and…” Dad boomed, holding up two white paper bags.

  Jade and I instantly forgot about our fight. “Crab!” we both shouted. The scent was already making my mouth water.

  “We stopped by the Fish Wharf on the way home,” Dad explained. The Fish Wharf was actually a set of barges with shops floating on the Potomac River just a little ways from the Jefferson Memorial. “Maybe we should lock up Tutu before we eat,” Dad added, looking around. “Last time we spent half the meal shoving her off our laps.”

  Tutu mewed from the bathroom, right on cue. “Already done,” I said, giggling. “Remember that time she got into the crab leftovers? She was such a mess, it took both Jade and me to clean her up.” I glanced over at Jade, but she was opening one of the paper sacks and didn’t look up. Was she still feeling bad about the cape?

  We never bothered with plates or silverware when we had Fish Wharf crab. We would just set out four mallets. After spreading newspapers on the kitchen table, we would tear open the paper sacks so that there were two piles of crab. And then it was every girl for herself. Oh, and Dad, too.

  Lunch was very noisy as we tapped at the claws with mallets. But I still managed to fill Mom and Dad in on practice. “Jackie liked my idea of designing capes for every dancer,” I said proudly.

  “If you have enough fabric for that,” Jade sighed. So she was still thinking about her mistake.

  “We have more than enough material now,” Mom assured us. “In fact, I bought extra. Do you want to make a cape for Jackie, Isabelle?”

  For Jackie? I hadn’t even thought of that, but… “Yes, definitely!” I said.

  Dad gave a low whistle. “That’s a lot of capes,” he acknowledged. “You two are going to be busy.”

  “I’m going to star
t right after lunch,” I promised. “I want to do most of the work myself so that Mom doesn’t have to.”

  Mom gave me a grateful smile, but later, as we started to clean up, she said she wanted to help me. I glanced at Jade, hoping she would offer to help again, too, but she was washing her hands at the sink, her back turned.

  “And how is your own costume idea coming?” Mom asked me.

  “I got Jackie’s okay on it,” I said. “I’m going to be a sea fairy, like the picture on Jade’s postcard.” I looked over at Jade. “Thanks for the idea, sis.”

  Jade shrugged. “At least I could help you with that,” she said as she dried her hands.

  I felt bad about hurting my sister’s feelings, but once I was settled into Mom’s sewing room, I started worrying about something else: the design for Jackie’s cape. Figuring out designs for my castmates had been easy. Coming up with a design that would be worthy of Jackie Sanchez, though, would be the real challenge.

  At the next rehearsal, Jackie greeted Luisa and me carrying a large bolt of blue material. Was this the special prop that Jackie had promised she’d bring for my sea fairy routine?

  With a snap of her wrists, she sent the cloth unfurling across the studio floor like a sapphire carpet. “Luisa, take one end and walk toward that wall,” she directed. “Isabelle, you take the other end and walk to the opposite wall.”

  When we were standing across the room from each other, Jackie told us to hold the cloth with both hands and wave it up and down. We tried it, and the cloth spread and billowed, as if alive.

  “It’s like the waves of the ocean,” I said.

  “Exactly! And I’ve got another bolt just like that,” Jackie said. “Some of your castmates can be wave makers for your number.” She motioned to Luisa. “You’ll come onstage, Luisa, and begin your dance. And Isabelle…” Squatting down, she crept under the rising and falling cloth and then sprang back up. “You’ll appear from out of the waves and be fascinated by Luisa. Once the wave makers leave the stage with the cloth, you’ll begin to imitate Luisa.”

  Jackie took over holding my end of the cloth so that I could practice my entrance. It felt magical to spring up from beneath that blue band like a fairy from the sea.

  I held on to that feeling while we practiced our solos and our closing routine. And at the end of rehearsal, when Jackie, Luisa, and I crossed our index fingers and whispered “shipmates,” this time I felt as if we really were.

  We’d no sooner lifted our hands away when a phone rang. Jackie hurried to her dance bag. “I’ve got to take this, girls,” she said, waving an apologetic good-bye.

  The school was silent as Luisa and I left the studio. I figured we must have been the last cast members to leave, but I wasn’t complaining.

  Outside, I took in a deep breath of fresh air. It was such a sunny spring afternoon that I didn’t want to waste it. “You doing anything now?” I asked Luisa.

  “Mom and I are going to bake some sequilhos to send to Danny,” Luisa said. “They crumble in the mail, but at least that way, Danny doesn’t have to share them with his buddies.”

  I giggled. I loved sequilhos, the melt-in-your-mouth cookies that Luisa’s family makes from cornstarch, butter, and sweetened condensed milk.

  Maybe Jade and I can bake some cookies this afternoon, too, I thought to myself, reaching for my phone so that I could call her. After scolding her about the cape, I figured we were due for some sister time—if she wasn’t practicing or studying.

  I dug deep into my bag for my phone, but it wasn’t there. Had it had fallen out in the studio?

  “I can’t find my phone,” I said to Luisa. “I’ve got to go back to school before they lock the doors.”

  “Okay,” Luisa said. “I’ll save some sequilhos to bring to you on Monday—if Dad doesn’t find them first.”

  “Thanks!” I said. But since Luisa’s dad was as good at sniffing out treats as Tutu, I didn’t have my hopes up.

  I hurried back to school and up the steps. To my relief, one of the doors was open, and I ran along the hallway toward the modern dance studio. I started to push open the door to the studio but paused when I heard Jackie’s voice from inside. She sounded frustrated.

  “I’m just not free right now, Jean-Claude,” Jackie said. “You’ll have to find someone else to dance Odette.”

  Odette? Wow. Odette was a major role in Swan Lake. Was Jackie turning down that role?

  I peeked through the crack of the door and saw that Jackie had her phone pressed to her ear. She was pacing back and forth, the rubber soles of her sneakers squeaking against the vinyl floor. “I know this kind of opportunity doesn’t come along very often, but I still have to say no,” she said again. “I’m sorry. I have important commitments.”

  I tried to close the door before Jackie could see or hear me, but the lock clicked loudly. I’d gotten just a few feet down the hall before the studio door opened and Jackie called, “Isabelle, is that you?”

  “I’m sorry,” I called back. “I didn’t realize you were in the studio. I came back to look for my phone.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said, smiling. “I found it for you.” She motioned for me to come back inside and then pulled my phone out of her bag. “So, you heard my conversation?” she asked.

  “Part of it,” I admitted, my cheeks flushing.

  Jackie sighed. “The principal in New York City Ballet’s Swan Lake injured her ankle during rehearsals, and they didn’t think her understudy was ready,” she explained. “Promise not to tell anyone that I turned them down?”

  “I promise,” I told her, although I wondered how I could keep news like this from Luisa or Jade.

  Jackie arched an eyebrow. “That phone call left me feeling kind of restless,” she said. “I need to work off some energy. Feel like dancing a little more?”

  I hesitated. “You mean with you?” I asked.

  Jackie smiled. “I think we’re still warmed up, right?” she said. “I feel myself brimming over with dance juice.”

  Reaching into her bag, Jackie took out her phone, as well as a pair of pointe shoes. The ribbons dangled down over her hands. “Do you remember your flower routine from the Autumn Festival?” she asked me.

  “I think so,” I said as I reached into my bag for my own ballet slippers. Then I watched, fascinated, as Jackie wound the ribbons of her pointe shoes around her ankles and tied a knot, tucking the ends neatly under one of the bands. She did it so expertly and easily. How many thousands of times had she done this same thing?

  She got to her feet and tapped first one foot on the floor and then the other, as if making sure her shoes were securely on her feet. Then she scrolled through the list of songs on her phone. “Ready?” she asked.

  I got to my feet and stepped in position. “Yes, ma’am,” I said, swallowing hard. Who would believe I was going to dance with Jackie? It was so far beyond anything I had ever dreamed of.

  As I heard the familiar notes of the French horn, Jackie suddenly rose en pointe, and I caught my breath. She started moving along the floor with a series of quick, soft taps of her shoes. From a distance, I knew it would seem as if she were gliding across the floor, but up close I could see how hard her leg muscles were working.

  Jackie glanced over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows when she saw me standing like a statue—with my mouth open. She motioned for me to join her.

  Don’t just watch. This is the chance of a lifetime, I told myself. I pictured a water lily floating in the pond, my visualization for this dance, and began to move alongside Jackie.

  It had been months since I’d danced the Waltzing Flowers routine, so there were moments when I struggled. But Jackie seemed to have eyes in the back of her head, and whenever I was having trouble, she turned to smile encouragingly. Then she would gesture gracefully or demonstrate a step so that all I had to do was follow her lead for a while.

  I knew that Jackie could have performed this routine with much more complicated moves. The difference betw
een her skill level and mine was like the distance between the moon and me. But she deliberately kept her moves simple so that I could follow along. She held back to let me feel like a true partner.

  As I leapt into the air, Jackie rose beside me, dancing higher and farther and longer so that I really felt as if I were dancing with the moon. And as I leaped with Jackie again, my heart nearly burst with excitement and happiness. I wanted to put this moment into a glass globe so that I could keep it forever.

  When we were done, we sat with our backs against the wall, trying to catch our breath. “It’s been a long time since I danced just for the fun of it,” Jackie said. “I have to do this more often.”

  “Don’t you dance all the time?” I asked.

  Jackie rolled her head against the wall to look at me. “Yes, but between ballet classes and learning choreography for performances with New York City Ballet, I never have time to dance just for myself,” she said. “I was always doing that when I was small, especially with my abuelita—my grandmother. She was a folk dancer, and dancing was as natural for her as breathing.” Jackie smiled as she remembered. “She’d dance in place when she cooked at the stove and then dance as she brought the bowls of food to the dinner table. Sometimes when the bowls were full, I’d follow her with a towel to mop up the spills.”

  I giggled. “I was always dancing, too, when I was little,” I said. “I knocked over so much stuff that my parents had to keep all the breakables up high.”

  “Ah, so you were born a dancer as well,” Jackie said, smiling. “When did you know you wanted to dance ballet?”

  I didn’t have to think before I answered. “When I saw my older sister’s recital,” I said.

  Jackie nodded. “My grandmother took me to the HDC as a birthday present,” she said. “I can only guess how many tables she waited on to buy the tickets. It was love at first sight for me. When I saw those ballerinas, I knew that’s what I wanted to be. And once I started dancing, I couldn’t stop. Abuelita called me la mariposa, which means ‘the butterfly,’ because I was always flitting around.”