And All That Jazz (6 page)

The Silver Shoes dance troupe was huddled on the side of the stage, watching the group before us. I looked around at the other girls, with our big eyelashes, bouncy hair and rainbow dresses. We all looked fabulous but a little queasy, because in a minute that would be us, waiting behind the curtain.

I love this moment. Sure, I was nervous but I was also excited. I forgot how annoying
Jasmine was, or that Ashley had waltzed into
my
dance studio and tried to show me up. We were just the Silver Shoes team, about to go on stage together. It was thrilling. I grabbed onto Paige's arm and squeezed. Her curls almost whipped me in the face as she turned around to grin.

The troupe before us finished to a big clap. It was Rhythmics Dance Studio – they'd danced okay but they did the same moves you see at every dance comp. Where Silver Shoes stands out (and why I think we are the BEST studio!) is our choreography – it's amazing, unique and fun. Our teachers, especially Miss Caroline, choose the best, catchiest songs and none of our dances ever looks the same.

Silver Shoes has the wow factor. That's why I love dancing here. That's why I would never go to Dance Art. And that's probably why Ashley had switched.

One girl was a mess as she ran off the stage. She was gasping, ‘I forgot, I forgot,' and her friend was trying to give her a running hug. Hugs don't really help in a situation like that. It's a terrible feeling when you forget what's supposed to come next. It's embarrassing
and
heartbreaking, because you know you've ruined your one big chance.

Jasmine huddled us together once the Rhythmics girls were out of the wings. ‘Let's do it, Silver Shoes,' she whispered. I didn't even mind that she was taking charge. The girls probably had enough of me bossing them around anyway.

The adjudicator rang the bell and Silver Shoes were announced. We had ten seconds to get on stage and in position before the curtain opened. I ran out to where I was supposed to start.

Oh, that's right, at the centre front. Take that, Jasmine.

I got down into my front split and held out my arms for Riley. The opening of the song had our partners running on and lifting us up into a straddle jump – Miss Caroline likes to start dances with a bang.

Oh my god. The moment while I waited for that curtain to open felt like
forever
. I had to swallow several times just to stop my breakfast coming up.

But then the curtains opened.

And the music began.

Riley ran on stage and I could feel her reaching for my hands. All her excitement and energy passed from her palm to mine. And then I wasn't nervous anymore. I was just ready.

The funny thing about group dances is that they never feel long enough. When I was up there, getting thrown about by Riley, clapping and kicking at the head of the group, I could
have danced forever. I didn't want ‘You Can't Stop the Beat' to end.

Miss Caroline really had picked the best eight dancers in our jazz class. From the corner of my eye I could see everyone, and there was barely an arm or leg out of place. A couple of sickled feet, maybe. But that was the worst it got.

All too soon we were about to finish. Four of us cartwheeled through the gaps made by the other girls, then they front-aerialed through us, and we went on like that three more times until we all stag-leaped in the air, turned, and landed in our final pose.

There was a moment of silence and then one person clapped, followed by the whole theatre, with a fair few whistles and whoops as well. The curtain whooshed closed and it was just us again, our chests going up and down like the beat was trapped inside.

We won, of course. I knew we would.

The adjudicating was held right after our section. The judge said Silver Shoes was the standout, and that she ‘did not, indeed, want to stop the beat'. It was so great, and I was so happy for Miss Caroline. Dance Art only got an honourable mention. I bet Ashley was happy about that. Looks like they needed to do a bit more ‘practising' for the ‘bigger' competitions.

I couldn't celebrate for too long, though. I had to focus and get ready for my solo. I wanted to make the wins two out of two.

My solo was the last out of ten. In some ways it's good to be last. It means you can watch everyone else and study the competition and know just what you have to beat. But it also means your nerves build up, big time.

My nerves were obsessed with the ‘what'. What if I forgot the steps? What if there was someone important out there, watching? What if I was doing a leap and I threw up, mid-stride? Vomit on a talent scout's face is no way to impress them.

Ashley was first up, which meant bam, she could get her dance out of the way and just relax.

I stood with her side-stage while she was waiting to go on. She was going over her
dance in miniature, in the gap between the wings. You know when you see a dancer and they look sort of zoned out but also like they're having a furious physical argument with themselves? They're usually going over choreography. It's actually really calming right before you go on.

When Ash was announced, she looked like she might run away. But I gave her the Silver Shoes hug and as soon as she strutted onto the stage, you would never have guessed she'd been a mess only five seconds ago.

Watching Ash dance was pure happiness. She eased into the steps like the music was looking for her. Miss Caroline had choreographed her dance to Beyoncé's ‘Crazy in Love' and she hit all her steps with so much attitude. The dance didn't have as many technical aspects as mine, and I thought that might go against her. But the way she was sashaying across the stage in
her sparkly red pants, you could tell the adjudicator would score her highly.

‘You did so great, Ash,' I whispered when she came offstage. Her face was all bright and flushed and she looked in love with dancing. I know the feeling. I gave her another hug. Sure, I'd been a bit of a cow about Ashley, but I know good dancing when I see it. And Ash was an awesome dancer.

I went backstage to warm up and go over my solo. I like to have some me-time before I go on stage. I'm not like Riley or Tove, who can sit around and chat until the minute they go on. I need to focus. And to stay away from everyone in case I throw up.

It's not all glitter and sequins, you know.

‘Ellie,' someone hissed at me. I looked up from my moves and realised I'd lost track of time. Paige was waving at me. ‘Jasmine's on now! You're next!'

Gosh. Imagine after all this and I missed my cue. I gave Paige a quick hug and then snuck side-stage. I wasn't going to, because I didn't want to watch Jasmine and get put off. But I got too curious in the end.

Jasmine was in control the moment she burst on stage. And I mean burst. She came leaping, jumping and twirling like she wanted to shake the audience from their seats.

And she did. She was perfect. It's not hard to see why Jasmine is my number one rival. She has such beautiful classical lines, which makes her transitions between steps flawless. She was, to put it simply, just wow. And I couldn't even blame it on her choreography being a little too contemporary-based (which her jazz routines sometimes are). This was a whole new dance, and it was almost as jazzy as mine.

After she finished, the applause was so loud it was like there was a whole other hidden
audience cheering for her. But when I heard it, something strange happened – I got in the dance zone. All my vomity, nervous, excited feelings vanished. And the only thing left was determination.

I had to get more applause than Jasmine.

The bell rang, my number was called, and I walked out on to the stage.

How do I explain the feeling when I have a solo, and the stage is all mine, and there's only my dancing to fill it? I am what I'm dancing, but at the same time I'm not me. I'm the best version of Ellie I can be.

When I dance, for that moment, nothing else exists.

You know when you wake up from a really good sleep, and there's soft sunshine coming
through the gap in your curtains? Or when you come home from school and it's raining, and your mum has baked a cake, and you curl up on the couch to eat it, and the lounge room is all shadowy and dark? Or when you walk into an old theatre, and no one else is around, and you can see the dust swirling on the stage and think that it might be the ghosts of old actors up there, playing around?

That's how I feel when I dance. It's thrilling. It's my inspiration and my motivation all at once.

I was out there with my gorgeous costume, the feathers and the hoop and the big band music. The lights were in my eyes and the audience was a sea of blurry faces. There was a horrible two seconds of silence while I waited in position for the music.

But then it hit. And my arms reacted instantly. Up, down, up, down, turn around.
Kick, drag, kick, drag, pause. Double pirouette, pause, catch the hoop. Breathe.

The start was over. Now I just wanted to entertain the audience.

One of the best things about being on stage in front of an audience is that it makes you add little flourishes that turn a dance into a performance. I'm not talking about adding in whole new moves. I'm talking a flick there, a glance here, a shoulder there. Pulling the audience into the dance with you. I wanted them to feel how it made me feel, being up on stage, dancing. So I pushed my legs a little higher and I arched my back a bit more, and I made sure there was as much care put into my transitions as there was all my featured ‘tricks'.

There was one moment when the hoop almost got away from me. But I covered it up by acting as if the hoop was naughty. Then
I grabbed it as I transitioned to my next jump. Not once did I lose energy, or my face sag. I could see people watching me from side-stage, peering out between the curtains, and that put a little lift in my jumps too.

I knew, as I held my final position, and the applause
was
as loud as Jasmine's, that I'd done the best I could possibly do. When you hear people clapping for you it's like they're catching smiles and throwing them up on the stage. I felt like a million bucks.

‘Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand,' that poem says. ‘And Eternity in an hour.' I don't know if dancers would hold infinity in the palms of their hands – it would probably be more like the soles of their feet. But I was holding it somewhere as I bowed and the audience clapped, and I made my way back into the crush of the side curtains.

Infinity. Eternity. Whatever you want to call it. That's what dancing creates. That's what the magic is on stage.