My eyes narrow, trying to make sure I’m really seeing Aunt Vivienne and Madeleine in the third row. Vivienne is wearing a bright floral dress, her white bag placed neatly on her lap, while Madeleine is chic in all navy with a large gold pendant. I can’t believe they’re here! I didn’t tell them about the showcase; in fact, I didn’t even know what day it would be when I last saw them.
I search my memory, trying to figure it out. I told Mom I’d be performing today, but she didn’t sound too interested in the details. Come to think of it, Grandma Joan was at our house when I called. I don’t think I mentioned what time it was, but maybe she figured it out and asked them to come?
When it’s my turn, I run to center stage to take my starting position along with several other girls from level five. I risk a glance down toward Madeleine and Vivienne. Madeleine notices and gives me a small wave. She leans over to her mom, and then Vivienne is waving, too, so enthusiastically that a few people start to notice. It’s the kind of thing that would drive me nuts at home—as snobbish as it sounds, everyone should know that you do not distract a dancer when she’s about to take the stage—but coming from my elderly aunt, it makes me smile. She barely knows me, and yet she seems so excited to be here. The flutters in my stomach double. By the end of my performance, I want my great-great-aunt to know that I’m destined to become a professional ballet dancer.
I may not know much about her at all, but my great-great-great-grandmother, the infamous danseuse étoile, is behind my every step. Her destiny is mine, too, and carries me across the stage. Bourrée, waltz turn, piqué, arabesque…and on we go, across and around the stage, to the tune of “The Waltz of the Snowflakes” from The Nutcracker.
My feet float off the ground with great energy, and my movements come together almost effortlessly. Still, I wish Louis were here. It’s annoying to admit, but maybe I should have asked him to come. It’s not until we finish up that I realize that I’ve landed slightly in front of the other girls. We should be in one straight line, but I’m about half a foot forward. I shuffle backward, slowly and discreetly, as the room erupts in applause. Looking up to see all the delighted faces makes me forget everything else. We take a bow, and when we come up again, everyone in the audience is standing. I smile brightly as I catch my breath. Nothing is more rewarding than sending a room full of people into a frenzy of rapturous delight. I’m going to chase after this feeling performance after performance, for the rest of my life.
* * *
Vivienne and Madeleine are waiting for me in the main hall of the school.
“Ma Mia!” Vivienne says, cupping my face with her hands. She plants a wet kiss on each of my cheeks.
“Merci!” I say. Then I search my words for a moment and gather up every bit of French I know to say how touched I am that they came all this way. “Merci beaucoup d’être là! C’est tellement gentil d’être venues.”
Vivienne beams back at me, clearly impressed with my progress. I turn to Madeleine. “How did you know?” I ask in French, still giddy from the show.
“Louis called us,” Madeleine says slowly. Vivienne’s face lights up even more at the mention of Louis, and I’m pretty sure mine does, too.
“Louis?” I say, louder than I intended.
The hall is packed with students, instructors, and all the audience members. Everyone is chatting happily; only Audrey hangs back by herself nearby. I smile at her and give her a nod that I hope is saying, You were great. She shoots me a funny look back. I wonder if that’s because Vivienne and Madeleine are here—proof that I do spend time with my family. I don’t have time to think about it more because behind her, talking with Max, émilie, and Sasha—is Louis. He senses me looking and catches my eye, but only for a brief moment. “Thank you,” I mouth. He smiles discreetly, and then turns back to his friends. My heart skips a beat. I’d love to go ask him what he thought of my performance right now, but these secret encounters have a thrilling romantic flair about them.
Between Madeleine’s basic English and my broken French, I gather the rest of the story. A few days ago, Louis called Vivienne to thank her again for dinner. She told him she hoped I’d visit again, but Louis reminded her that I might not have time. He mentioned the showcase, and that I’d be so happy if they came to see me dance. Louis even went as far as picking up my two relatives from Gare de Lyon.
“Mom really likes Louis,” Madeleine says with a suggestive smile.