* * *
By the time our train stops at Bastille station, I’ve learned that Anouk is Dutch, from Amsterdam, while Lucy is from Manchester, in northern England. Anouk seems very focused and wants to get us to school ASAP—maybe because she’s been through all this before—while Lucy chats all the way, making amusing comments about Paris and giggling like we’ve known each other forever. I know I just met them, but I love these girls already.
As we exit the métro onto Bastille Square, I can’t help but pause and stare in awe. Paris is at my fingertips and it’s real, at last. I may have spent months looking at pictures of the city on Instagram, but it’s so different to actually see it in person. The Opéra Bastille is right in front of us, its ultramodern glass structure standing proud over its namesake roundabout, called Place de la Bastille. From my research, I know this impressive building is one of two operas in the city. The original, Opéra Garnier, is a luscious palace on the other side of Paris and has been host to centuries of ballet performances. That’s where Degas practically lived.
Traffic rushes by, cars honk, tourists stop to take photos. Trees line the sidewalk, their leaves the dark green of summer. I resist the urge to spin around with glee at finally being here as Anouk takes us down a quiet little street to our left. A few minutes later, our school comes into view. It’s a classical building made of beige stone with a roof covered in slate tiles, like you see all over Paris. Through the open windows I can hear a piano and the count of a teacher keeping time. “Un, deux, trois, quatre.”
There’s an inscription above the dark blue double door that reads L’Institut de l’Opéra de Paris.
“We’re the luckiest girls in the world,” Lucy says with a happy sigh as we climb the marble steps.
“Especially for those of us in level five,” Audrey adds.
I roll my eyes, but Lucy’s smile drops a bit. She opens her mouth to respond, but Anouk cuts in. “Level four is amazing, too…Pretty much no one gets level five their first year here.” Her voice lowers to a murmur and she adds, “or their second, for that matter,” like she’s speaking from experience.
Audrey doesn’t say anything back, but the corners of her mouth turn up in a satisfied smirk.
Inside, the hall is bustling with students lining up to file into the main auditorium. We’re just in time for orientation—phew. The four of us find seats as close to the front as possible. Glancing around, I’m struck by the wide range of teenagers attending the program: some tall and lean, others short and athletic; mostly girls, but also a few boys here and there. In the space of a few minutes, I think I hear at least three languages outside of French and English. It’s clear the school has brought the best talent from all over the world. A hush falls over the room as Myriam Ayed, the most famous danseuse étoile of the Paris Ballet, comes onto the stage. She’s known for her out-of-this-world talent, but she also made headlines when she was promoted, because she is the first dancer of African descent to become a principal dancer at the Paris Opera. As a mixed-race woman—she’s half-Moroccan, half-French—she was hailed as the change French ballet needed: a sign that classical dancing could modernize while staying true to tradition. She looks exactly the same as in all the pictures I’ve seen—muscular, with sharp features but warm eyes—and I feel oddly emotional just being in the same room as her.
“It’s my pleasure to welcome you,” Ms. Ayed says into the microphone, slowly looking around the room with a smile. She speaks in English—the official language of this summer program—but her thick French accent clings to every word.
“You’ve all worked so hard to be here today, and for that, you must congratulate yourselves.”
She claps her hands a few times, and the room fills with applause. “I was in your shoes not so long ago, and I know that just being selected means that you have what it takes to succeed. But your work has only just begun.”
As the applause dies down, Ms. Ayed continues, “I’m happy to announce that you will be dancing Swan Lake as your final performance. The respective ma?tres de ballet for each level will be assigning roles at the beginning of next week, and I will be cheering you all from the sidelines.”
My heart flutters. Swan Lake is my favorite ballet （So dramatic! So heart-wrenching! So technically challenging!）， but I’ve only ever performed as a page girl. I would do absolutely anything to dance as Odette, but featured and principal roles will for sure go to dancers in level five. Audrey will probably be one of them.