In the locker room I hear
Why Jane is so upset.
Simone always spews gossip
While she pins up her hair.
At Thanksgiving Rem told Jane
There was another girl.
My heart stops,
Wondering
If the girl
Is me.
Simone knows all the crushes
And even I cannot miss
Her incessant queries
About Julio.
Last week, she stood beside me, watching
My face as much as
Rem dancing
In the small studio.
I am light with hope
At the brushup rehearsal for “Goldilocks.”
I try to feel a difference
In Rem’s palm
As it guides my elbow.
He escorts me, waddling
To our mock breakfast table
Where we pretend to be disgusted
By overheated porridge.
His brown eyes twinkle.
They always do.
He pushes his straight bangs
Off to the side,
Smiles a silly Papa Bear smile
That makes me want to dive into his giant arms.
He is too tall to be a star dancer
But so expressive, smart.
Rem occupies a curious space
Between student and teacher.
A man, yet, as a choreographer,
Something of a prodigy.
Are we alike
In that in-betweenness?
Can he see,
When I smile my blue eyes back
At his brown ones,
The country-city-woman-girl
Dancer, student
Bewildered
Unbelonging
Yearning?
Do I dare ask him about
Catcher in the Rye
Daisy Miller
The Great Gatsby
?
Do I dare ask him for what I want,
As if I knew it,
Could find it on some page
In some chapter
In some book?
Rem and I lean against the barre
While Lisette does her “Goldilocks” solo.
She piqués, relevés, and the music follows her,
Playing a game of follow-the-leader
As if they could take turns
As if the music sees her step and twirl
As if she knows every tune before
It leaves the piano keys.
It would be easier
If I could hate her.
Perhaps I should,
As I watch through the glass
Where she practices
Alone
Before and after
The teacher and the rest of us
Fill the room
With our lesserness.
Is she trying
To make it hard
For all us others
To scurry in the shadow
Of her dedication?
Yet there is sweetness
Behind those driven eyes.
Ballet
Is her one and only
Uncomplicated lover,
Best friend.
We begin the bears’ feature.
Remington’s fingertips
Trace the stiff ridges of my forearms,
Meet my palms.
Simone, the Baby Bear,
Ducks beneath the bridge
Of our joined hands.
Can she see my hair stand on end?
Does everyone notice my fleeting glances toward the
window
Where I am always checking for Jane?
Rem is like chocolate,
Making me feel hungry and guilty
Always and at the same time.
Would it help if I told him
I am all of sixteen?
Though I try not to mention this
At the studio.
Sixteen is
Wanting.
Battered toes, aching shins.
Hope for the growing strength of my arches.
Curious despair at the curve of my breasts.
Sour not sweet.
They hand out the paperwork
After rehearsal.
The fall tour will finish with a three-day trip
To schools in northern Jersey
And a stop for a dance class
In New York City.
After that
Our lives are in the clutches of
The Nutcracker
,
The bread-and-butter of the ballet economy,
The chance for us students
To dance with the company
On a giant stage.
I read the trip itinerary,
Pushing beans and shreds of meat
Around the jade-green dinner plate.
Julio taps my shoulder.
“Want to play cards?”
Our tentative friendship has begun to grow,
Maybe because my lust for Rem
Has made it easier to be in the house
With this other boy.
I show him the paperwork, the permission slip.
“Who should sign this?”
“Is Rem going?”
He asks right away.
My eyes shoot down to the ace of spades.
He laughs. “Simone has a big mouth.”
“Does that make her a good kisser?”
I am surprised at my boldness.
Julio’s ears turn red.
He laughs but
Tosses the deck of cards
A little too roughly my way.
“Nosy!”
“You started it!”
I won’t tell him
About Papa Bear.
“Just give the form to my dad.
He’ll sign it.”
Like a million times before,
I realize how free I have become
Since being dropped off
At Señor Medrano’s doorstep.
The first school on the tour is a dump
With a floor like cinder blocks.
Every step hurts my shins.
After the performance-opening demonstration
Of ballet barre exercises,
I rush back to the dressing room
To change into Mama Bear.
Peel off my leotard.
As I turn to look for some Tiger Balm
To relieve the ache of my legs,
I see Rem staring
At my topless body
Through the gap in the makeshift dressing-room curtain.
And I hesitate
Before I wrap my arms around my chest.
Afterwards, riding the bus to the motel,
Rem guides me to the last row.
Concealed by the seat back
He draws me close,
Reminds my lips
Of his kisses,
Does things that make my tights damp between the legs.