SO-Lauren+B.


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Twirl __//** By: Lauren Bearrood Cold nipped at my hands, but I just kept running. I went up and down the outdoor stairs repeatedly. I felt far from numb. My whole body ached. I sat down on the stone fence of our garden. The chunky gray bricks were cold and refreshing. Sweat dripped off my forehead even though the weather was comparable to a refrigerator. My hands felt clammy as I worked my way around the house to the garage. It was almost painful to go inside and abandon such a beautiful night. I decided to jog two laps around the house before I went inside for the night. The more exercise, the better. Before I had even finished half a lap, I broke out in dance. My jazz dance was awesome and addictive. Dancing randomly was a bad habit of mine. One time in gym, our class was in the jump-rope unit and I abruptly started to do my ballet dance in front of everybody and I even added some difficult jump-rope tricks that I had never done before. I got an A+ for that unit. The last steps of my dance flew by smoothly. And way too quickly. I reluctantly strode toward the door. As I ate dinner, all I could think about was dancing. Twirling was my absolute favorite move of all time. Sometimes I dream of twirling in my basement for hours upon end. I have tried but my mother always retorted that I should do my homework and started a lecture about how school is more important than dance. I firmly disagree with that judgment.
 * * * * * 17 days later * * * * *

At last! It was my first competition of the year! It was my 12th competition including the competitions of the past decade. It took 2 hours and 27 minutes to reach Saint Paul, Minnesota. Cassie Wells and her mom rode with my mother and me in our polished, silver Volvo. We planned to share a room because separate suites could get really expensive.

Our small rectangular room was a slightly plain russet color with a cramped bathroom. But I didn’t care. All that mattered about this “girl’s weekend” was dance. That night rushed by in a blur.

I awoke the next morning to the faint sound of an alarm clock. I immediately remembered that today was the day of the competition. I sprang out of bed into the empty room and froze beside the aged dresser because of dizziness. Once I regained my balance, I flitted to our suitcase-which was next to a jumbled heap of used pajamas. I could hear everyone else in the bathroom. After finding my tan body-suit and stirrup tights, I threw my PJ’s on top of the lump of cloth and headed to the far corner of the room to change. By the time Jessica (Cassie’s mom) was through with her shower, I was dressed in my leotard, tights, and warm-up suit. I was forced to wait by the door for 39 more minutes. 17 of those minutes were spent running through both dances about 14 times in my head.

Inside the massive theater was a gigantic stage in the middle and dozens of dressing rooms on both sides. Our party spent around 30 minutes looking for the Eau Claire School of Dance dressing room. Cassie ended up changing in one of many bathrooms in the eerie basement. Gradually we worked our way up, down, across, and up again to find the correct dressing room.

Most of my day was spent watching my friends Cassie, Dani-Jo, and Alexis dance. Watching them only made the butterflies in my stomach multiply. I must have looked really nervous because my mom bought me a smoothie. Smoothies are a rare treat in my family. They are also known to calm me down. After I my mom bought the smoothie, I sat in a red, plush, velvet armchair and listened to Bella's Lullaby on my iPod touch. Dani-Jo found me still sitting in the chair 20 minutes later, about to fall asleep. She told me that it was almost time to go on. Her face was looked pale and frightened.

I was trembling much too hard to put on my ballet costume so my mom had to help me like I was a toddler. Our dance posse gathered together in a huddle and we reminded again and again to smile, have fun, and count the beats of the song.

My friends and I “carefully” rushed down the concrete steps and waited anxiously by the stage door. Once the group scheduled to go before us went on the stage, our dance team got to go near the curtains and stretch out. I closed my eyes and slowly breathed in and out, in and out. Suddenly, the announcer exclaimed, “Please welcome number 68, A River Flows through You.” That was us. I took a breath and walked onto the wide stage. I walked elegantly to my first formation and posed. Our song started and I was off. I loved to listen to the piano playing in our song. Soon after the dance had started, I glanced around and saw //everyone// gliding gracefully across the stage and smiling. They made it appear to be so easy. I hope I did too.

Perfect! Our whole group did the entire dance perfectly! I couldn’t stop talking after I got off the stage. Just that one dance boosted my confidence by about 110%.

We only had two dances to change so I rushed into my costume as quickly as I could without ripping it. I was literally bouncing off the walls. I couldn’t wait for jazz. I had really doubted that I could do my ballet dance flawlessly but I did! So I couldn’t wait to see what jazz brought! (The sugar from the smoothie wasn't helping.)

The jazz dance was going great, so I wanted to try to do a triple pirouette instead of a double. Just as I started my twirl, I glanced to my left and saw Dani-Jo walking toward me with her hand covering her mouth. She appeared to be precariously sick. I wanted to stop and comfort her like I usually would, but I forgot that I was supposed to spin! I tripped over my own feet and plummeted toward the floor.

I shrieked a piercing screech and grasped my ankle. The pain was excruciating. I opened my eyes and everyone was frozen stiff. Even the music had stopped. In a split second everything was in motion. A large crowd had gathered around me. They were debating whether or not to touch me without medical aid. The pain was disabling my hearing because I could only hear murmuring in the background. It sounded like they were on the phone with 911 from the few words I heard. As time passed I think I fell asleep from exhaustion. I could feel myself being laid onto a stretcher. I think. * * * * * 4 and a half hours later * * * * * The smell of smoothies drifted into the room. Hunger had taken control in my head. My mind was all foggy when I finally awoke because I was starving. Food. Food. Food.

I was almost blinded by the gleaming white room. I looked down and was startled by a heap of tubes and needles. I guess I was unconcious for a while.
 * * * * * 1 week later * * * * *

Today was my first day back at school. Kids occasionally commented about the tubby black cast I wore around my ankle. After the final bell rang, I hobbled upstairs on my crutches and eased into my dad’s car. We were noiseless as we drove to my dance studio. The only reason I was going to dance class was to apologize for ruining the jazz dance and to hear the judge’s comments about ballet.

Ballet was a perfect score. We all got Platinum trophies. Jazz was another story. We got only half the points, so we only got silver medals. After I apologized at least 16 times unnecessarily, I went home and worked on homework. I never wanted to twirl again. * * * * * 7 weeks later * * * * * When I got my cast off, I realized that I have learned many things in the past two months. But a couple of the most important lessons are that you can always mess up, even if you practiced 10 billion times. You also have to be flexible if you do mess up, and always try again. And finally, always build up your confidence again. No matter how hard it is.

P.S. Twirling is still my favorite move. 

**Questions for Peer Reviewers**
(Think in terms of questions you would like to ask the author.)

1. Think of plot—is it original? (If an adaptation, is it creative or interesting to you?) What suggestions do you have for the author(s)?

2. Think about problems that the characters face. Are there complications that add enough suspense, tension, or interest? Is there a climax that satisfies you? Is the resolution satisfying? What could be added or changed?

3. Think of characterization—are the characters life-like? Are characters likable and enjoyable? Do we get a good sense of character from many of these: description, dialogue, narrator's opinion, discussion from other characters, the character’s own actions?

4. Think of imagery and details. Do they help you //see// and //hear// and //experience// the story? What details would you like to see in the next revision of the story?

5. What areas of the story need the most improvement? What suggestions do you have for the author?