Chapter 2 Ms Stonewall

• Ms. Stonewall’s dance studio was located on top of Berkley’s Bakery. And why was that relevant?
• Because she had once told us that she wants to see how well we fair against the sweet temptation lurking around the corner and still come out victorious.
• It was a test to see who amongst us would get into the elite dance team. As a result, she had lost half of her initial class strength to the bakery while the other half struggled to sneak behind Ms. Stonewall’s back to grab a bite of the tempting desserts on display in front of the store. In the end, only three of us had been left standing after she had finished her little test.
• Rika because she had diabetes and couldn’t have sweets; Pamela because she hated sweets and adored spicy food. And then there was me. I didn’t have any other excuses to resist temptation other than the fact that I had wanted to be on her elite team desperately.
• From a very young age, dancing hadn’t just been my passion, it had been my obsession. It had also been an escape from reality, because dancing was the one thing my brother couldn’t do and I didn’t have to walk in his shadows just this once in my life.
• It had been hard to resist temptation, but once I had gotten it into my head that this was my one chance to outshine my ‘perfect’ elder brother…nothing had been impossible.
• Today, I waved ‘hi’ to Mrs. Berkley through the open door of the bakery, where the scent of freshly baked cinnamon rolls waffled out to tingle my nostril, and thankfully, she waved back. The smile that spread across her chubby cheeks a clear sign of delight at having me back.
• Mrs. Berkley was one of the few people in town who had been on my side when I’d made an escape and she was also best friends with Ms. Stonewall. After I’d greeted her, I went in through the side where the entrance to the dance school was located, and climbed up the winding stairs to the first floor where Ms. Stonewall made her dance studio.
• As expected, the doors were unlocked this time of the day, the morning session just having concluded. When I looked in through the glass doors, I found Ms. Stonewall hard at work with her broom, cleaning the studio as she often did after each session.
• But it also wasn't surprising to see her swaying lightly to the tune playing on the radio as she cleaned her classroom. Even though she was fifty one years old, no one could match her grace as she moved in-tune with the music.
• The moves were soft, nothing complicated or out of the ordinary, but even the basics looked wonderful when she was the one dancing. It was why I had wanted desperately to join her dance studio. I’d been mesmerised by her grace ever since I saw her perform at our school’s annual cultural festival.
• I turned the knob and entered the room without knocking and instantly, Ms. Stonewall’s attention snapped towards me. She was a tall woman of about five feet eight inches, only an inch shorter than me, and her hair was cut short to just above her chin. There were several grey strands in her dark brown locks but by no means could someone call her old. She looked as stunning as any ballerina would in her prime.
• “Oh! You’re here early.” Ms. Stonewall said as she wiped a bread of sweat off of her chin. She then put her broom down and went to turn off the radio.
• “I was just…terribly nervous.” I shrugged with my hands tucked inside the pockets of my jeans.
• “Usually when people are nervous, they either turn up late or don’t show up at all.” She said as she came over to me to engulf me in her embrace.
• “Hey! No shading!” I told her, hugging her back as I remembered how I had almost skipped my first dance competition when I was in third grade. Ms. Stonewall had to drag me out of the janitor’s closet and use all kinds of threats to get me on stage. When nothing else seemed to work, she had promised to teach me one dance that she had never taught anyone before.
• That promise had worked wonders and I had immediately rushed to the stage without looking back. And thus had started my gruesome training to learn a dance that was not just difficult but meant for students twice my age.
• But I hadn’t given up until I had learned the entire dance routine by heart.
• “I’m not shading,” she smiled when we pulled back. “Just pointing out facts.”
• “So...” I raised my eyebrows expectantly.
• “I watched your London performance.” Ms. Stonewall took my hand and led me to a corner where a couple of stools were ready to be seated on. “In fact, I watched all your performances all over Britain. They were marvellous. I’m so very proud to call you my student.”
• “Thank you, Lydia.” I told her sincerely. “But all of them? Didn’t it get repetitive?”
• “Of course not!” She waved her hand in front of her face in dismissal. “I love Swan Lake and I loved the contemporary twist they added in with the other dancers. Oh, and before I forget, congratulations on getting engaged.”
• “You already congratulated me over the phone,” I told her laughing. “But thank you, it means a lot coming from you.”
• I’d always felt at peace whenever I spoke with Lydia. She had this calming, motherly vive to her that had always drawn me in. Today, when I’d stood in front of the door that my mother had slammed in my face, I had simply been shocked, not heartbroken.
• I get that Gabby wants me to make peace with my past before we start our future together, but I feel that deep down, I always knew that I never truly belonged in this place or in the posh Wilder household. As if they were never truly mine.
• “So,” Lydia began. “Tell me more about your Gabby. I saw her perform with you and I must say I’m quiet intrigued.”
• “Gabby is the best thing that could’ve ever happened to me.” I told her truthfully, not missing out on the opportunity to gush about my beautiful fiancé. “I met her right after I joined the academy. She literally had rainbows in her hair.”
• “Now I want to know all about it!” Lydia clapped her hands together in anticipation. “Tell me more! I never quite got the whole story.”
• So I told her the whole story.
• “At New York Dance Academy, we are given two classes, ballet and contemporary. Gabby, Gabriella Gilbert, was the contemporary protégée while I was the ballet expert. We were literally from two different sides of the world, and I’m not saying it geographically but personality wise. She was this outgoing, fun, lively kinda girl that just grabbed everyone’s attention while I was the scared little introvert who shied away from everyone else, too scared to make new friends and prove to be a disappointment to everyone.
• “We didn’t really get along at first though. I thought she was too loud and outspoken and she thought I was snobbish and the high-n-mighty kind. We clashed all the time, arguing and bantering about mindless things. That’s why the teachers decided to throw us together and make us a team. She thought we had passion and the tension between us could grab everyone’s attention. I had to teach her ballet for a performance during our annual exams and she had to improve my contemporary, that was the deal.
• “It was the most difficult year of my life. And I’m not just talking in terms of dancing; that was the fun part. But I was having trouble getting a hold of my feelings.” I told Lydia truthfully. “You know my parents; you know how conservative they are. I’d grown up with the notion that girls could only like boys and vice versa. Even though I felt out of place during high school, I just had to keep my mouth shut and endure it. Gabby made me feel things that I thought were unnatural. I was so scared and confused, until one day…Gabby just went ahead and kissed me. Nothing had ever felt so right before. It was like...I finally realized something about myself...like something just fell into place.”
• Lydia took my hand in hers and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “You have the right to love anyone you want, Kyra. I know you’ve already discovered that by yourself, but I just wish you could’ve told me this before...when you were alone and trying to sort your feelings. And I’m so happy that you’ve found the woman of your dreams who will share not just the rest of their life with you but also your passion for dancing. It’s very difficult to find someone like that.”
• “Thank you, Lydia.” I told her, my eyes blurry with tears. “I needed to hear that.”
• Even though those years were well behind me, those struggles had been long overcome…it felt nice to know that I was loved and there were still people in this world that had my back.
• “Kyra!!”
• Two voices sounded right then as the door to Lydia’s studio burst open to reveal two familiar faces.