Gram Calls Me Ruth Part 3

Thank you again to my talented friend who's been writing this one for me. Let me share part 3 :)

Gram Calls Me Ruth Part 3

A sharp, clap cut through the din of talking women and girls. “Good afternoon, class,” said a womgan dressed in a black leotard and cream tights. She had the most wonderful French accent, much like Miss Clavel from the Cartoon Madeline.

There were a few responses to her greeting but nothing organized. The woman shook her head and mumbled, “No, no, no. this will not do.” She took a deep breath and explained, “I will always start class by saying, ‘Good afternoon, class’ and you will respond, ‘Good afternoon, Madam Monet’ as one. Let us give it a try, shall we? Good afternoon class.”

“Good afternoon, Madam Monet,” we responded but not as a group.

Madam Monet rubbed her temples and said again, “Good afternoon, class.”

We responded with the correct phrase but were still out of sync.

Madam Monet smiled. “Better,” she commented, “Good afternoon, class.”

We all looked at each other. I didn’t want to spend our entire first class just saying the same phrase over and over. I got an idea. I stepped out and held up my hand showing all five fingers. I then continued down as they do in the movies. On my closed fist, we all said in perfect unison “Good afternoon, Madam Monet.”

“Well done,” Madam Monet clapped softly, “Magnifique.”

Madam Monet gave me a wink. “Now my little beauties,” Madam Monet said motioning us all towards one wall, “line up s’il vous plait.

The wall itself was lined with mirrors and had a single bar, mounted about three feet off the floor. Madam Monet moved down looking at each girl in turn. She moved a couple of girls around and then started to space us out like a drill sergeant. When she was done the shortest girl was in the front the tallest girl was in the back and we were all about three feet apart along the wall.

The girl in front of me gave me a smile, “That was a great idea,” she said then reached out her hand to shake. “I’m Amber Eganhouse,” said the redheaded girl. She was about my size and looked to be my age. I shook her hand lightly and thought, please don’t let her see that I’m a boy.

“I’m Ruth Green,” I answered coyly.

Amber was about to say more but Madam Monet clapped again drawing our attention back to her. “I am Madam Monet, and I will be your instructor. I was a dancer for several years when I was…” She smiled and looked at all of us, “A little younger,” the other girls all giggled, so I did too, “But now I have the privilege of teaching all of you.”

Madam Monet walked up and down the row as she spoke. “I am very glad to be your teacher and even more excited to introduce you all to the ballet. We are all very different in our ages and body types,” Madam looked directly at me, “But I am sure you will all enjoy my class and come to love, the ballet, as much as I do.

“I only ask that you respect me and the class by being here on time, be honest,” she looked directly at me again, “and attentive,” she gave a couple of the younger girls a quick glance.

Does she know, I thought.

Madam Monet moved behind a bar that sat suspended between two stands in the middle of the floor. “I will walk you through our warmup today as it’s the first day,” She said in a stern voice, “However, going forward I will expect you to have the warmup completed and be ready to dance before class, next time. That way you have more time for learning. nest-ce pas? (Isn’t that so?)”

Everyone else was looking at each other not sure of how to answer. “Yes,” I said in only a slightly shaky voice, “that makes sense.”

Grandma sat and watched with the other parents as Madam Monet took us through what she called a warmup. The class seems to only last a short time but when I looked at the clock, it has been over an hour. “Well done ladies,” Madam Monet said as she wiped her brow with a towel. She then walked over and hands out a pink piece of paper to the onlookers.

When she was finished, she looks at all of us and said “I am proud of all of you. Please take care of yourselves tonight. I have handed out instructions to each of your guardians with some tips and stretches you can do over the next couple of days to get yourself ready for the next class.” Madam Monet then curtsied to us and said, “Dismissed.”

I walked over to Grandma and blurted out the question I had been wanting to ask her the entire class, “Did you see anything during class?”

“Yes. You were wonderful,” Grandma answered trying to encourage me.

“Right, but did you notice anything?” I hoped by rephrasing the question she would get my hidden meaning.

“Oh. Why yes, we could all see it,” said Grandma causing my heart to flutter. “I mean it was plain as day to the whole room,” my throat went dry. “Those two little girls up front are too young for this class,” Grandma went on, “they weren’t paying attention at all.”

“OK.” I said through gritted teeth, “But did anything stick out in your mind while Iwas dancing?”

Grandma leaned in close and answered in a conspiratorial tone, “Oh you mean your… No one could see that.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding.

“How did it feel?” Grandma asks, “Did the tape pull.”

“A little but not too much,” I described. “Maybe next class we can try just the gaffe.”

Grandma smiled and then asked in her normal voice, “How are you feeling otherwise?”

“Great.” Then I took a step and winced, “A little sore.”

Grandma began looking over the sheet Madam Monet had given her, “This sheet has some cooldown stretches you are supposed to do and I am supposed to make sure that you get plenty of fluids.” Always one to follow orders Grandma handed me a water bottle and continued, “Tomorrow, we need to go shopping for a few things.”

“Like what?” I asked taking a drink.

“Leotards, slippers…” Grandma answered but was then cut off by a voice calling from the other side of the room.

“See you next class, Ruth,” calls Amber as she and her mom went out the door of the studio.

The use of my name surprises me and I almost responded with my mouth still full of water. I swallow hard. “Ya,” I sputter, “next time.”

“New friend?” Grandma asked with a smile.

“I think so.” Then I look at Grandma who was looking at me with a stupid grin on her face. “What?” I ask.

“Your first friend,” Grandma beams.

“She is not,” I argue, “I have lots of friends.”

“Name one,” Gram asked and then added, “Online friends don’t count.”

I thought hard. Grandma looked very snug when I could not think of anyone. “None that you would know,” I tried to bluff but came off sounding whiny, even to myself.

“Now you have one I do know,” Grandma said getting up, “And what’s more, I know her grandmother too. Grace Eganhouses live just down the block from us.”

Everyone else had left by the time Grandma and I headed for the door. We were just about out to the door when Madam Monet blocked our path.

(The following conversation was originally had in French. I’m recounting it here in English for my readers)

“Are you fluent in French,” she asked.

Grandma answered, “Yes.”

I answered, “Passable.”

“Then let us speak in French so that others will be less likely to overhear us.” Madam Monet said with a sly smile. “At first, I was not sure if I should let you stay in this class. I don’t usually allow boys.”

“Whatever do you mean Madam Monet,” Grandma asked.

Madam Monet fixed her with a looked and Grandma fell silent. “We never meant to deceive anyone,” I confessed. “I just wanted to take this class and learn about ballet.”

“I can see that,” Madam Monet began to pace. “You know it will be more difficult for you.”

“I know,” I answered honestly.

“And I will not slow down or wait for you,” She warned continuing to pace.

“Nor should you.”

A war of indecision raged behind her eyes. “I see great potential in you my little flower,” Madam Monet said taking my chin in her hand. “As a dancer and as a leader.”

The silence was deafening. I swear I could hear both of our heartbeats. “Very well,” Madam Monet finally said, “You may stay.”

I couldn’t help it. I hugged her, “Oh, thank you, Madam Monet. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” said Madam Monet, grinning ruefully, “The Ballet is not for wimps