KIDS PAGE: A Chance to Dance

By MADISON LIBERMAN | Special to the Palisadian-Post

This story was originally printed in “Paul Revere 2017 Literary Anthology,” a collection of works created by Paul Revere Charter Middle School to highlight the work of nearly 400 student authors.

Iwalked up to the center wing on the right side of the Legacy Dance Competition stage and smoothed back my tight bun. I reached into my dance bag and fastened a gold star pin given to me by my grandmother to my leotard. The smell of hairspray and leather filled my senses as I glanced around at my competition.

Then I looked at her; I was staring at a young girl across the stage who looked very similar to me, although she had hair that looked like streams of honey in the blinding light, while mine was a dark chocolate brown. She had light-brown eyes that were now enhanced with more eye shadow, mascara, and eyeliner than any nine-year-old girl should be wearing. The girl was my little sister, Molly, and we were dancing our duet next.

I examined her costume: a sparkly white leotard, blue shorts with shiny gold buttons, a red sash, fishnet tights, tan jazz shoes, and a blue ribbon tied around her hair. I watched anxiously as the number before ours went, but when Molly caught my eye and gave me one of her goofy grins, I couldn’t help but smile back. The butterflies swarmed in my stomach as I waited for what seemed like forever for the loudspeaker to interrupt my anxious thoughts.

“Please welcome #367, Madison and Molly Liberman from Kick Start Dance Studio!” boomed the overly energetic voice over the microphone.

I strutted onto the stage, flashed my prize winning smile at the panel of four judges, and before I knew it the beat of the drum reached my ears.

The three minute performance felt more like ten seconds as it whiled by eight count after eight count. Elegant pirouettes flowed into sharp kicks, wrist flicks, and excruciating extensions that reached my ear. My favorite steps were jazz hands, the splits, daring lifts, and facial expressions that ranged from the happy clown to the hysterical toddler. I was having so much fun with our quirky musical theatre number, that even the judges’ piercing glares had a hint of joy in them. After immersing myself into our dance, people watching my every move didn’t bother me anymore. I was dancing on the clouds with the world at my feet, and an angel dancing beside me. As we did our last double pirouette into the final pose, I beamed with pride at what my sister and I had accomplished. I had been dancing since I was two years old, but I had gone to recitals and competitions since I was nine.

As I looked out into the sea of people, the blood, sweat, and tears of disappointment and joy flooded my memory. I looked back on the multiple hours in the studio when I practiced with my team and sister. I remembered leaving competitions with black streaks of mascara on my face when I didn’t place in the top ten. In that moment, I felt like the boulder of stress and pressure had been lifted off my chest. This was no longer just a dance competitions; it was my chance to dance. I clasped my sister’s hand in mine as we took our final bow and exited the stage as gracefully as our jittery bodies could manage. As we ran into the audience, I embraced Molly in a hug as warm as hot cocoa. After finally spotting them through the mob, I engaged in a hug with my parents.

“You guys rocked it out there!” my mom exclaimed with joy overflowing her deep-brown eyes.

“There are my two golden stars,” my dad said as he handed us each a bouquet of roses. They were almost too beautiful to be real, just like that day.