My holiday wish was to dance in the Nutcracker. I was eleven years old and a student of Charlotte Kingston Ballet School. My teacher, Mrs. Brooke, had told me that the director from the local ballet company was going to select several children from our class to perform minor roles in the holiday ballet. Everyone guessed that star students Cathleen Patterson and Ana White would be chosen. Some said other possible picks might be Isabella Hope, Abby Watkins and Tasha Shilling. But no one knew for sure. Inwardly I wanted it to be me, Maria Keller. The company was coming in four weeks to look at the class. So, I carefully practiced every day at home and twice a week at class. I also read stories about famous ballerinas. Every day I thought about Clara and her nutcracker. Every night I listened to music from the Nutcracker. It seemed like a blink of an eye before the day to audition arrived. * * * I carried my ballet slippers downstairs. I stopped to inhale the scent of baking sugar cookies and gingerbread that filled the house. I slipped on my coat and got in the family car. My mom drove me there. It took us fifteen minutes to reach the academy. “Good luck, sweetie!” Mom told me as she dropped me off. I smiled, but I was nervous. Inside the school everyone was warming up. I did the same. I ran out on stage. All I could think about was dancing A few minutes later, my friend, Tara Frost, came up to me. “This is going to be pretty exciting!” she said enthusiastically. I nodded. The company director came in and watched us dance. I danced the best I could. But, I could see the company had their eyes on other girls. Ana and Cathleen were asked to dance again by themselves. So were Tara and Tasha. Finally, it came time to announce who would dance in the Nutcracker. The company first announced who would get the parts of the children at the Christmas party in the first scene. Abby, Tara, Isabella and Tasha were chosen. Tara and I hit high fives when we heard this news. Next, Sara Linden, Marian Fisher, Penelope Smith and Christine Lu were selected to play little clowns in a scene in the Kingdom of Sweets. Then, the last roles were announced. Tara looked anxiously at me. I nervously glanced back at her. “Ana White, Josie Tillman, Bethany King, and Cathleen Paterson have been selected to dance as lambs in the dance of the flutes. Megan Patterson will be an understudy. All of these girls need to be at the Crossroads Ballet Studio at five PM on Monday. Thank you everyone,” said the company director. My heart sank; I would not be in the Nutcracker after all. My Christmas dream vanished. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” I mumbled to myself as I unlaced my ballet slippers. Tara came over to me. “Maria, you were an inch away from being picked. But, I think Isabella might have done a little better than you on some moves,” she said. I nodded. “Maybe next year,” she said hopefully. “Maybe next year,” I whispered. But I was doubtful. I got up to leave. I put on my coat. As I left I turned around to stare at the girls who were chosen. They were laughing and talking happily to each other. I will not be jealous of them, I promised myself as I left the building. Mom came and picked me up. I told her everything in the car as we drove home. “I’m sorry, Maria, I wish you would have gotten a role. I know how much you wanted one. But just keep on practicing and do not give up. You will get to dance in a ballet someday,” she said, trying to comfort me. That night at dinner, my fifteen-year-old sister Mallory suggested that, even though I was not going to be in the Nutcracker, I could go watch a few rehearsals just to see what they were like. I thought it was a good idea. Mom called Mrs. Brooke later that evening to see if it would be OK and she said yes. Dad agreed to drive me there. I was a little excited about seeing them, but I would have been more excited if I was going to be in them. That night, I lay in bed re-reading a book about Sara-Anne Medova. She was a famous ballerina who came from my hometown. The last chapter was called “Try, Try Again.” It talked about how Sara-Anne became famous. When I finished it I realized that I could get upset over not getting a role. If I tried again and again and did not give up, I would eventually get a part in a ballet. On Monday I sat in on the first rehearsal of the Nutcracker. All of the students from my class did well. But a young nineteen-year-old ballerina caught my eye. She was playing the part of Clara. She moved with such grace and elegance that you would think she was lighter than air. At the end of the rehearsal I approached her. “You dance beautifully,” I said. “Thank you,” she replied kindly. Then she asked, “Who are you, young lady?” “I am Maria Keller,” I replied. “I am Laurie Lewis,” she said. There was a pause, then she said, “I noticed that you did not dance with the rest of us.” “Yes, I just came to watch. Some girls from my ballet class were chosen to be in the Nutcracker, but I was not one of them,” I replied. “Oh, I see. The same thing happened to me when I was young. I was never chosen to dance in anything. But, I began to practice more and more and my dancing got better. A few months ago I auditioned for the Crossroads Ballet Company and was chosen. The director
November/December 2002
Treasure Box
Born in northern forests of Australia centuries ago And carved from yellow jarrah, My wooden treasure box Holds secrets of its own. Felled for ballast on sailing ships, It traveled over distant oceans And touched exotic shores, Seeking the spirit of Africa. Abandoned on the docks, The jarrah became railroad ties, Carrying steam engines Across the dry, Burned colors of a continent. Polished and alive again After four hundred years, The box captures within it The roar of a startled lion, The thundering hooves of wildebeest And the long, graceful loping of giraffes. Our secrets are treasured Together now With the shimmering heat of the plain, And warm a space for my own memories Still waiting to unfold. Mark Roberts, 11Windsor, California
Creamsicle
It’s dead. That was twelve-year-old Julian Horowitz’s first thought when he spotted the kitten in the white-blanketed woods when he was walking home from school. The kitten was vividly orange and bright white colored, reminding Julian of a Creamsicle ice cream bar. It (Julian didn’t know whether the kitten was male or female) was partially covered by a sheet of snow, and the kitten wasn’t moving, making Julian almost positive the kitten was dead. Julian slowly reached out his hand to the kitten’s fur. What he felt allayed him. The kitten was still breathing, although taking very shallow breaths. He peered closely at the kitten as he rhythmically petted its fur. He noticed that the kitten was female. She was definitely unconscious. “Don’t worry, kitty, you’ll be fine,” murmured Julian. He paused, trying to think of a name for the woebegone creature. “Yeah, don’t worry, Creamsicle, I’ll take care of you.” Julian scooped Creamsicle up and into his coat. Suddenly, Creamsicle shuddered, seeming to regain consciousness for a moment and causing Julian to nearly drop her in surprise. Fortunately, he didn’t, and he tucked Creamsicle tighter into his coat. He shivered himself. It was freezing outside. Even though he was layered in a T-shirt, a long-sleeved turtleneck, two thick sweaters, and a big, heavy winter coat, Julian could still feel the cold. He wondered how Creamsicle felt, with only a velvety covering of fur protecting her from the winter chill. Julian slowly reached out his hand to the kitten’s fur Julian and Creamsicle walked this way for about half an hour, or rather, Julian walked with Creamsicle inside his coat, until they reached Julian’s doorstep. Mrs. Horowitz, who had seen her son hunched over something while ambling slowly up the path to the house, threw open the door immediately. When she saw what Julian was holding, her face transformed to the color of milk. “Julian Horowitz, you drop that . . . that thing this instant!” she shrieked. “That thing is sick with something awful, just look at it closely!” It was true. Creamsicle was now shivering and throwing herself about violently. All of a sudden, the shivering stopped, and Creamsicle fell limply into Julian’s arms. Relief flowed over him as he, once again, noticed that the kitten was still breathing. He thought she regained consciousness for a second. Julian’s mother had obviously detected hints of emotion from her son, for she again began to speak. “Julian, don’t you dare get attached to that kitten,” she said, leaning over to have a look at Creamsicle before continuing. “She’s going to die soon, don’t pretend that you don’t know it, and the last thing I need is you weeping and moping because some stupid kitten that you befriended is dead.” “You’re wrong,” Julian whispered hoarsely. “She’s not going to die, She’s Not Going To Die, SHE’S NOT GOING TO DIE!” He, too, was shrieking, and he added, “Take her to the veterinarian, you’ll see that you’re wrong.” “Oh lord, Julian, how could you? You couldn’t have known this cat for more than an hour, and you are already purely in love with her!” Mrs. Horowitz began to mutter something about pet lovers in the family. “You know what, since you will not believe me, I will take this kitten, now, to the vet for you. If I can’t, maybe the vet can convince you that this animal will die.” Turning deaf ears to his mom, Julian carried Creamsicle into the family’s eight-year-old Toyota. Mrs. Horowitz followed him. Julian had never before been to the local veterinarian’s office because his family had never owned a pet. His mom seemed to hate all animals, his dad, though an animal lover like Julian, had never suggested the family get a pet, and Julian’s seventeen-year-old brother Justin didn’t care one way or the other. So it was a shock for Julian to see his mother zoom across town as if she knew the way to the local veterinarian’s office perfectly, as though she had been to the vet hundreds of times. He wondered when his mom had been to the vet, and why. Now that he wasn’t talking to his mom, Julian began to speak softly to the unconscious Creamsicle. Creamsicle looked terrible. She had taken on a glazed expression and looked almost frozen. Her breath was coming out in shallow gasps. Her body was not functioning properly. Julian, after looking at her, bit his lip and closed his eyes. A few minutes later, Mrs. Horowitz pulled to a stop next to the vet’s office. She, for some reason, looked worse than Julian felt. She was pale and looked like she was going to begin to cry. The receptionist led Julian, Mrs. Horowitz, and Creamsicle into the vet’s office ahead of the other people waiting. “Hello, Mrs. Horowitz,” said the veterinarian, whose name was Dr. Jakes. “I haven’t seen you in about fifteen years. How are Tiger and Buster?” Who the heck are Tiger and Buster? thought Julian questioningly, and how does this guy know who my mom is? “So, what brings you here today?” asked Dr. Jakes. “I found this kitten; she’s sick,” answered Julian shyly. Dr. Jakes picked up Creamsicle gingerly and looked at her carefully. After only a few minutes of poking and prodding, Dr. Jakes announced, “This kitten has hypothermia.” Julian didn’t hear a reaction from his mother, so he didn’t know if hypothermia was some terrible disease or not. So he asked, “What kind of disease is hypothermia?” “Well,” Dr. Jakes began to explain, “hypothermia isn’t really a disease. It’s what can happen to a warm-blooded animal if he or she is left out in freezing temperatures for too long without protection.” As he was saying this, Dr. Jakes placed Creamsicle in a blanket he had gotten from a cabinet, and put the kitten and the blanket down next to a radiator in the corner of the room, then spoke again. “Hypothermia can make your body stop functioning the
