Ann Martin - Mary Anne's Book

"Indeed," answered Madame Minoff. "Our dance will be to the Dance of the Sugar Plum

Fairy." She smiled at Charlene. "Charlene will be the Sugar Plum Fairy." Charlene made a little curtsy and we all clapped.

Madame Minoff passed around photos of the recital from the year before, when-her class also performed the dance. Everyone but' me ooh-ed and aah-ed. The dancers were wearing pink tutus and sparkling sequined tiaras. The Sugar - Plum Fairy wore a white silky skirt, a larger and fancier tiara, and toe shoes. My heart pounded in my chest and my hands became clammy as I looked at those photos. The Sugar Plum Fairy and her dancers were on the huge stage at the Y and the seats of the auditorium were filled with spectators.

I would have to go on a stage and dance in front of a crowd of mostly strangers! How could I dance in front of a whole auditorium of people if I was so painfully frightened dancing in front of my classmates and teacher? I had sweaty palms just thinking about the recital. Surely I would die. My eyes filled with tears. But no one noticed, not even Claudia or Kristy. Everyone else was too excited about being in the recital and wearing tutus.

I woke up to the music from The Nutcracker. I opened my eyes. My father - a big grin across his face - was standing over me humming the melody from the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. "Wake up, little Sugar Plum," he said. "I'll be in the kitchen making your breakfast. Two hours until showtime."

My heart sank. The day I'd dreaded had arrived.

I went down to the kitchen where the smell of ham and french toast greeted me. "I made you an-extra special breakfast," my father said. "You have a big morning ahead of you."

I didn't have the heart to tell my dad that I didn't want breakfast. So I ate what he placed in front of me.

"Remind me to stop at the video store on the way to the Y," he said. "I need a blank tape. I'm going to videotape your part of the

recital. I want to have a permanent record of your first dance performance."

"I forgot to tell you," I said. "Madame Mm-off said no videotaping. Someone from the Y is going to make a videotape of us dancing. You can buy it for ten dollars." I was practically choking on the words. Not only would people be watching me onstage, but they'd be watching me over and over on their TV screens, too.

"What a good idea," my dad said. He looked at me carefully. "Your voice sounded funny just then. Are you coming down with a cold?"

I didn't tell him I was choking from fear. But I did consider saying, "Yes, I have a cold and I'd better stay home from the recital." But I stopped myself. I thought of how disappointed my dad would be if I wasn't in the recital. And how disappointed I would be in myself if I didn't overcome my fear. I took a sip of juice to clear my throat and said, "I don't think I have a cold."

"That's good," he said with a sigh of relief. "I'd hate to have you miss the recital. Do you want another piece of french toast?"

My stomach was gurgling over the two pieces I'd already eaten. "No," I managed to say. "I'm full."

My stomach gurgled again. I needed to get

away from the breakfast smells - quickly. "I better get dressed," I told my dad. And I ran up to my room.

I pulled on my pink tights and a new pink leotard. The rest of our costumes - silver-sequined tiaras and pink tutus polka-dotted with silver sequins - belonged to the Y and would be lent to us for the performance. -

Madame Minoff told us to be in the studio forty-five minutes before the recital so we'd have plenty of time to put on the rest of our costumes and warm up. As we pulled into the parking spot at the Y my father said, "You're pretty quiet today, honey. Is anything wrong?"

"I'm nervous," I admitted.

He smiled. "That's normal. Even the biggest stars are nervous before a performance. They say it gives them energy to go out there and do a great job."

"Oh," I said.

We entered the Y through the main entrance. The halls were bustling with kids and adults. It seemed that everyone but me was looking forward to the recital. My father walked me to the studio.

"I'll go right to the auditorium," he said. "I want to have a good seat." He bent over and kissed me on the forehead. "I can't wait to see you onstage. I'm very proud of you."

In the studio Charlene was helping excited dancers into their tutus an-d tiaras. Claudia and Kristy were already wearing theirs. They ran over to me. Claudia glowed with excitement as she pas de bourrée'd and curtsied in front of me. Kristy seemed excited about wearing a costume and performing onstage, too. "But I still would rather play sports than be a dancer," she said.

Claudia and Kristy each took one of my hands and led me over to Charlene. It was time to put on the rest of my costume.

A few minutes later I stood at the mirror waiting to do warm-up exercises. I looked at my reflection. The tutu and tiara transformed the outside of me into a fairy princess. But the inside of me was a mass of nerves. My stomach was upset. My heart was pounding. My palms were sweaty. I was so terrified at the idea of performing onstage that I felt as if I might throw up any minute.

On the third plié, I let go of the barre and dashed out of the room.

I arrived at the toilet bowl without a second to spare. By the time I'd finished throwing up Charlene and Kristy were in the bathroom, too.

I came out of the stall feeling weak and dizzy. I leaned against the sink.

"Are you all right?" asked Charlene.

"Mary Anne, what happened?" asked Kristy.

"I threw up," I whispered hoarsely.

"It's nerves," said Charlene. "It happened to me once, but you know what?"

"What?" I asked.

"I still went onstage and danced great. How do you feel now?"

"Okay," I replied, even though I didn't.

"Well, let's go back to the studio. You can sit out the rest of the warm-up. I bet you'll feel just fine when you're on that stage."

I wondered what would happen if I had to throw up on the stage in the middle of the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. At the thought of that, I dashed back into the stall and threw up a little bit more.

When I came out, Kristy wasn't there. I figured she'd returned to the studio so she wouldn't miss too much of the warm-up. But when I went back to the studio myself, she wasn't in the lineup of tutu'd dancers doing grand battements.

Madame Minoff glanced my way. I gave her a weak smile and sat in the corner. She smiled back her approval.

A minute later Kristy entered the studio, followed by my father. He motioned me to come out into the hall with him. So I did.

He took my hand and squatted so he'd be

my height. "Kristy tells me you were sick, honey," he said. "What's going on?"

"I'm just nervous," I answered. "It happened to Charlene once."

"I told you that performers are often nervous before a performance," he said. "They're nervous because they're excited. Is that why you're nervous, because you're excited about being in a recital?"

I shook my head. "I'm nervous because I

don't want to be in the recital. I don't like to dance in front of people, even -my friends. It makes me feel too scared."

He looked upset by that idea, too. "I didn't know that."

"But I can do it, Dad," I said. "I'll be in the recital."

"If you don't want to, maybe you shouldn't," my father said. "Why should you put yourself through this?"

"I have to. It's part of ballet class. Kristy and Claudia are doing it."

"That doesn't mean you have to be in the recital."

"You want me to be in it. You said so yourself. It would make you sad if I wasn't in the recital."

"Whoa," my father said. "Hold on, there. How can I be happy about something that makes you unhappy? I'd never want my little

girl to do something that makes her so frightened she becomes sick over it. You don't have to be in the recital, Mary Anne. What do you want for yourself? Right now?"