Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 061

"Devon!" Mme Dupre said. "Up front. I want you to demonstrate the five positions to the class." Now all eyes were on Devon. With his chin held up defiantly, he came to the front of the class. "First position," said Mme Dupre.

Devon put his feet together with his heels touching.

"No! No!" Madame said. "Toes out. Much further out." (In first position, the feet are completely turned out, like Charlie Chaplin's in his old movies.) Devon turned his feet out further. "Second position," Mme Dupre demanded.

Devon looked at her helplessly. He'd forgotten how to do that. "Feet apart," Madame snapped.

He pushed his feet apart, but lost the proper out-turned position. "No, not right," said Madame. "I suggest you get back in line and pay better attention." Casting her an angry glance, Devon returned to his place on line.

Mme Dupre then asked the entire class to go the barre. It was really crowded, but for plies it wasn't too bad. (No one was kicking anyone else, at least.) Madame instructed them to do plies in all five positions. These plies give your tendons and all the inside leg muscles a good workout. Kids are naturally very flexible. Still, they were in positions that were strange to them. There was a lot of toppling into one another as they lost their balance. This sometimes had a domino effect as one kid knocked over the next, who knocked over the next, who knocked over the kid beside her.

We volunteers worked hard, pushing feet into the right position and encouraging the students to bend lower, to keep their chins up, and to straighten their postures. Nora and Jane tried to get away with their little old lady plies but Madame came along and gently, but firmly, put her hands on their shoulders and pushed down.

One thing I noticed was that the girl named Martha was doing everything perfectly. Even her arm was stretched out gracefully. "Nice work," Darcy told her. In response, Martha just looked down at her feet, almost as if she'd been scolded.

Raul gave Devon some extra attention, but he seemed determined not to cooperate. The minute Raul walked away, Devon would tug on the long black braid of a girl named Cherisse who stood in front of him. "Hey!" she would cry as she whirled around. Devon would smile angelically and look up to the ceiling. But, as soon as she turned back, he'd tug the braid again.

After a few minutes, Mme Dupre spotted this. "Devon," she said. "I want you to sit over there by the door." "I wasn't doing anything," he protested.

"By the door. Now," she said calmly.

Devon did as Madame said, making a face at her when she turned back to the class. The class giggled. I'm pretty sure Mme Dupre knew what he'd done, but she didn't turn around. "Continue, class," she said.

Devon slid sullenly to the floor by the door and watched the class, his arms crossed, his body slumped against the wall. I expected Madame to call him back after a few minutes, but she didn't. She seemed to forget about him altogether as she worked with the class on demi plies in fifth position. ("Demi" means half in French. In fifth position, your feet are so close together you can't bend as much as in the - other positions.) As Vince had said, plump little Yvonne bounced through all the plies. Mme Dupre smiled as she held her shoulders and guided her up and down more slowly. "The bounce is fine, but it must be controlled," she told Yvonne kindly.

I was busy working with a boy named Alphonse when I saw Mary stop and push her bangs back off her forehead. She was flushed and sweaty. She bent forward, resting her hands against her knees.

61' I left Alphonse and went to her. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"I feel weak. I think I'm getting a virus or something," she answered in a shaky voice.

Mme Dupre joined us. "She feels sick," I told her.

Mary straightened up and stepped back unsteadily. "Could I go home?" she asked Madame.

"Of course," Mme Dupre replied. "Can someone come get you?" "I'll call my mother," said Mary.

"All right," Madame agreed. "Jessi, stay with her until her mother comes." I walked Mary to the dressing room. "Do you have a fever?" I asked. .

"I don't think so," she said, opening her dance bag. She dressed slowly and had to stop a couple of times to rest. During one of those times she sat there in her underwear holding her head in her hands. I couldn't help but notice that she was even thinner than I had remembered. I could see the outline of her bottom rib clearly.

"Would it help to eat something?" I asked. "I have a bag of potato chips with me." Mary looked up at me. I was sure she was about to say yes, but instead she shook her head. "I'm not really hungry," she said.

I called Mary's mother for her while she finished dressing. Then I waited out in the lobby with her until Mrs. Bramstedt arrived.

When I returned to the practice studio, Sue was demonstrating a simple pas de chat, while Mr. Tsuji played a lively piece. (I knew that piece. It was the "Dance of the Cats," from Act III of Sleeping Beauty, in case you're interested.) Devon was still in his spot by the door, but the pas de chat had caught his interest. He was no longer slumped. Now he sat forward attentively, as if he were trying to memorize the movements.

Mme Dupre let every kid take a turn trying it. Once again, this was like something out of America's Funniest Home Videos. But, no matter how incorrect they were, most of the kids threw themselves into the exercise. Yvonne, the bouncer, jumped very high off the ground. And Martha almost got the step right. She had natural talent.

I glanced at Devon. He was watching with his head in his hands. I could tell he was dying to try the exercise.

Nora and Jane had kept moving to the back of the line, until they were the last two left. Then they shuffled through the steps, red with embarrassment.

As Jane was finishing up, Madame approached Devon. "Devon, if you can't behave next week, I will have to ask you not to come back to class anymore," she said in a gentle voice.

Devon's dark eyes grew wide. His jaw dropped but he didn't say anything.

"I can't allow you to distract the rest of the students," Mme Dupre explained. "So, you think about what you'd like to do." With that, Madame walked back to the rest of the class. Devon looked up at me. "Can she do that?" he asked me skeptically.

I nodded. "This isn't like regular school. They can ask you to leave." "Yeah, well, who cares," Devon muttered, getting to his feet. "This is dumb, anyway." By then parents were gathering at the door. The pas de chat had left the kids charged with enthusiasm. They ran to their parents, excitedly telling them what they'd done. All but Devon. With his hands jammed in his pockets, he joined a broad-shouldered, dark-haired man in a brown construction jacket. The man put his hand gently around the back of his son's neck and they walked out silently together.

I saw Martha take the hand of a tall, lovely woman with very dark skin. The woman gazed into the practice room. There seemed to be a million questions in her curious eyes. When she noticed me, her brow furrowed. She looked surprised to see me there. For a moment, our eyes met, then she turned and left. I wondered what she was thinking.

Soon all the kids were gone. "Thank you for your help," Mme Dupre said to us with a smile. "And thank you, too, Mr. Tsuji." The man smiled and gave Madame a small nod as he collected his music sheets.

"Did Mary's mother come?" Mme Dupre asked me.

"Yes, she did," I said.

"Very good. If you will excuse me, I must rush to another appointment," Madame said, gathering up her dance bag.

"What was wrong with Mary?" Raul asked me.

"She didn't look well at all," Vince added.

"She thought she was getting the flu or something," I said. (I'd have to remember to tell Mary that Raul had asked about her.) "I hope it's not contagious," said Darcy.