I Hope You Dance

If there was one thing everyone knew about the beautiful, well-behaved, shy eight year old Ella, it was that she loved to dance. She could hit every leap, twirl, point, line, and spin that was thrown her way. It was safe to say it was because of the close relationship she had with her teacher and choreographer that pushed her to be her best every day she stepped into rehearsal.

But the past month hasn’t been so easy because Miss Marcia was no longer her teacher. It made her extremely sad, but not as sad and miserable as the new one --Miss Lila-- made her. She made her question how much she truly did love to dance and not to mention, how to be a little kid. Today was going no differently and Ella didn’t know when she would finally snap.

“Your foot is sickled, turn it and invert it! Come on girl, you know this. It’s kindergarten knowledge!” Miss Lila yelled, never bothering to call Ella by her name.

Miss Lila was sitting on a pile of mats, yelling over the music while Ella and four other girls danced the piece of choreography they had been practicing over and over again for a week straight.

“Higher… Higher, Addison! Elbows straight on the turn out, girls. Straighter, girl!” Her brow furrowed and she took a deep breath, turning to her assistant. “Stop the music, stop the music!”

The instrumental music faded and Ella stopped dancing, out of breath and the bun that was once placed neatly on her head, was coming undone. She blinked, watching her dance instructor stand up and walk towards them. With her hands on her hips, she couldn’t ignore the huge part of her that felt incredibly nervous.

Miss Lila stepped closer, giving all of the girls a run down with her boiling eyes. “What was that? Can any of you explain that to me, because I’d sure like to hear it.”

Ella positioned her brown eyes to the floor, hoping one of the other girls would answer.

“I’ll tell you. It was a mess. An absolute mess.” She stated harshly. “I mean, you girls do know the recital is this weekend right? Or maybe I’m going insane and it’s all in my head?”

When Ella finally looked up at her, she didn’t know if she was supposed to answer her or not. Ella wasn’t stupid, she knew her dance instructor wasn’t pleased with their performance and now she was going to name all the reasons why she hated it. That’s all she did for the past month. Complain, nag, and then complain some more. Some days, all Ella wanted to do was cry, mostly because she was so angry with herself. That it was her fault Miss Lila was never pleased with anything.

“Chloe, why are you crying?” Lila asked, but to Ella it came off quite rude. She knew her and she knew she would only cry harder when she was asked what was wrong. Chloe was the baby of the group, but she was also her friend and teammate.

“She’s sad because… because she didn’t dance as good as yesterday.” Ella spoke up timidly, trying her best to stand up for Chloe.

Lila said something under her breath, trying to contain herself. “Don’t stick up for her, understand? Do not stand up for her until you are a better dancer than her. With your sickled feet lately, you shouldn’t be saying a word to me.”

Ella felt the sting behind her eyes, but she blinked them away. “Sorry.”

“That’s another word!” Lila threw her arms up. “I want to see you do the routine by yourself and girls, you’re all going to tell me one thing she does wrong, got it?”

All of the girls nodded and Ella felt like this was all extremely unfair, but she did it anyway. As soon as that music started, she picked herself up and danced. She could feel the judging eyes on her and the room burning hot, but she continued dancing. She knew she messed up on a step sequence. She felt herself stumble on a spin, but she smiled through it. When the music ended and she held the final pose, she thought for a second that everything might be okay. That Miss Lila might be proud of her.

Without a word to Ella, Lila turns to her other students and asks, “So?”

Then Ella feels that sting again, before her arms slowly fade down to her sides.

“I thought she could have pointed her feet more.” Chloe hesitantly said, not bothering to look up. Ella frowned.

“Her last spin was off.”

“Her russian could have been higher.”

“She messed up the steps.”

One by one she listened to her teammates list the many things she did wrong and she couldn’t help but question why any of them would actually say mean things to her. Why they were her friends. Why her instructor always seemed to pick on her more than the others. Why one minute she was the favorite and the next she was dirt.

She was only eight and it broke her heart.

Miss Lila finally spoke after keeping quiet. “Do it again.”

****

When Harry came to pick Ella up from dance that day, he immediately knew something was off. She didn’t leap into his arms to give an excited hug. She didn’t say hi to her little sisters and she didn’t beg to go out for ice cream. She walked right past him, with a three year old Grace on his hip and a six year old Brooke holding onto his hand.

“How was dance today? Is your new instructor finally warming up to you?” Harry asked, following behind Ella as she led them all to the parking lot.

“Mhmm,” she mumbled, spotting the familiar black, Range Rover.

“Oh, really? Then why are you so upset, El?” He tried, unlocking the doors and placing Grace in her car seat, while Brooke hopped onto her booster seat.

“I’m not. Just tired, I think.”

Harry looked at her hesitantly, trying to scan her for any sort of lies. Her face was flushed and her eyes were a little drooped, but she gave him no reason to think otherwise. He thought she looked exhausted and he’d never seen his daughter look so lifeless. It scared him a little.

“You do look like you could use a bath and a long nap. We can rent a movie if you want.”

“Yeah!” Brooke shouted, kicking her feet.

“No, I’m okay.” Ella smiled, trying to mean it.

“Okay, just let me know if you change your mind.” Harry assured, ignoring Brooke as she ranted about all the movies she’s ever seen.

***

“Mmm, it smells delicious in here.” Hanna sighed in delight as she entered the kitchen, a freshly awakened Grace on her hip. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” She said with a laugh and Harry smirked over his shoulder, placing a peck to his wife’s lips, then one on top of Grace’s bed head. She giggled, reaching forward for Harry’s spatula, but he was quick to grab her little fingers.

“That’s hot and dirty, darling. No cooking for you just yet.” He lectured, flipping a grilled cheese over on the stove, picking up a spoon to stir the soup.

“Daddy, can you cut the crust off?” Brooke called from her spot at the kitchen table where she was currently coloring outside the lines of her barbie coloring book. “I hate crust.”

“B, big girls eat their crust.” Hanna stated.

“Soooo?” Brooke rolled her eyes. “I’m still a baby.”

Harry laughed at that, “You’re six and you’re a big sister. Grace is the baby.”

Brooke was very unimpressed as Hanna pulled out the chair next to her, setting Grace on her booster seat and handing her a sippy cup. “Grace picks her nose.”

Grace immediately stopped chugging her water. “Stoooop,” she whined. She was the cry baby in the family, but being the youngest and having two older sisters constantly doing things she couldn’t, she was sort of allowed to be upset. Especially with Brooke always picking on her.

Brooke laughed, hunching forward to get closer to her sister. “Nose picker!”

“I’m not. Stop!” She whined again, this time starting up a fake cry.

“Brooke, be nice or I won’t cut the crust off.”

She huffed, but it was a good enough compromise for her. As far as she was concerned, crust was the end of the world.

***

Harry thumped three knocks on his eldest daughter’s door, but when she didn’t reply, he twisted the knob slowly and pushed open the door slightly. Through the crack he witnessed her sitting cross legged on the floor in front of the t.v. On the screen was Ella’s ballet recital from last spring where she floated across the stage in a beautiful purple and blue dress. Harry could never express how proud he was of her for doing what she loved at such a young age and being so incredibly gorgeous doing so.

As he took a casual step in, he heard the sound that was like a stab in the heart every time he heard it. The sound of one of his babies crying never got any easier. Harry could tell she was trying to be quiet about it and keep it to herself like she always did. He tried not to wonder how many times she cried without him knowing and it made him feel like a horrible father.

“El?” He whispered, not wanting to startle her.

Her back was facing him, but it was clear that she quickly reached up to wipe her tears away. “Yeah?”

He frowned at the sound of her voice, like she was still trying to hide the fact that she was upset about something. “Dinner’s ready if you’re hungry. You should really come eat something.”

“Okay, I’ll be down in a sec.”

For her sake, Harry wanted to nod and go back downstairs, but his fatherly heart was much too big and he couldn’t leave her without knowing what was wrong. She stood and turned around, facing her dad who was wearing a bigger frown than she had ever seen.

“Baby, tell me what’s wrong.” He said, sitting down on her bed and patting the spot next to him. “Sit down. You’re breaking my heart over here.”

“I’m fine, dad.”

“Ella,” he sighed, rubbing her back. “I know I’m just your dad and it’s probably lame to tell me things, but if it’s something serious, you have to talk to me about it. Daddy can’t stand to see you so upset.” She nodded sadly, crossing her arms. “I haven’t heard you laugh in weeks.”

Ella tried to find a way to make it seem like nothing. She’s been so scared since Miss Lila became her new dance teacher that if she told her parents anything, they would tell Miss Lila or even worse, she wouldn’t be able to dance anymore.

“It’s just dance stuff.”

Harry didn’t like that answer. “No it’s not.” He shook his head, quickly darting his eyes to Ella gracefully dancing on the tv. Light in her eyes and a smile on her face. When he looked back to his daughter sitting next to him, she was dark. Her light was no where to be seen and he felt so stupid for not noticing sooner. “It can’t be, because dance… dance is supposed to make you happy. You love to dance, El.”

Ella listened to her father carefully. There was no denying that his words were true, she did love to dance. What made her feel so sad was the doubt she sometimes had. Some days, she was beyond terrified to get dropped off at rehearsals and it never used to be that way. Every wrong step, low jump, or offbeat used to be a stepping stool to help her improve. Now, it just made her angry at herself.

The silence Harry received from her was enough to ask the question he really didn’t want to hear the answer to. “Do you not want to dance anymore?”

As soon as those words reached her ears, her bottom lip quivered and her face scrunched up, ready to release every tear in her body. “I don’t know,” she shrugged, pushing through a sob.

Harry wrapped her up in him, cradling her to his chest. “What happened? Why don’t you know?”

She curled her fingers around her father’s t-shirt, feeling slightly relieved by his familiar smell. She freely let her cries out, not being scared to be heard anymore. She was only eight, she needed help figuring out her problems and for once, she was happy her dad was there for her.

“It’s Miss Lila.” She choked out, her nose stuffy now. “Nothing I do is good enough, daddy.”

Harry frowned, pulling her face up to look at him, each of his palms flat against her cheeks. “What did she say to you?” He asked, angry that a grown adult was making his young daughter feel this way. It was not okay. “Baby, it’s okay, you can tell me.”

She looked down sadly, her sobs had died down, but her tears hadn’t. They were still running down her cheeks, breaking her father’s heart. “She’s a bully.” Ella whispered. “She doesn’t even call me by my name, she just says girl.”

None of that was okay to Harry. It was beyond wrong. He knew Ella was an amazing dancer and she was tough and strong and to see her so run down and tormented made him a cross between glumly sad and brutally angry. She had a name for a reason, it was her identity and made her a human being. He was not about to let some take that away from her.

He pulled her close to him, holding her head by his chest and for many reasons, he cried too. His baby girl wasn’t sad because of a scraped knee anymore, she had real, rational problems and he felt like it was his fault she had to deal with that kind of situation.

“I love you, El.” He rasped. “You have more talent in your pinky than she has in her whole body. I can guarantee you that. Dance just isn’t worth this.”

“I don’t wanna go back there.”

Harry sighed, “Okay. You don’t have to.”

She peeked her head up, trying to giggle through the tears. “But I still wanna dance. Just, somewhere else, okay?”

Harry chuckled, “That’s my girl.”