Jessi's Big Break by Ann M. Martin

Author:Ann M. Martin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2015-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

“Lift! Li-i-i-ift! Yes! Nice work, Jessica!”

Normally, no one calls me Jessica. I tell everyone I prefer Jessi. The only exceptions are people I’m too afraid to correct — my parents, my teachers, and Aunt Cecelia, usually when they’re angry.

I’d just added one name to that list.

David Brailsford.

Even after a full week, I was in awe whenever he walked into the room. It was kind of like Zeus descending from Mount Olympus.

But one-on-one, personal, private instruction?

He could call me Myrtle and I wouldn’t protest.

During my first week, almost all of my individual instruction had been with Toni. She was an excellent teacher, very supportive and funny. Occasionally, Mr. Brailsford would drop in, but just to make a few comments.

This week, he was giving us his full attention.

“Okay, you’re dropping your left shoulder a bit on that pirouette,” he said.

“I always do that,” I said with a sigh.

“You can change,” Mr. Brailsford said. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Let’s try it again.”

I pirouetted. This time my right shoulder dipped.

But I did not wait for a comment. I went right into a double pirouette, which I was determined to do perfectly.

Instead, I went around three times.

A perfect triple. Which I’d never, ever been able to do in my life.

Mr. Brailsford applauded. “Excellent! Where did that come from?”

I couldn’t stop giggling. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“Believe it. It will be the first of many, Jessica. You’re showing terrific improvement. Okay, let’s do the piece Toni taught you, from the top.”

Nice work.

Excellent.

Terrific improvement.

The compliments were burning themselves into my memory. Three good ones, right in a row.

I wanted our session to last forever. I was having the best time.

When it was over, I danced out of the room.

I nearly stepped on Quint. He was doing stretches on the floor.

“Don’t tell me,” he said with a big smile. “Mr. Brailsford wants you to be in his next ballet.”

“No, not quite,” I said, calmly walking toward the vending machine.

“He wants to promote you to D-Level.”

“Nope.”

“I heard him say you were excellent,” Quint said, hopping up from the floor.

“You have good ears.”

“No. He just has a loud voice. Anyway, I’m sure you were as great as usual, Ms. Star of the Future.”

Remember the Big Talk that Quint and I were supposed to have on Sunday? Well, guess what? It didn’t happen.

We were too busy. First of all, we used Rasheen’s camcorder to make a horror video called Ballet Is Murder, which I directed. After that I led a game of charades. Then I choreographed a few karaoke numbers.

No Talk.

Afterward, Maritza told me, “No problem. Just don’t lead him on. If he sees you smiling too much or responding to his jokes, he might get the wrong impression.”

I didn’t totally agree. I wasn’t going to be cold. Not to someone as nice as Quint. I was determined to be polite but just a little distant. Friendly but not girlfriendly.

Simple. He’d get the message.

Now Quint was standing right next to me, his arm up against the vending machine.

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