Turning Point by Paula Chase

Author:Paula Chase
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Greenwillow Books
Published: 2020-07-30T00:00:00+00:00

Monique

“We gon’ have a par-tee,” Mo sang at the top of her lungs.

“We gon’ get it pop-inn,” Mila sang in return.

Right on cue, they belted out, “We ain’t gotta do SSSHHHHH,” two junior librarians shutting down their own jam. It was more fun to make the explosive shushing sound than it was to use the lyric’s curse word.

The song played on without their assistance as they tried to out shush each other. The joke never got old.

Mo sang along again under her breath, “That’s my jam.”

Without a pause, the song started over.

“Ayyy,” they said in unison, like somebody besides Mila had rewarded them with the replay.

In celebration of having free time, their room was festive. The music pumped life into the space, bass beating like a heart. They laughed at everything. Just happy to be in the room together after a week of being two trains passing and tooting at each other.

It was finally Sunday. They were going to see a special production of Giselle. Mo hadn’t ever watched a classical ballet; now, she’d seen five. Once a month they watched and then discussed a different ballet or modern dance production at TAG sessions. She still wasn’t totally used to how they didn’t talk in a ballet. She had fallen asleep on Romeo and Juliet. Couldn’t understand why a story about kids committing suicide was even a thing, much less a whole ballet.

Eventually she began to understand how the story was told through the dancing. Some of the ballets were still kind of boring. But she was hyped for Giselle. Who wouldn’t be down for a love story where a bunch of bitter chicks come back from the dead to haunt a dude for his dirt?

At this point, she didn’t care where they were going as long as her feet got a break. It was a welcome change in the routine. By Friday she’d felt like she was carrying bricks on her shoulders. It had gotten harder and harder to get up every day and keep it pushing. Not to mention every part of her body was sore. Anytime your pinky toe ached, you know it’s bad.

She had almost faked sick to skip Saturday’s class. The screaming in her thighs was only part of it. Every day she felt a little less sure of herself. Doubt crept in so deep she’d waited until Mila fell asleep Saturday night and texted her mother.

Moodles:

Hey mommy. You at work?

Mom-E:

Yeah Boo. Caught me on my break though. Isn’t it lights out? Everything okay?

Moodles:

As long as we in our room by curfew nobody really be making sure our lights out.

Mom-E:

Oh okay. How’s my baby girl?

Moodles:

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