Rosie Riley's Dream, Page 2

can do all sorts of things, but she doesn’t stick out or if she does, it’s in a good way that everybody likes. I can’t explain it. You don’t understand.”

  “Rosie, I do understand. Everyone feels different and funny and weird at one time or another. You’re just not quite old enough to realize that it’s not just you. I’ll bet all of the kids in your class feel like that once in a while, including Maria Delgado.

  “However, it’s late and you’ve got a big day tomorrow. Are your things ready for rehearsal?”

  “Yep. It was good luck finding those shoes, wasn’t it?” She looked at the pink ballet shoes hanging on the knob of her closet.

  “It sure was. But I can’t get over the fact that no one else had them in stock. Now that’s weird! But it doesn’t really matter, just as long as we found them. Good night, sweetie, see you in the morning.” She gave Rosie a big hug and kiss, opened the window a crack, and closed the door.

  Rosie twirled around her room a couple of times and posed in front of her mirror in various ballet positions. Then she looked at herself and made a face. She pulled her hair up onto the top of head and said, “I have stupid hair.” Finally she hopped into bed and turned off the lamp.

  She lay snuggled under her covers and looked out into the night sky at the crescent moon just visible over the trees.

  “Good night, little crazy bird. If you’re out there, wish me luck tomorrow. Mom says it’s good to be different, but I think she’s nuts. I still wish I looked like Margery Phillips. She’s beautiful. Oh well, nighty-night.”

  In the darkness outside her window, two tiny emerald lights blinked on and off and then went out altogether.

  Late that night when Rosie was sound asleep and the house was as silent as stone, a breeze blew in through Rosie’s window. But nothing in the room moved except the ballet shoes hanging on the closet door. They started to sway slowly back and forth as if moving to the first quiet strains of a waltz. Then the breeze picked up and the shoes began to tap in rhythm with the wind. They leaped off the doorknob and started dancing wildly on the floor. They gracefully whirled around the room in polka time, and did great leaps over the bed, and pirouetted, and kicked their invisible legs high into the air.

  They danced and twirled and leaped until the unseen dancer must have been exhausted. Then they did the most curious thing. The shoes stopped dancing and slowly walked around Rosie on her bed in small, mincing steps. They circled her from head to toe and landed quietly at her feet. Then they lay still and did not move again.

  Rosie was snuggled deep under her comforter when she woke to the hurried voice of her mother in the hall.

  “I’m sorry, baby. I forgot to tell you last night that Daddy and I have an early appointment this morning. Your breakfast is all ready in the kitchen and Mrs. Wilde is next door if you need anything. Don’t forget teeth and hair and get your ballet things together before school, so we don’t have to rush this afternoon.”

  She ran into the room and gave Rosie a quick hug and kiss on the head. “Be good and don’t keep the carpool waiting.” She was out the door before Rosie had even opened her eyes.

  Rosie moaned, “I hate mornings like this.” She sat up and stretched. “Yuck. Nobody home. It’s too quiet.” She turned on the radio so loudly she couldn’t hear herself think and got ready for school.

  The carpool was late and she had to rush into school. The first person she ran into was the principal – head on. She looked up and caught her breath in amazement.

  “What in the world…” she started to say, but Mrs. Freemont cut her off.

  “What in the world, indeed. Slow down or you’ll break your neck or someone else’s. Now walk to class like a young lady, Rosie.”

  She did and by the time she got there she had calmed down considerably. But as she walked into the room and settled herself at her desk next to Margery Phillips, she caught her breath again. She closed her eyes for a minute and then opened them. She looked at her teacher. She looked around the room.

  “Hold it, Rosie,” she murmured to herself. “Stay calm. Relax. You’re still asleep. Sure, that’s it! Close your eyes and open them slowly and everything will be fine.” She did and, sure enough, everything was fine and the morning went on just as it always did.

  The only strange thing that happened was that her teacher, Mrs. Joseph, asked a very simple question. “Now in a fraction such as 1/2, we call the top number the numerator. What do we call the bottom number?”

  Not a hand went up. Mrs. Joseph called on Rosie.

  “The bottom number? I don’t know.” Mrs. Joseph looked at her closely and raised her eyebrows, but didn’t say anything and Rosie sat down.

  At recess, she and Margery were walking around together, talking.

  “It was the weirdest thing, Margery. This morning when I got to school, everybody looked different. In fact, everybody looked kind of like you. I think I must have been sleep walking.”

  “Oh gross. Who’d want to look like me? That would be awful.”

  “No, it wouldn’t. You’re beautiful.”

  Before Margery could say anything the bell rang and they went in. After lunch in science class, Rosie actually fell asleep at her desk. This was another first for her and an even bigger first was that she got into trouble for it.

  As she rode home in Mrs. Phillips car she thought to herself, “Holy smoke! This is the weirdest day I’ve ever had. First, I’m seeing things, and next, my mind goes blank in class, and now I’m in trouble. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”

  As she sauntered up the driveway to her door, she kept thinking about the strange day she’d had. “The dance recital must be getting to me. Daddy keeps telling me I take on too much. Maybe he’s right. I’m overdoing it. Well, after this performance, I’m going to take a break.”

  The house was empty when she walked in and there was a note from her mother saying she would be home in time for rehearsal. Rosie got herself a snack and then ran upstairs to change. She packed her bag and sat down to wait for her mother.

  “Sorry, sweetie. I’ve been running late all day. Have you got everything?” asked her mother when she finally rushed in. “We have to hurry.”

  “Yep. My costume’s in my bag. I’m wearing my tights and leotard. Let’s go.”

  “Do you have your shoes?” asked her mother with an impatient smile on her face.

  “Shoes! After all that trouble I almost forgot them. Just a sec.” She ran up the stairs to her room and grabbed the shoes from the end of her bed. She hesitated for a moment and wondered, “Now how did they get there? I always hang them on the closet door. Oh, well.” She shrugged her shoulders and ran down the steps and out to the car.

  On the way to the ballet school, Rosie began to feel a little funny again. “You know, Mom, I think I’m getting strange. You wouldn’t believe what happened to me in school today. For one thing, I got into trouble in science class!”

  “Well, that’s pretty normal, isn’t it? What did you do this time – fall asleep again?” her mother asked.

  “What do you mean ‘again’? I never fall asleep in school and I never get into trouble. I mean, look at me in ballet. My teacher always uses me as an example of how to behave and stuff. It gets embarrassing. But I hate getting into trouble because that’s even more embarrassing.

  “I guess that’s why I’m so different. I can’t help it, but I wish I could.”

  “There you go again about being different. I don’t understand you at all. You’re just like any other nine-year old in your class. Don’t get fancy ideas about yourself.” She dropped Rosie off in front of the school and said, “I’ll pick you up at six. Have fun!”

  Rosie got to the door and turned around to blow her mom a kiss. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. Margery Phillips face was blowing her a kiss from behind the steering wheel of her mother’s car. She turned around and ran as fast as she could to her class.

  She made a real effort to calm down as she got into her costume. She laced
up her shoes, breathed deeply and tried to relax.

  “I’m not crazy. I’m just tired.” She kept repeating this to herself as she did her stretches and warm-ups. The class came to order and Miss Marion, her teacher, gave a short talk about what she expected from the performance.

  “Now, let’s see where we are.” Miss Marion stood in front of the large picture window and watched the girls as they began their routine.

  Rosie was dismayed to find that she wasn’t dancing very well. In fact, she was no better than anyone else in the class. Her leaps weren’t even very good, and they were her best thing!

  “Okay, girls. The show’s the day after tomorrow and you’re not quite ready, yet. Let’s turn toward the mirror so you can see what you’re doing.”

  They turned toward the mirror-lined wall opposite the window. It was a huge mirror, big enough for all eight of the dancers to see themselves at the same time. As Rosie looked straight into the mirror, she let out a scream. She was looking Margery Phillips’ face, but on her own body. And every other dancer in the room looked like Margery Phillips, too. She looked over to her teacher who just smiled and remarked on how nice they all looked in their costumes.

  “So nice for everyone to be alike, I think. It looks so neat and no one stands out. Everybody’s just the same. Nice!”

  Rosie felt tears welling up in her eyes and another scream rising in her throat. But nobody else seemed to notice