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doesn’t seem right.”
    â€œGrandpa, it’s part
    of learning ballet.”
    He shakes his head.
    â€œAll that dancing on your tiptoes.
    Most people get arthritis when they’re old.
    But what will your feet feel like
    after this much damage?”
    I shrug.
    He slips his feet out of his leather house shoes.
    His nails are thick and yellowish.
    His toes are knobby and bent like his hands.
    â€œI ballroom danced, remember,
    and you know I still love to ski.
    But neither of those
    equals the foot strain of ballet.
    And now my feet hurt
    on all our rainy days.”
    â€œHuh.”
    â€œI wish there was another way for you, Clare.”
    â€œAnother way for what?”
    â€œWell,” he says as he slips his shoe back on,
    â€œanother way to dance
    without damaging your feet.”
    â€œYeah.” I pick at some hanging blister skin.
    â€œIt would be great
    if I could be a dancer
    without this part.”
    I touch his shoe with my foot.
    â€œBut it’s worth it.”
    The glass shelves
    bounce the light
    into my eyes.
    I squint in the dark hall
    and sip my water.
    Army medals
    rest on red velvet.
    Old ski racing ribbons
    line a whole shelf.
    Most are first place.
    A picture of Grandpa
    dancing with Grandma.
    Her gauzy turquoise dress floats
    above the floor.
    She was really beautiful.
    Grandpa’s treasures
    are safe behind glass.
    I flip off the light
    and go to bed.
    I kick my leg
    as high as it can go.
    Grands battements:
    front,
    side,
    back,
    side.
    This is something
    I can do with power.
    Madame
    presses her cold cane
    against my hip.
    â€œControl.
    Control.
    Control,” she insists.
    I have to lower my kick
    so I don’t jar
    against her cane.
    â€œBetter.” She walks past
    tapping the rhythm.
    But now
    I’m only kicking
    as high as everyone else,
    and my grands battements
    don’t seem so special
    anymore.
    Rosella’s on the other side of the barre.
    The spot in front of me is empty.
    It’s Dia.
    That’s who’s missing.
    How can I miss Dia
    when I didn’t even know her?
    But she was
    one of us,
    one of this class,
    trying just as hard
    as everyone else.
    Now
    there’s an empty spot.
    Elton
    usually has to wipe the floor
    during barre exercise.
    He sweats so much.
    His dark skin shines.
    I need to sweat that much
    to show I’m trying my best.
    I’m going to work harder.
    Today Tommy grips the barre
    behind me.
    I move up closer to Nathan.
    I’ll never feel comfortable around Tommy,
    the way he flirts with all the other girls.
    I don’t like how his long hair clumps with sweat
    by the end of the class.
    Nathan’s crew cut always looks neat.
    So does Elton’s short Afro.
    I smooth my stray hairs back.
    The pianist plays an intro,
    and we sweep through the motions
    Madame instructed.
    Perfect synchrony
    among near strangers.
    Margot places one foot
    on the little barre in the floor room
    and slides.
    A perfect split.
    Rosella bends at the waist,
    puts her hands
    on the floor,
    presses one heel
    to the floor molding,
    and runs her other leg
    up the wall behind her.
    A perfect split.
    Elton sits facing the wall.
    With his legs spread apart,
    he scootches himself
    closer and closer
    until he touches
    every inch of the inside of his legs
    to the molding.
    A perfect split.
    I lie on my back
    and lift one straight leg.
    I pull it down against my chest
    until my toes
    touch the floor behind my head.
    A perfect split.
    Whatever way,
    it has to be perfect.
    Madame’s sipping from her water bottle.
    We have a couple more minutes to stretch.
    â€œIsn’t it weird she’s gone?” I whisper to Rosella.
    â€œWhat? Who?” She checks herself in the mirrors.
    â€œYou know. Dia.”
    â€œYou’re kidding.”
    â€œNo, I feel like—”
    â€œOh please, Clare.” She laughs.
    â€œIt’s good she’s gone.
    She looked awful
    with those big boobs
    bouncing around.
    She flopped all