On Pointe by Lorie Ann Grover Read Free Book Online

jumping
    until
    my foot cramps.
    The ladybugs turn black
    and fall off,
    clattering to the floor.
    The sky shatters,
    and shards crash to the earth.
    I wake up.
    Oh, man!
    A charley horse!
    The pain bites
    and grinds the muscle in my arch
    up into the bone.
    The muscle
    is twisting, trying to flip over.
    I jump out of bed
    and crash around the room.
    Grandpa comes in.
    â€œPut your weight on it,” he says,
    and loops his arm
    around my waist.
    â€œI can’t!”
    â€œDo it,” he says.
    â€œOw, ow, ouch.”
    He helps me walk off the cramp.
    There.
    â€œHow can it hurt so bad,
    but when you finally stand on it,
    it eases away with tingles?”
    â€œIt just does,” he says.
    â€œAnd why’s it called a charley horse, Grandpa?”
    â€œI’ve never heard.”
    â€œMe either.”
    I give him a hug
    and notice
    he feels so small.
    My head is above his.
    â€œNow get back in bed,” he tells me,
    â€œand I’ll bring you some water.
    You must be dehydrated.
    I’m so sorry I didn’t bring more water
    for the hike.”
    â€œIt’s okay.”
    I crawl under the sheet
    and rub my foot.
    My toes aren’t pulled apart
    like a wishbone anymore.
    Grandpa brings the water.
    I gulp it down.
    He slides both windows closed.
    â€œDon’t want you getting chilled.
    Good night, love,” he says.
    â€œGood night, Grandpa.”
    Prunes again this morning.
    I stare at the
    bloated blobs
    floating
    in Grandpa’s bowl.
    He slurps them down.
    I gobble up my low-fat breakfast bar.
    My foot is a little sore
    from the charley horse last night.
    I massage it while I sit at the table.
    â€œThursday Bible study for me this morning,”
    Grandpa says.
    â€œOh.”
    â€œWe have such a good group,
    and the study is very intriguing about—”
    I zone out until I hear,
    â€œYou know you are welcome to come
    and worship with me on Sundays.”
    â€œYeah. But it’s just not for me, Grandpa.”
    He straightens the place mat.
    I’ll tell him how I feel.
    That’s not talking back.
    â€œSince Mom and Dad have never gone to church,
    it would be really weird for me.
    Remember we talked about it before?”
    â€œOh, yes. But I thought you might have
    changed your mind.”
    I shake my head.
    â€œWell, I guess I’ll be going then,” he says.
    â€œWould you load the dishwasher?”
    â€œSure.” I smile to make it up to him.
    He pats me on the back.
    â€œHave a good class.”
    â€œYou too,” I say.
    I push the dishwasher closed.
    I don’t have to go to church,
    and he’s not going to make me
    feel guilty or anything.
    I wipe the counter with the sponge
    and squeeze the water into the sink.
    Not one bit of guilt in me, Grandpa.
    Liar.
    I avoid Rosella while she changes
    and go early to the empty barre room.
    I rest my ankle on the top rung
    and slide it
    until I’m in a split.
    I close my eyes,
    and the stretch warms the back of my thigh.
    â€œHi, Clare.”
    It’s Elton.
    â€œHi.” I pull back up.
    He stretches on the other side of the barre.
    His leg slides clear to the end.
    â€œYou ready for auditions?” he asks.
    I shrug. “I’m a little nervous.”
    â€œYou’ll do great.” He slides back up.
    I bend at the waist and hug my head
    to my knees to hide my blushing.
    â€œThanks,” I finally answer,
    and straighten.
    â€œI was in City Ballet last year
    with Margot,” he says.
    â€œI know.”
    â€œSo, believe me.
    You’ll make it.”
    I smile back at him.
    We reach for the barre
    and brush hands,
    his dark,
    mine pale.
    I quickly straighten my skirt.
    Plié, down and up.
    The guys in class
    seem nice enough.
    Especially to each other.
    This must be one place they can make friends.
    Kids at their schools must be brutal
    when they find out
    the guys take ballet lessons.
    I’m sure a lot are hassled about being gay.
    Plié,