“The girls had gone home but my stomach was all in knots. I picked at my tights. I rebraided my hair. I squished a sweet potato ball under my thumb. My head was going round and round: basketball, athletics, basketball, athletics. Nana came in and started clearing all the dirty milkshake glasses. ‘You make all this mess?’ she joked, nodding at the crumbs that were scattered over the table. ‘I thought dancers were supposed to be delicate and dainty.’ ‘Only the boring ones,’ I said. ‘Mmmhmm,’ said ...Nana. ‘Now, what was this emergency meeting for? You sort it out?’ ‘Not sure,’ I said, ‘but it was good to tell someone else and not just keep it all to myself.’ Nana shut the dishwasher and leaned on the bench opposite me. ‘I know something’s been going on. You want to tell me? Or do I have to dirty-dishcloth it out of you?’ She dangled the wet, gross dishcloth over me. ‘Don’t!’ I screamed. ‘I’m still in my ballet clothes.’ ‘You get those off and put them in the wash basket,’ said Nana.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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