I stood above the dancers, watching below as they shifted lines, front to back, drenched in sweat. The school had been search of a new artistic director and ballet mistress so walking the floors felt like every one was whispering right around the corner. The girls all wore backless leotards so you could see their muscles, which looked like the wind rippling sand.
“I have a crush on one of them,” this girl appeared out of nowhere, and slid next to me. “That one, right there,” she pointed and I looked at her, still trying to figure out where she came from.
A high pitch of desperation shrilled in her voice. “I would make him like me. His balls are huge!”
I choked on my water I was swallowing…“Excuse me?” I said
“I get it!” I yelled in a whisper.
The room five feet next to us contained the board of directors, that decide who replaces the new artistic director. They shut the door, and I grimaced. The current artistic director rounded the corner, as a lady I hadn’t noticed standing close to us, turned to face him. He approached her solemn-like, “Well he sure know his Balanchine.” she said and he looked at her with a stiff smile. “Yes, I’m sure he does, but —” He looked peculiarly at us. “Come this way with me,” he said and they walked off, entangled in hushed gossip.