Fourth Birth: The Oakmont Saga, Book 1

The next day went much like the last, very uneventful and boring. James didn’t even look my way during Physics, but I knew he was waiting for the right moment. It was almost as if I could feel the malice emanating from him.

Martial Arts was much better than my first few days, although I was still yelled at by Mr. Braun. At least he didn’t make me a punching bag. After I finished Mind Preparation, I headed to where my assigned ballet class was. It would have been nice to have a choice, but I wasn’t too unhappy with it.

When I got there, I saw about twenty girls wearing black leotards, with tan ballet shoes. I went in and started looking around for someone that looked like a teacher, but there wasn’t anyone that stuck out. All I saw were girls, ranging from around eight years old to maybe fourteen. None of them sent probes to jab at me, which was a welcome relief.

Seeing an open door on the far wall, I headed there. I was rewarded when I saw an office with a very petite woman sitting at the desk with headphones on. She had mostly grey hair, but with hints of a darker color in it, that I thought might be brown. Her skin wasn’t wrinkled, like I’d expect for an older woman, giving her a young appearance, despite her greying hair. Although she was petite, there were clearly defined muscles under her tight fitting dance clothes.

Trying to be polite, I stood and waited for her to notice me. “You have to tap her on the shoulder,” a younger girl said, scaring the crap out of me. “Sorry I scared you,” she said, smiling.

Taking her advice, I tapped the woman on the shoulder. She slowly removed her headphones, then turned to look at me. “I do not know you,” she said, her accent sounding odd. I thought she was probably from Europe, maybe France, but I couldn’t really tell.

“What is your name? Are you new to my dance class,” she asked, sounding nice and friendly.

“I’m Melanie Brager, ma’am. I was told to take ballet on Tuesday and Thursday nights.” I handed her the piece of paper.

“You were told to?” Her left eyebrow rose a little, in obvious curiosity, as she looked at the piece of paper.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“They have never assigned a girl to me before. This is new. Do you want to dance?”

“I’ve never thought about it before. I’m willing to try it and see if I like it,” I told her, wanting to be honest.

“I will make a ballerina of you, if you have the heart for it. It is a lot of work though.” She stood up, and walked around me, looking me up and down. It was as if I was some kind of item to check for dents or broken pieces. “You have a very good posture and build for ballet. You are very pretty. Your face has the features of a good ballerina. Will your heart be into it, though,” she mused, now standing in front of me and looking into my eyes. “We can only let you learn and see what happens,” she said, as if her decision was made.

“You stay here. I will be back”. When she returned, she handed me a leotard, tights and ballet slippers. “You go change and we will begin.”

The class was very intense, and somewhat challenging. The instructor, Mrs. Renault, assigned another girl to work with me. Her name was Amanda, although she went by Amy. She was a stockier build than me, but was amazingly flexible.

She showed me the basic warm up exercises, which I tried to imitate. After one or two corrections for each one, we moved to the next one until there were no more for her to teach me. She then had me go through the entire warm up routine, which I did, although I knew I didn’t do it very well.

“You learn fast,” I heard Mrs. Renault say from behind. “You are little bit stiff, but that was very good.”

“I’m sorry,” I replied, embarrassed at doing so poorly.

“No sorry. You did good. You will get looser as you get used to doing it. Now, let us try some real dance steps.” The excitement she exuded was contagious.

She immediately showed me and Amy some dance steps, which I watched closely, memorizing everything she did. She did it slowly, and then sped it up, finally she did it a third time, going the speed she actually wanted it done. “Now, you try.”

Amy did it flawlessly as far as I could tell, but Mrs. Renault gave her a small correction. Next I tried, almost falling when I did one particular part that was hard. She laughed, which embarrassed me, making me lower my head and look at the ground in front of me.

“Do not be embarrassed,” she told me, placing a hand on my back in a kind way. “You did very good for your first try. That is a difficult move and you almost did it. It is always funny to see girls try that the first time. I fell on my face when I first did it,” she said, further trying to boost my spirits. It actually worked, too.

“Now, try again.” I did so, and although I didn’t fall, I knew I didn’t do it very well. “Another good try. Try to hold your right foot like so,” she said, showing me her foot position. One problem I had was that my ankle still hurt from my first day in martial arts.

But I tried again, following her instruction and this time I actually did it. “That was perfect,” she said, surprising me. I was sure I made some mistakes in it.

“You look like you do not believe me, but you did it exactly right,” she said, smiling broadly.

“Have you a hurt in your leg?” she asked, bending down and rubbing my sore ankle.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, enjoying the rub she was giving it.

“That explains much. You work through the pain very good.” She smiled at me as she stood back up.

“Amy, work with her on the beginning of the routine, and I will go work with other girls.”

“That was really good,” Amy whispered to me.

“Thanks. I didn’t think so.”

“She doesn’t tell you it’s perfect unless she really means it. She always encourages, but she doesn’t tell you that it’s good when it’s not.”

“Now I’ll show you the different moves one at a time, and then we’ll go through the beginning of the routine, if we have enough time,” she said, positioning herself in the starting position. I mimicked her through the entire sequence of moves, one at a time. She then had me repeat each one, making slight corrections here and there.

“You’re really good at this,” she said, when we completed the last move. “Let’s run through the whole routine together,” she said after looking at the clock and then positioning herself. We went through the routine, her not paying attention to me and me concentrating on what I was doing.

“That was beautiful,” Mrs. Renault said, when we finished. “Amy, you are smooth and graceful. Melanie, you learn very fast. With a little practice, you will loosen up and the stiffness that is in the way right now will go away and also your ankle will heal. Now, you go and change. Unfortunately, our time together is over,” she informed us, and she looked disappointed.

“Thank you for helping me,” I told Amy.

“No problem. You really are a fast learner. Other girls aren’t going to like how fast you got that.”

“Why?”

“Some of them have been working on that routine for a long time and still don’t have it as good as you do and it’s only your first day.”

“I don’t want to cause problems.”

“It’s too late for that.”

“I could see if they’ll let me out of the class.”

“They assigned you to ballet?” Her head tilted slightly, as she asked.

“Yeah, but I don’t know why. They just stuck this extra piece of paper on my class list, telling me I had a tutoring session with Mrs. Trulin and ballet.”

“Good luck with Mrs. Trulin. She’s mean.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve had a seizure both times I’ve gone to her. I think Mrs. Wilde called it a psychic burst.”

“Those things suck! You’ve had two that close together?”

“I think I’ve had eight since I’ve been here, maybe a couple more. I’m not really sure.”

“Really?” She looked shocked. “And you’re still alive?”

“What do you mean?” I was worried, thinking of what Mrs. Wilde told me.

“I’ve never heard of anyone having more than one in a month, much less eight in a few days. Many kids never have more than a couple their entire time here. Those things are horrible. They knock you out for a day, sometimes two. When did you have your last one?”

“Yesterday, when I went to my tutoring with Mrs. Trulin.”

“Wow, and you’re actually walking around today.” She looked impressed, which I definitely didn’t understand. It wasn’t pleasant, and I still felt it.

“I have a headache, but I’ve had one since I got here.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” she exclaimed, with a knowing look. “Well, I’ve gotta go. See you Thursday.”

“Good night.”

“Oh, just so you know. You seem nice, and I kinda like you, but I can’t be your friend.”

“Okay, but why?” Although most people didn’t like me, or want to be near me, I was confused by her statement.

“Because you’re friends with Aliyah and also because there are others that don’t like you,” she said and left.

“Hmm, I hate childhood drama,” Mrs. Renault said, as she came into view after Amy was gone.

“I guess you heard that,” I replied, embarrassed again.

“I heard enough. You will not work with Amy again.”

“Why not?”

“Because she allows childish games to get into her dancing. It could make working with her awkward for you, and I will not have that on my stage. Dancing needs to be everything. Now, I came here for another reason,” she said, her frown instantly becoming a smile.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“You are so polite. That is very nice to see. All kids here are required to be polite, but with you, it feels natural,” she said, then looked at me very seriously. “I want to have you work harder in class to practice the performance I am working on. Other girls will be unhappy, but they do not have the gift that you do.”

“I’ve only been through one class,” I said, not sure exactly what she was suggesting, but knowing it didn’t sound like it would help my popularity.

“Yes, and in that one class, you have almost mastered what has taken all of the other girls over a month to do well. The only one that has it as good as you is Amy, but she is not right for that part anyway. You are perfect to play my angel. You are petite, you have fine features, you are fair skin and hair and you are beautiful. With some small amount of practice, you will begin to feel the moves and flow with them. You are flexible already, so I have nothing to teach there. You are perfect for this, if you will do it. I can begin showing you the moves for the performance, and you will practice that instead of the basic moves this class is learning.” She looked expectantly at me.

“I’m not sure, Mrs. Renault,” I replied, not sure exactly what this involved.

“You practice for it the next few weeks and we will talk again. Both of us can decide then.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Know that I have been preparing ballerinas and ballerinos for many years and I know when I see a true ballerina before me. You can be a real ballerina, if you want to be. The heart is the only part I do not know. The ability is there.” There was a motherly smile on her face, which made me think of Momma.

“I’m not pretty or graceful,” I replied, looking at my hands in my lap.

“Ah, but you are, my fair angel. You have exquisite beauty.” Gently, she placed her hand on my chin, and lifted my face so I had to look at her.

“Now, you go and get dinner. I will see you Thursday,” she told me, turned and walked out.

I went to the cafeteria, and saw Aliyah already eating, so I got my food and joined her. “How was ballet?”

“I’m not sure,” I replied, confused.

“What do you mean, you’re not sure. What happened now?”

“Well, the class went pretty good. I enjoyed it, but at the end, the girl I was working with said she couldn’t be friends with me, even though I hadn’t asked her to. She said it was because I was friends with you and also because there are others that don’t like me.”

“Yeah, you’re tainted by me now. Sorry,” she said, looking unhappy.

“I’m not. If you’re the only friend I ever make here, then I’ve done pretty good,” I told her, making her smile a little.

“But that’s not the part that bothers me the most. I’ve been to one class and Mrs. Renault says she wants me in her performance. I think she wants me as one of the main parts, or roles, or whatever they are in a ballet. She said that the other girls will get jealous, but that she wants me to do it.”

“That’s awesome, but that is a little weird.”

“She said I was flexible and petite and stuff, but she said I was beautiful.”

“Are you kidding me!” Aliyah exclaimed, making several kids nearby look at us.

“That’s what I thought too.”

“You really don’t see it, do you? I thought you were just being modest, or something, but you really don’t know. You’re probably the most beautiful girl I know,” she told me, looking at me with a really weird expression, like she saw something that she just realized was there.

“You’re just saying that to try and make me feel better.”

“Good gosh, what does it take to make you feel good about yourself?” She looked up at the ceiling, making her response more dramatic.

“I do feel good about myself. I know I’m smart.”

“But you probably think you aren’t that smart, and you’re only the smartest person ever.”

“I doubt that.”

“Yeah, well, you’re super smart and you’re super beautiful. How is it that you’ve got it all, and don’t even realize it, and then someone like me gets what I got?”

“What’re you talking about?” It was my opportunity to turn it on her, and I wasn’t about to pass it up. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“I know I’m pretty and all that, but sometimes I wish I was smarter like you, and now it looks like you’re also the strongest telepath.”

“I’m not sure I want that.”

“No, you wouldn’t, but every other kid here would kill for it. Some literally,” she said, half smiling.

“I don’t think I’m as pretty or smart as you think, but thanks for telling me I am.”

“Yeah, whatever. Let’s go bowl. At least I can beat you at that,” she said, standing up with her tray, sporting a wicked looking grin.

I followed her out and we bowled for the remainder of our time before bed. That night, after roaming the building with my probes, I dreamed about being a ballerina on stage, looking and feeling beautiful. It was the little girl dream that I’d long outgrown, if I ever had it, but I was now having thanks to the ballet class and Mrs. Renault.

I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to take a walk and see what I could find, and I needed to know the place anyway. Heading to the basement, I got to the corridor and turned left, since right just led back to the school.

The corridor went a long way before I came to a stairway leading up. Walking up it, I got to the end of another short length of corridor, and saw a metal door. I was afraid of opening the door, worried that someone might be on the other side waiting for a kid trying to escape.

In a sudden burst of insight, I sent a probe through the door, and finding no one there, I slowly opened it, the door swinging easily on well-oiled hinges. There was absolutely no sound from the door and there was snow on the ground outside, pretty much confirming my belief that we were in a northern climate.

Looking out, there was only darkness, but thanks to the moonlight and the snow, I could see the faint outline of trees out there. The door opened into a forest. There was one question I needed an answer to. Was I outside the fence or inside? Odds were, I was inside. After a quick run to get a look at one of the trees, I broke myself away from the beautiful sight, and the invigorating chill in the air, returning to my bed.

“Rebecca, it seems that you were mistaken about Melanie,” Mike began, as he popped into her classroom that Wednesday after classes.

“How do you mean?” she replied, leaning back in her chair as he sat down in a nearby desk.

“She absolutely does not see herself as pretty. Quite the contrary, as a matter of fact. What I got from Aliyah, as well as Mrs. Renault, is that she has a very low self esteem.”

“That makes some of her actions more understandable, I suppose,” Rebecca replied, thinking about how Melanie behaved.

“I just wanted to let you know what I’d discovered. Have a good night, Rebecca,” he said, as he got up and headed for the door.

“You as well, Mike,” she replied, watching him leave. She sat there for a long time after that, thinking about the enigma that was Melanie Brager.