Mum and Miss Corelli mingled with other parents and teachers. Everytime I scan the room to locate them, they seem to be smiling and gesturing in my direction. I imagine my mother is going overboard with how proud she is and how beautiful my performance was. Miss Corelli will be telling them that she’s my ballet teacher and blah blah blah.
Some of my classmates sheepishly sauntered over and took the micky out of my costume, before sort of complimenting my dancing. Some of the girls said I look better as a girl and said I looked ‘cute’. I grimaced. “Well I’d have preferred it if John hadn’t dropped out.” I said.
“Aren’t you glad I stepped in?” Kelly grinned as she leant on my shoulder. “I am!”
“Well I did try to talk Miss York into making you play a boy.” I told her as I eased myself from under her elbow.
“I know.” she said, playing with her long flowing hair. “But I don’t think I’d have been very convincing as a boy.”
“Neither was Peter.” one of my friends interjected before mimicking my current stance; a relaxed second position.
I folded my arms and told him that there’s not many places to put my arms whilst I’m wearing a pancake tutu. He suggested I changed and I told him that we’re not allowed. “Not yet anyway.” I said before glancing around. Susan still has her space suit on and it’s still gathering plenty of attention. She’s often battling with the tubes and does look quite hot inside it. I turn to Teresa who’s also looking hot, but in a different way. She smiles and says “It’s a wonder she hasn’t fainted in that.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.” I chuckled. “I might tell Miss York that we have to get changed on health & safety grounds.”
“Oh… but you look ace.” she said.
“So do you.” I replied. My eyes dropped to her shiny black stiletto heels and moved up to her nylon clad ankle. Her black tights are much thinner than mine. They’re the sort a grown up would wear. Her knee length pencil skirt hugs her hips and ten she erupts into a billowing white blouse. Her skin is like porcelain and her lips evoke a deep red rose. She doesn’t normally wear glasses but perched on her nose is a pair of shapely flat-lens spectacles. She really suits them. Her big bright eyes flicker from left to right. She tells me that I’m staring. “Sorry… you just look… really… tall.” I sheepishly mutter.
She smiles and looks me up and down. “Do that tip toe thing… I wanna see how tall you can be.”
“Er… it’s not that easy.” I claim, nervously glancing around.
“Oh go on… I’ll hold you.” she says, reaching out to take my hands. They’re warm and welcoming. She clutches and I clutch back before quickly putting myself on pointe. I hold the position for moment and enjoy being a couple of inches taller than her, before dropping myself down to my natural height. She tells me it’s an amazing talent. I tell her it hurts. “It’s still amazing.” she said. “Anyone could have played my part, or anyone else’s… but no one else in the school could have played yours.”
I gulped as a bucket full of pride dropped into my belly. “I reckon there’s girls who could have done better… I might be the only boy who does… did ballet …but… I think a girl would have been more suited to the role that me.”
“You can say that again.” Robert said, almost sneering at me. “But no.” he added, just before I had time to get offended. “I crept up the steps with the others and… you were brilliant.” he paused and fixed my gaze.
“Well I er…” I sheepishly stammered, not knowing how to respond. It wasn’t too long ago he was calling me a fag and now all of a sudden…
“I still think you’re a fag.” he spat.
I burst out laughing. Teresa did too. “Only joking.” he grinned. “You might be playing a girl but…” he paused and gestured to his own attire; a Bob the builder inspired outfit that doesn’t quite work. “…I think I’m one of the Village People.” he grimaced.
“All we need is a cop and a biker, a soldier and an Apache.” Kelly chortled.
Meanwhile, my mother was raiding the buffet. She called me over and pushed a plate of food in to my hands. Two sausage rolls, a trio of volovants (salmon, mushroom and prawn), a handful of crisps, a slither of pizza, a quarter of a dinky pork pie and several sausages on sticks with either cheese or pineapple. “Be careful not to get crumbs on your tutu Peter.” she says as I bit into a mini sausage roll.
“It’s just a costume.” I said as swept a bit of puff pastry off it. “It’ll probably never be used again.”
“Maybe not but I don’t want it getting messy.” she said.
I shrugged and said it doesn’t matter, before biting into the sausage roll once more. Another crumb fell and I brushed it off my tutu.
“Actually Peter, it does matter.” Mum said. “I asked Miss York what would happen to the costumes and she said they’d eventually be sold off… so I offered to buy it.”
“Why would you want to buy this?!” I asked with my mouth still half full of food.
“As a memento.” she replied.
“You’ll have photographs.”
“I know but they’re not like the real thing are they?”