Olympiczero Posted March 11, 2023 Share Posted March 11, 2023 Hi All - Newer writer here. Inspired by many of the incredible writers here, and still finding my own footing. Started one story and stopped (still working out the ideas), but this idea came to me and I wanted to explore it. I hope you enjoy it, and I appreciate you coming to read my tale. __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ The Ballet Slippers - Prologue "Oh, I'm just not sure. What do you think about these?" The question was innocent, but far, far more complicated than it seemed. Jane had been in this particular shop for what felt like all day. In reality, it had probably only been an hour or so, but the cool summer afternoon was slipping away, and soon enough the sun would set. Jane was out of her element. She didn't have time to shop all that often, and usually her daughter took care of her equipment by herself. But this was a special occasion. "Do you think she'd like these?" Jane asked, as if begging the now less-than patient owner of the store. "These ones are good, right?" The owner - she introduced herself as Kat - sighed, exasperated from repeating herself. "Ma'am, as I have stated before, if your daughter is really as good as you say she is, this is something that she would want to pick out herself. Ballet slippers are a part of a dancer when they perform. They are an extension of the dancer, and each dancer is unique. This is not something that can just be picked up of the shelf and magically work out. The slippers pick the dancer as much as the dancer picks the slippers" Kat watched as Jane's expression continued to change. An hour ago, a happy, excited mom walked into her store wanting to buy her daughter some ballet slippers as a present. Now, in that woman's place stood a scared, upset, and anxious mom, and Kat was all but certain she would be unable to help. Kat felt bad --she really did--but the truth was that this mom was trying to make a personal decision that belongs to each dancer. 'It was strange,' Kat thought, 'usually these "dance moms" were really knowledgeable about these decisions.' Kat was used to the type, many dance parents even going to so far to tell Kat that they knew better than Kat did about the dancing needs of their children. Kat had learned to just smile at them. 'Make the sale and let them be on their way' she would remind herself. This mom, however, was not one of those dance moms. 'She is different. And younger. Much younger actually. Maybe that was it? Maybe...' Kat took in the woman in front of her, looking her up and down. Her hair was blondish, and likely used to be much lighter. She didn't appear to color her hair though, and even though the original color of her hair seemed faded, it was beautiful as the remaining sun-kissed strands glistened as they caught the sunlight filtering through the store's large windows. Kat watched as the mom turned her face to look at another set of ballet slippers. The remnants of freckles adorned her cheeks and nose. She was tall, likely around 5 feet and 9 inches or so, Kat estimated. 'But she seems taller than she is.' Jane carried herself with grace and poise, and her movements were elegant. Kat looked into her brown eyes, warm and inviting, speckles of a faded green that likely used to be more prominent. 'She looks kind,' Kat thought to herself. Jane's figure was nothing short of excellent as well, Kat thought. 'Could have been a dancer herself, but based on what I am seeing...though likely wasn't. Kat's eyes traced Jane's body up and down; her toned physique was lost by the outfit she wore— frumpy jeans, a worn out top. And shoes that appeared to almost have holes in them. 'Not an ordinary customer here either. Not likely she has a ton of money,' Kat acknowledged. 'That'll be a problem too.' Still, despite her customer's appearance, Kat could tell the mom had quite the figure on her. 'And she's not lacking in the breast department either,' Kat thought to herself, oddly feeling self conscious about her own petite frame for a moment. In a nicer blouse and fitted jeans, the mom's slender waist and her long, legs would have shown better. Well, whatever it was, it was pretty surprising to Kat that this mom - who clearly knew very little - would ever show up without her daughter. So Kat had been gentle, and tried to work with her, holding her hand, or so to say, through the process. Kat did not want to lead Jane astray, especially considering that she enforced a no-return policy on shoe purchases of that quality that Jane was looking for. "If you want to return another time with your daughter," Kat broached gently, "I am sure we can..." Jane cut her off "No! I want this to be a special surprise. I am sure I can make a decision." Kat hoped that the decision would come soon, as she had her own young daughter to attend to, and would have to relieve her babysitter at home soon. Jane fumbled around her large, red tote bag, obviously looking for something. Kat was of course correct in her assessment; Jane didn't know how to shop for ballet slippers. But Jane had come prepared. You see, over the summer Jane had meticulously--and deceptively-- pried information from her daughter - Isabelle - about her ballet slipper preferences. 'They're in here somewhere' Jane thought to herself. Jane was feeling pressure to be quicker, to appear as though she knew what she was doing in front of the shop owner. "One moment" Jane called out, attempting to exude a sense of control, when in reality, she felt anything but confident in this situation. On top of being an exceptional dancer, Isabelle was an extraordinarily responsible teenager, and for at least five years now, had been entirely responsible for purchasing her own ballet clothes, slippers, and other equipment she needed. Perhaps more than her work ethic and determination at perfecting her dancing craft, Jane was proud of how grown up her daughter had become. 'Maybe too grown up,' Jane assessed, as she continued to rummage through her bag. It had only ever been the two of them. Jane had become pregnant with Isabelle when she was quite young, deciding to keep and raise Isabelle, despite being told she would be doing so by herself. Jane didn't mind, and ultimately, it was the best decision she ever made. That didn't mean there weren't certain challenges that came with it. Isabelle understood that, unlike her classmates, Isabelle and Jane lived on a strict budget, and Isabelle respected that. The cost of her school alone was enough to put financial pressure on Jane, but adding on the cost of replacing leotards, tights, tutus, dresses, costumes, workout equipment, and of course, so very, very many ballet slippers, Jane was oftentimes scrapping the barrel to come up with the funds. Isabelle had always respected the family's limitations. Time and time again Isabelle earned Jane's trust with her credit card whenever she needed to replace or purchase something new for her dancing, so much so that Jane had never bothered learning much about what Isabelle needed. And for as long as Jane could remember, Isabelle had taken on any and every side job she could manage between her school work and dance training; babysitting, tutoring, even offering to clean family friends' homes when on some weekend days while her friends were out together having fun. Jane was proud every time she though of her. Finally, Jane found what felt like her notepad, and yanked it out of the bag. Jane's eyes scanned her notepad over, quickly memorizing as much as she could with one glance. "See, here. I need a classic pointe slipper, a size 7. The slippers needs to be on the narrow side, but not too much so. It needs to have..." Jane looked down at the pad and right back up "..a medium and square box and have a very stiff shank. And the slippers need to have a higher than normal heel." Jane tailed off as though she was finished, but quickly remembered one more detail "Oh! And her favorite slippers were always pink. Pink with suede tips. Do you have anything like that?" Kat sighed again, keeping her frustration to herself. In an effort to entertain Jane, Kat had been half-heartedly jotting down notes on her own pad of paper behind the register about the slippers Jane was looking for. This woman would not quit, and would not listen. Nothing she said was going to make this purchase possible. No amount of information about the slippers, the length, the width, the square box, the very stiff....wait. She did say very stiff shank, right? And a high heel....pink slippers with suede tips? Those were common enough. But the rest of these measurements.....The rest of them seemed, familiar. They certainly weren't common, so why was it that they felt familiar? Kat perked up a little. The expression on her face must have also changed, as Jane appeared to pick up on something. "Oh, did you think of something you might have? Did that help?" The eager, excited, and happy mom that walked into her store had returned. Kat barely her customer, and certainly didn't notice the returned excitement. Her focus was elsewhere. Where, she could not tell you. But it was somewhere. Kat felt herself receding further and further into her own internal dialogue. None of these details made a difference, she reminded herself. 'We need the girl - she needs to bring her daughter.' But then, there was the counter point. 'Maybe... just maybe, maybe we don't? Maybe, I do have those slippers...or something like them,' Kat began to think. 'No! Jane would have to return with her daughter. But yet, on the other hand, no she didn't. Something....something about that description. Kat kept looking over and over the gibberish notes she took about the slippers. "We may....I just...I don't understand." Kat half mumbled the second part to herself, and it was probably inaudible to Jane. "Let me go to the storeroom quickly." Kat said more clearly. "Wait here." Kat could not understand what compelled her to say that. She didn't have anything in the storeroom for this poor woman. 'Why did I say that? Why would I give this poor woman hope? But then again.....no. No, no no. This is silly.' Yet, despite knowing better, off Kat went toward the storeroom. Kat left Jane unattended as she gingerly maneuvered toward the back of her store. She moved past the seating area and changing rooms, then beyond the mini-studio area for dancers to test slippers, and through the floor-length drapes concealed at the back of the store. Kat pushed the drapes aside, and began making her way down the narrow, steep winding staircase to her storeroom. Kat was proud of her store. She owned and managed it on her own. Kat took pride in the quality and wide range of products she sold. The majority of her inventory was pre-fitted; slippers, clothing, outfits, and equipment. However Kat did take custom orders, which she created herself, and the storeroom was primarily designed to make custom outfits and slippers. Kat could never fulfill major orders, but for certain loyal clients she willingly (and excitedly) made specialized products. Her business did well, and most importantly, she loved her work. Yet, something Kat could not explain was luring her to the storeroom. Kat descended the stairs as though she had no control over where she was going. 'I can't make her slippers now.' she thought to herself. Yet, she continued. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Kat stopped, and took in her store room. The basement was vaulted up by light, sanded wooden beams. Beneath her feet was a recently refurbished hardwood floor, illuminated by the lights she had installed on each beam. During the day, light beamed in through a window that was level with the sidewalk from the east, and then from the western window in the afternoon. Looking to her right was a small alcove with her work station, and to her left where she stored supplies- three adjacent rows of shelves neatly lined up from the north of the room to the south, loaded with extra slippers, clothing, and supplies for crafting both. Kat looked right at her station - clean after finishing her last order just yesterday - and then turned and began walking to her left. She had no idea what she was hoping to find down here, but her body and mind were not in sync, and right now, her body was in charge. Kat walked to the front of the first shelf, and turned to her left as if to walk past each row....past one shelving row...and then past a second. TURN! The thought hit her quickly and she made a right, walking down the third and last row of shelves. She had no idea what she was supposed to be looking for. Kat mostly used these shelves to store leather, satin, and suede for custom orders or refurbishing. What was she doing down here? Kat took one step. Then a second. Moving was becoming more challenging. 'Why can't I lift my legs?' Each step seemed to require more effort than the last. Kat slowly made her way down the row, hauling her petite yet inexplicably now-weighty body, further down the row when suddenly, her feet wouldn't move anymore. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't lift her feet. 'Uh-oh....' Was she sick? Tired?...What was going on....? Kat started to get nervous. She was down here alone, and was struggling to move. This had never happened before. She was worried she might have to call an ambulance....'shit' she thought, as she realized she left her phone by the register. 'This is not good...not good at all.' Kat's heart started beating a little faster. Just a little at first, but then, before too long, it felt like her heart was trying to escape her chest. '...Am...Am I....I am not okay' she concluded. She was genuinely getting scared. But then again, she had a nagging feeling of.....confidence? It was as if she had never been more certain about anything, but at the same time, was freaking out. 'What is happening to me?' The answer apparently, was something just below her line of sight. Kat could not explain why, but something compelled her to crouch down, and as she did, she came face to face with a plastic bin. 'This bin...what on earth this' she thought to herself. 'I have never seen this bin in my life.' She started examining the bin, noticing immediately it was in good shape, if not disregarded. The bin was large and aqua colored. Kat reached out to grasp the handles, immediately identifying that the bin was weightier than she expected. On the front of the bin there was a single piece of packing tape labelled "S.P." and between the color and all the dust on the bin, Kat couldn't decipher what was stored in the bin. 'What on earth is this?' Kat didn't remember putting this here. In fact, she had been down here earlier collecting supplies in this very row and hadn't noticed the bin. She shrugged the thought off, her curiosity taking over. With a firm tug, Kat pulled the bin off the shelf, and it fell to the ground with a resounding *oomph.* Pulling the bin off the shelf, even if it only moved a few inches, required more effort than she had anticipated As she did, a layer of dust puffed off of the top, popping up in an almost mushroom-like cloud, just as her feet stumbled backward. "Huh. Well that's one last thing to be concerned about," Kat said, speaking aloud to herself. Kat shook her legs off, as though to ensure she had actually regained control of them. With the thick layer of dust off the lid, Kat could just make out what seemed like clothing in the box. Still, it was unclear, and while she was once very curious, she was now a little worried about what she might find in it. She shook her concerns off. There was only once sensible course of conduct: open the bin. Kat reached for the hand-latches on each end of the bin, pulled each down to the satisfying sound of a *pop*, and the lid came loose. Cautiously, Kat slid the lid back off the bin, and her eyes widened, and then settled as she was presented with a common sight. The box, fittingly, appeared to have all sorts of ballet attire - leotards, tights, tutus, and more. But these were not items she sold in the store. It looked like they had belonged to someone. But who? They certainly weren't hers. But Kat could hardly focus on all that, because smack in the middle of the bin, sitting right on top of a bundle of neatly folded clothes, were a pair of ballet slippers; Classic point, narrow, medium and square box, and if Kat had a million dollars to bet, she'd have eyed them as stiff size 7 slippers. "What...on...earth...Wha.." Hesitantly, Kat reached for the pointe slippers, inching her arms forward slowly as though they were a dangerous substance. As her hands were inches from the slippers, she felt something and froze....was it heat? What...what on earth was that? It was almost...almost a vibration of sorts. Kat's heart began to beat faster again, and a cold sweat began dripping down the side of her cheek. 'I better start moving again before my body freezes up,' she reminded herself, but again, she couldn't quite explain this odd phenomena. Finally, after what felt like ten minutes, Kat managed the last few inches, and picked up the slippers, and pulled them back toward her body. As soon as Kat came into contact with the slippers, the floor gave out underneath her, and everything went dark. Kat screamed, but frighteningly, she didn't hear any noise, Kat was free falling into what seemed like the abyss. Spinning, turning, twirling and spinning, Kat was falling faster and faster, and was screaming - or at least trying to - louder and louder. Kat was petrified, and felt her grip on reality lessening each second she kept falling. Her terror caused her grip on the slippers to only strengthen, holding on to the one form of reality she felt she had left. Though she kept falling, she managed to stop spinning, and straighten up. She was falling feet first now, and despite the fact that she had no idea what was going on, it felt better to be upright. And then, after substantially more falling, something happened. Kat saw a glimpse of color...more than color. A...an image of sort. And then another one, behind her this time. Then below her, and then above her. All around Kat, blurry images were forming, creating a cylindrical like tube that she continued to fall through. Kat tried to focus on the images now, but it was impossible as she kept falling. But that one, that one looked like a tutu....and that's a ballet studi--it was gone. Twisting and turning she kept catching glimpses of what appeared to be fragments of the life of a ballerina. Pieces here, portions there, no names, no discernable faces, but...yes that was definitely a part of the Nutcracker. And there! A ballet class. Recitals. Performances. Was that Julliard?....wait...what was going on. Kat continued to fall and fall, further down with no end in sight. And as she kept falling, the once clearer images were beginning to fade, and before she knew it, the colors disappeared and she returned to pure darkness. And then, it stopped. Eyes closed, jaw clenched, slippers clutched desperately in hand, Kat was shaking. But she noticed that she was no longer falling. In fact, she was sitting. It took her a few minutes to brave opening her eyes, but after a few minutes, kat slowly, she peeked out of her right eye and saw she was seated on the floor of her storeroom, with the aqua bin in front of her. Why was she sitting? This was an odd place to sit. She opened her other eye, and started to look around. What...what happened? She tried to remember, but...nothing came to her. She had no memory of falling, no memory of the pictures swirling around her, and no memory of why she was sitting on the floor. 'I must have fallen' Kat concluded "....but..." "Kat! Did you find anything?!?" An excited voice from upstairs shook her out of Kat from her trance. She had.....come down here to get something for a customer. 'Of course!' Kat exclaimed, looking in her hands, still holding the ballet slippers. That woman...Jane. She was looking for ballet slippers. But I don't....I can't....something isn't right. Instinct kicked in and took over her uncertainty. "Coming!" Kat called back up. Kat picked herself up off the floor, and almost immediately returned to feeling herself. Better, even. And with the same confidence with which she had been walked down the stairs, Kat began walking back toward the her showroom. She grasped the handrail on the spiral stairs, and one at a time, pulled herself up each stair. "Must have been quite the fall..." Kat mumbled to herself as she climbed the staircase, feeling confident, but still uneasy on her feet. Slowly but surely, Kat reached the peak of the staircase, walked past her mini studio, moved by the dressing rooms, and out into the main salon of her studio. She maneuvered behind the counter, where she was finally able to rest her weight on the countertop. 'Why am I so out of breath?' Slippers in hand, Kat turned to Jane, and without thinking, simply started speaking. "I found....I found these." Kat reached out to hand Jane the ballet slippers. 'I shouldn't....why shouldn't...' Kat's mind was all over the place. Something felt wrong, but her body continued to betray her, as she reached further out and then, let go of the slippers just as Jane was grasping them. Jane couldn't believe it, as she took the slippers in her hands. "They look PERFECT" Jane nearly shouted, as she pulled the ballet slippers out of Kat's hands. Nothing seemed to happen, and Kat's concern faded away. "How on earth did you....they said you were the best in town! Izzy will LOVE them!" Jane's smile was beaming across her face. Again, without thinking, or understanding what she was saying, Kat started to speak. "Those...Those slippers belonged to the best dancer I ever knew. She was....remarkable. Elegant, precise...magnificent. Her name...her name was....umm.." Kat was trying to remember her, who she was, but for the life of her, she couldn't. "Well I suppose its not important," she conceded, "But those were her favorite slippers. She doesn't need them anymore, and when you described what you were looking for, I thought of them." Kat said. But it wasn't true. She hadn't even known the ballet slippers existed this morning. Or had she? An outside observer would have noticed that there was a certain melancholy to Kat's retelling of her story, but Kat didn't feel sad. Instead, Kat felt that she...she should be happy, happy to give these slippers to someone. Jane, oblivious to this all, was simply thrilled with the slippers, but also obviously concerned. Slippers this special would certainly cost an arm and a leg, and she had neither to offer. And even though the ballet slippers were used, they were in amazing condition, practically looked and felt brand new. On cue, and as though Kat was reading Jane's mind, Kat delivered the best news of all. "I don't sell used slippers here. But you seem like a good person, and that you really love your daughter. I'll tell you what. Why don't you offer your daughter those, and if she doesn't like them, you can come back and "return" them and pick ones out with her? If she does like them, well then I want you to keep them. Fair enough?" Jane was nearly in tears. The generosity of this shopkeeper....it had been sometime since someone had been so nice. "Yes. Yes. A million times yes! Thank you. I think she will absolutely love these, and love that they have a story. How can I possibly repay you? They are perfect!" Kat was not entirely sure what had transpired that afternoon, but payment or not, she was happy to have a customer leave happy. 'No trouble at all. Like I said, I don't sell used slippers. But if you want to thank me, you can scurry out so I can close up and get home to my family." Jane nodded, thanked Kat about a dozen more times, and made her exit. It felt good to help someone, Kat thought. Kat went about closing up the shop, accounting the register, and shutting off the lights, before locking the door behind her. As she was making her way to her car, Kat was feeling good about herself. 'I really hope she enjoys those....' her mind trailed off. And that was the last time Kat ever thought of, or remembered those ballet slippers. 3 Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted March 11, 2023 Author Share Posted March 11, 2023 The Ballet Slippers - Chapter 1 Isabelle was sitting. She was exhausted, tired, sweaty, and felt gross. But at the same time, she felt great. Her head was hanging down over her knees, eyes closed, as she was catching her breath after her routine "Awesome work Iz." Isabelle heard a voice behind her call to her. She didn't have the energy to turn around, but mustered a polite "Thanks" with as much pep as she could offer. Danielle was one of her closest friends, and she wouldn't mind that Isabelle didn't turn to chit chat. Isabelle reflected on her afternoon. This had been the second-to-last showcase of the summer season before she went into her senior year at school. This, and the prior showcases this summer, would likely determine her role in the upcoming productions with her school company, and so the pressure was on. Fortunately, Isabelle felt she had risen to the occasion. Every detail of her routine had been flawless, and the ungodly amount of work she put in over the summer - scratch that - over the last ten years, felt as though it was all worth it. Isabelle picked her head up, lengthened her upper body, and worked on stretching her neck out. This showcase had been particularly demanding, with the coaches intervening often and requesting some odd movements. Isabelle knew better than to question directions; there was no backtalk at Higgins Academy. So, when she received a request, she responded with a curt nod, and responded to the adjustment. It didn't mean that her neck was happy for it. Satisfied with her stretching, Isabelle opened her eyes and took in the sight around her. The other girls that remained there were going about their post-performance routines; showering, packing bags, or stretching out like she had been. The room they sat in was less locker room and more spa, at least in her mind. The quality of the room always amazed Isabelle; beautiful wooden floors around the girls respective lockers, gorgeous stone countertops in the bathroom, and flawlessly colorful tiles on the ground. The room boasted a steam shower, a sauna, and private showers for each girl in her class to claim two each. The younger classes were typically larger, so they needed to accommodate greater numbers than they were in the graduating class. Over her shoulder, she could hear chatty Danielle talking to anyone who would lend her an ear. Isabelle turned to look over her shoulder and spotted her with Lola and a new girl....Victoria, she thought...who had joined to attend the summer program only. Lola and Danielle had been with Higgins as long as she had, and they were her closest friends. In a field that was as competitive as ballet, Isabelle, Dani, and Lola had somehow managed to be exceptionally encouraging, supportive, and happy for their respective successes. Isabelle was grateful to have avoided the more typically cutthroat classes. Even those classmates she was not exceptionally close with she still considered friends. They looked out for one another, and looked forward to seeing each of them hired to a great company when they graduated. Still seated, Isabelle started removing her ballet slippers off her feet. Normally it was the first thing she did after she was done her routine, but she had been so exhausted she just wanted to sit. Isabelle started undoing the ribbons running up her ankles, feeling the relief as each one fell off. One of a time, she crossed one foot over her knee, pulling the first slipper off to a sensation of utter relief. She placed both slippers on the floor next to her locker, leaned back on the bench with arms behind her to support her, and lifted her feet in the air. With a sigh of relief, she began wiggling her toes to let them stretch out from the confines of their former home in the platform. She could practically hear each toe chant 'Freedom!' as they spread out. Pushing herself back to a seated position, Isabelle proceeded to lift herself up and head to the bathroom sink to remove her makeup. On her way there she passed Dani and Lola, congratulating them on their performances as well, and confirming that yes, indeed, they would have their slumber party later that night. "We'll meet you at yours tonight around 7 Iz." Lola said as she wrapped up packing her bag, throwing the strap over her shoulder. "I have to go pick up Alex and head home for a bit. I'll see you soon." Isabelle nodded. She loved their slumber party tradition on Friday nights. It was sacred, and normally the best part of her week. This week was her turn to host, and while she was once embarrassed to bring her friends to her house, that concern had long faded. "Can't wait! Pizza tonight?" Isabelle suggested. Lola didn't provide an audible response, instead opening her mouth and rolling her eyes back in the most unflattering way possible as she lazily threw her head up and down in confirmation. Dani giggled and walked out behind Lola, waving goodbye as she did. Isabelle smiled, laughing to herself at her silly friend, and continued on to the bathroom sink. She stood in front of the mirror and started undoing her tight bun, letting her hair fall past her shoulders. She took a minute to look at herself in the mirror. Isabelle was by no means conceited. There were certainly prettier girls in her class -- 'everyone basically agreed Dani was the most beautiful girl they'd ever seen'-- but Isabelle was happy with how she looked. Isabelle's facial features were soft, and her face perhaps a little fuller than her classmates. She had naturally wavy blonde hair, the color resembling a warm, lush field of wheat, which she kept shorter in recent years. Her inquisitive green eyes stared back at her, tracing their way down from her small forehead, along her light-chestnut eyebrows, past her button nose, and resting on the dimple near the bottom of her short, heart-shaped chin. She began the process of wiping of her makeup, wiping her oval cheek, and down her long, thin neck. As she did, the remnants of faded childhood freckles emerged across her pink cheeks. She grabbed a wipe, and started removing the subtle pink lipstick from her bow-shaped lips, first upper, and then lower. Isabelle proceeded through her routine with the same precision and expertise she did her dance. Every movement was elegant, graceful, and purposeful. Every action accomplished one step, and she maneuvered this routine with the same attention to detail she practiced on stage. She folded each makeup wipe, making sure to use each and every inch of it so she wouldn't be wasteful, before dropping it through the cylindrical hole in the stone countertop, into the trash. After about ten full minutes, she used the last side of a wipe to clear off any mascara that remained under each eye, depositing the wipe in the bin. Isabelle made her way to the showers, grabbing a neatly folded towel off of the stack on a nearby shelf. She removed her black tights, which she had worn over her leotard today in an effort to embellish the length of her legs. Isabelle was by no means short, standing at a respectable 5 feet and 6 inches. But the lead in the fall performance called for greater length, and a few of the dancers had longer legs than her. Once off, she proceeded to undress and make her way into the shower, glad to be free from the confines of her sweaty clothes. Isabelle took her time soaking in the warm water. Her mom had texted her that she was running late doing an errand, so there was no rush to sit and wait in the lobby of the school. As she stood there, her mind wandered to the future. Isabelle was embarrassed to admit it, but letting her imagination take over in the shower had become more common of late. She would play scenes of her fulfilling her greatest dreams out as she soaped her body; dancing the Bolshoi Ballet one night, and the Paris Opera Ballet the next; being invited to the National Ballet of Cuba, and then receiving a standing ovation at Teatro La Scala after wowing the crowd; and her dream, to dance at the Royal Ballet, the King and Queen themselves in attendance to see the remarkable Iz, the lowly girl from meager means come to be the face of ballet! As the last of the shampoo fell from her hair, Isabelle recognized that none of this was possible. Even if she did sign on with a great company, no one performs at all of those venues in a career. Being part of a good company, and performing each night would be more than enough, and she would be proud of whatever she accomplished. But it was fun to play make believe, and she often did to help her cope with the stress that came with the life of a ballerina. Isabelle turned the water off, grabbed her towel, and began drying off. She stepped out of the shower and on to the slated bamboo shower mat in the dressing area, drying off each foot one at a time. She dried her hair off, and then proceeded to tie the towel around her supple vase-shaped body, making her way out of the dressing area and back toward her locker. Isabella grabbed her phone to check the time, and saw her mom messaged her that she would be there in 15 minutes. Isabelle put the phone down, and started working with a little more intent to be ready on time. She quickly, but efficiently, brushed her hair out, and got dressed in a pair of comfortable shorts and a long-sleeved shirt. She packed her bag, said goodbye to the two or three remaining classmates there, and made her way out to the front of the school. The school itself was a maze, an enormous complex that served as a pinnacle for students of the arts in the northeast region of the United States. While Higgins was primarily known for ballet and other schools of dance, in recent years it had extended its repertoire into other arts; painting, sculpting, and music. In order to accommodate its new practices, the school had bought large tracks of land, and the buildings extended for what felt like forever. As a career Higgins girl, Isabelle never had trouble navigating the halls, but you could always spot a nervous first year getting lost in the first few months of term. Next month, she would spot plenty. As she approached the exit, her phone started vibrating, indicating a call. She looked, saw it was her mom, and picked it up. "I'll be right out, I am at the front door" she told her mom, before hanging up and heading up. As she opened the door, the cool summer evening breeze grazed her face, and the smell of the local wildflowers filled her nostrils. It was a beautiful campus, and a beautiful night to boot, something Isabelle likely didn't appreciate enough. Like an eyesore, Isabelle immediately spotted her mom's banged up RAV-4 amongst the few remaining luxury cars idling in front of the school. She loved that car, even if it did have its quirks. After a long day, Isabelle was happy to see her mom, and skipped her way to the car. As she did, she noticed something odd. 'What is with that terrifying smile on my mother's face?.....oh god...what did she do' Isabelle asked herself, suddenly concerned for the fate of her apparently untimely demise. She loved her mother, but her mother was also extremely skilled at humiliating her in just the worst way sometimes. Isabelle slowed down.. 'If I run, I can never find out what this is.' It seemed like a solid option. But of course, that would never be the case. Isabelle reached for the car door, opening it up, and greeting her mom with a nervous smile. "Hi Mom. Er., everything okay?" She asked. "Of course it is sweetie!" Jane responded, with a renewed energy, "now get in here, I want to hear all about your performance! I am so proud of you!" Isabella relaxed, and got into the car. That was her mom - didn't even need to hear how she performed, and proud of her anyway. She wouldn't trade that for the world. Isabelle slipped into the seat, buckled her own seatbelt, and settled into the car, dropping her bag over the center console and into the backseat. She wanted nothing more to tell her mom how well she did, and so did exactly that. 'The car ride home isn't that long, and there is a lot to tell.' she thought to herself. 'Better get started.' 2 Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted March 11, 2023 Author Share Posted March 11, 2023 The Ballet Slippers - Chapter 2 Jane could only smile. Between the time Jane pulled out of her spot in front of the school, until Isabelle closed her bedroom door behind her, Isabelle hadn't stopped talking about her performance. Jane pulled up a kitchen stool out from under the kitchen island, careful to drag it so it wouldn't scratch the floor. She absentmindedly started sorting through the oft-disregarded pile of mail, took a breath, and started sorting it into piles based on her determination of whether it was trash, or trash that needed to be opened in case it wasn't trash. Based upon the lengthy recap, it really sounded like Isabelle had a great showing. Jane was happy that Isabelle focused on retelling her about her performance, and made no mention of anyone else's. Isabelle understood that all she could control was what she did - no one else. Jane knew it was important to her daughter to get a good role in the fall production, and based on what she was hearing, it sounded promising. Jane was nearly through the pile of mail when she heard a call from upstairs "Mooooommmm. Dani and Lola are going to come in an hour. Were going to get pizza, is that okay?" The noise startled her for a second. She missed the times her daughter actually came downstairs to talk to her, instead of this shouting from different floors. 'Teenagers will be teenagers,' she reminded herself. "No problem sweetie," she responded. "Thanks! Do you want any?" The question was innocent enough. That said, there were leftovers in the fridge that were only a day past when they should have been eaten, and if she opted out, one pizza would be enough for the three girls as opposed to needing two if she partook. "No thanks hunny!" she responded, just as she set the last piece of mail into the trash pile. "I'm going to throw out the garbage, I'll be back in a minute." Jane grabbed the mail pile she intended to discard, walked back through the hallway and toward the front door. Before she exited, she peered upstairs, catching the edge of Isabelle's door in her eyeline, and confirming it was indeed closed. The truth was that Jane had an ulterior motive to sort the mail. She wasn't expecting anything of importance, but she needed an excuse to return outside to get the nicely wrapped gift in the trunk of her car, and sneak it inside to surprise Isabelle with. In reality, Isabelle would never have asked a question if Jane had just gone back out, claiming to have forgotten something in the car. In fact, it would have been more plausible than needing to sort the mail, which drew a suspicious reaction from her daughter to begin with when Jane stopped at the communal mailboxes and asked her daughter to retrieve the contents of theirs. But Jane was nervous, and nervous mothers do odd things. Closing the front door behind her, Jane stepped out in the evening air. It was still warm out, but the sun had begun to set, and the evening light was transitioning into a lavender dusk. The thin clouds overhead were still visible, but few and far between. 'It would be a clear and starry night,' Jane thought to herself, a nice end to a long week. Jane stepped down the staircase leading to the front door of their rented townhouse. Jane felt lucky to have found a property so close to Isabelle's school. Normally, the houses in close proximity to the school were more akin to estates, well outside of Jane's means. Even the small houses were practically mansions But, there was a small area near the commercial buildings, restaurants, and bars in their quaint town where there was a series of cookie-cutter townhouses. The townhouses were simple, each one nearly-identical to the next. The facades were an off-white stone on the lower and middle floors, followed by paneling for the top level. The only difference between the homes was the color of the paneling, which Isabelle had selected for them: blue. A driveway led town to the bottom floor garage, which had a door leading into a room for storage, and a small den that Jane used as the family TV room. When Isabelle was younger, the room was filled with toys and dolls, but she had since spruced the room up to be more reflective of the fact that there were no longer kids in the house. The main floor of the house had a reasonable sized kitchen with an island, another family area, a half-bathroom, and a dining room big enough for a table for four off of the main hall. Off the kitchen was a sliding door leading outside to a small elevated patio in the backyard, and a staircase down to a small grass yard that Isabelle and her friends used to run around in, but now Jane used to keep a small bed of flowers against the wooden fence that wrapped around the yard. Back inside, a narrow, carpeted staircase led up from just in front of the front door to the second floor, which boasted Jane and Isabelle's bedrooms, and another small bedroom Jane used as an office. The primary bedroom had access to its own small bathroom, and another small one was out in the hall that Isabelle used. It was nothing special to an outsider, but for Jane and Isabelle, it was very special. It was home. Jane made her way to her car, beginning to doubt herself. 'I shouldn't have done this. I should have just brought Iz with me. Even the lady at the store said I should. Oh god...' Her mind was racing. She wasn't sure why this was so important to her. But it was. She wanted her daughter to know how proud she was of her, and that she supported her and all of her hard work. She felt guilty she was not involved in her daughter's dance like some other moms were, and if she could do anything to contribute just a smidgen, she wanted to at least do that. Jane popped the trunk open, and saw the beautifully wrapped gift. Jane was grateful Isabelle hadn't tried to put her bag in the trunk when she came to the car. Her plan would have been foiled by one silly oversight. She reached in and grabbed the gift, careful not to mess up the wrapping. Jane was extraordinarily clumsy, and if she didn't trip and send the gift sailing, it would be a miracle. Closing the trunk behind her, she nervously made her way back to the house. Butterflies were scattering around her stomach in every-which-way. Her heart was beginning to thump louder and louder in her chest. 'I can just bring them back. I never need to show her. And we can go back and pick new ballet slippers out together.' Jane was convinced this new idea was the right one. The last thing she wanted was for Iz to feel bad, and wear them just to make her happy. Yet, her legs kept moving her body forward, her arms kept carrying the gift, and her eyes were starring at the front door, directing her inside. As she arrived at the top of the steps, Jane reached her arm out, grasping the front door handle-set, her thumb frozen on the push down lever. This was the point of no return. In her mind, Jane had decided this idea was terrible. 'Go back!' Her mind was screaming at her, 'just go back! Put it back in the car.' But her body wouldn't listen. And, even though her mind was rebelling, something in her head, something deep and long forgotten, was telling her this was good, this was right. Perhaps that was what was directing her when she pressed her thumb down, walked into the house, and closed the door behind her. Jane turned to her left and went into the family area. There was a small couch with its back to the main hallway, flanked by two small end tables. A rectangular, dark wooden coffee table sat in front of the couch. To the left side, the wall on the front of the house has a large window looking out onto the street. A corn plant was in the corner of the room, which needed to be watered, and the other corner diagonally across from the couch had one of two armchairs Jane had inherited from her mother, the other in the opposite corner. The wall opposite the couch had built-in shelves with photos of family and friends lining them. Finally a fireplace sat across from the couch, which Jane probably had not lit in over 10 years. Jane walked around the far side of the couch, and placed the gift gently down between the couch and the coffee table. Her heart beat had not slowed down, and the butterflies had apparently recruited some moths to only congest the amount of flying going on in her stomach. But there was no going back. "Isabelle sweetie, can you come downstairs for a minute." "Why Mom? Dani and Lola are going to be here soon, I'm cleaning my room." Jane checked her watch, "It'll only be a minute. And I need to speak to you before they get here." Jane could practically hear the disappointment in the way Isabelle opened the door. "Fine...Coming now." Her daughter was not bratty by any means, but this ever so slight attitude was what just came with teenager territory, and Jane accepted it. Isabelle started descending the stairs one at a time, not that Jane could hear it. Between the carpet and her daughter's light foot, she basically floated down the stairs. But as she reached the bottom, the creak in the hall floor let her know Isabelle was downstairs. Jane sat on the far end of the couch, twisted so she could see her daughter come down. 'She has grown into a beautiful woman' Jane proudly thought. 'How did I get so lucky?' Jane patted the seat next to hear, and Isabelle rolled her eyes and came to sit down. 'Surely this was going to be some sort of lecturing about boys or drinking,' Isabelle concluded, and she made her way around the near side of the couch. As she did, her eyes diverted from her mother to a parcel on the floor: some sort of neatly wrapped gift. "Mom, what is that?" Isabelle asked. "Sit down. I want to talk to you." On command, Isabelle sat, now curious of what this was about. "Iz, I want to tell you that I am so immensely proud of you and everything you have accomplished." Jane had practiced this speech in front of a mirror at least 100 times at this point. "You have worked so hard for so many years at dancing, and you should be so incredibly proud of what you have accomplished. I have watched you blossom into an amazing young woman, and I couldn't be more proud of the person you have become. Despite every limitation that we may have had, you have persevered, and I know you are going to do great things. I know the road forward won't be any easier, but I know you can tackle whatever challenge you meet. And most importantly, I want you to know that I will always love you, and I will always be here for you, no matter what." Isabelle was speechless. She and her mom had always been close. And she could always go to her mom to talk about anything. But sitting here now, listening to this, Isabelle didn't know what to say...what to do. She was starting to get teary and wanted to stop it, so she started to speak "..Mom.." She started. 'Stop. Sweetie," Jane said, and she brushed her daughter's hair off of her face. "I probably got the wrong thing...but I wanted to get you something before you started the year as a gift, just to show you how proud I am of you. But if you don't like them, we can always exchange them. I sort of...went out of my comfort zone on this one." Isabelle was excited, but nervous by her mom's last remark. Her mind went back to her original thoughts when she came down the stairs. 'Oh god.....I hope she didn't buy me like, a sex thingy or something.' Her mom had recently driven her and Lola to school when they were talking about some boys in the back. Isabelle knew they had disclosed too much. 'I am so mad at Lola right now. I told her to shut it....' She recoiled 'If I open that, and its, its like....oh god...I will literally die.' But it couldn't be, right? Of course it wasn't....Isabelle was being ridiculous. Just as Isabelle was running through the possibilities in her mind, Jane picked up the gift and held it out for Isabelle to take. "Thanks mom, I am sure I will love whatever it is." Isabelle reached out and took the gift, her mom letting go. Immediately upon holding the gift, something strange happened. 'The gift felt...warm? What on earth...' Isabelle thought. Isabelle couldn't put her finger on it. It was the strangest sensation. Isabelle couldn't explain it. She didn't even understand it. She was just...holding something? Something about this gift felt....she didn't have a word to describe it. It felt...right? Yes. It felt right. Right? How the hell can a wrapped box with something in it... feel "right?" Isabelle snapped back to reality, realizing she was just holding the gift her mom handed her. Looking back at her mom, she could see she was nervously smiling, waiting for her to open it. Whatever was in here, Isabelle was going to pretend to love no matter what. Isabelle began unwrapping the exceptional wrapping, first taking the ribbon apart, making sure not to rip it. Then, Isabelle meticulously lifted the two pieces of tape on either side of the box, releasing the wrapping paper and setting it aside. The paper could probably be used again, she thought. What remained, was a box. A shoebox, of all things. Isabelle didn't need to turn the box lengthwise to decipher the name on the box - she had seen it plenty enough around the school. The unmistakable cursive name "Petrova's" emblazoned the top of the box. Petrova's was, without a doubt, the finest ballet store in the state, and likely one of the best in the country. "Mom....what on earth did you do..." Isabelle said, before realizing she was speaking out loud. They didn't shop at Petrova's...in fact they COULDN'T shop at Petrova's. As Isabelle was taking this all in, an overwhelming wave of guilt overtook her. She bought me ballet slippers.....she didn't realize...oh god. How was Isabelle going to tell her mother that Isabelle needed to be there to fit them. Isabelle looked back up at her mom, who was beaming with excitement and nervous energy. 'This is going to the be absolute worst thing I have ever had to do.' Isabelle thought, collapsing inside. 'Just open them...you can just tell her they don't fit later.' Content with her plan, Isabelle lifted the lid. What she saw was not what she expected. The slippers were.....stunning. I mean, they were really stunning. And if Isabelle were EVER to have purchased ballet slippers from Petrova's...I mean these would be them. How.....Her mother hadn't made a ballet purchase for her in years. How on earth could she possibly have known what Isabelle would want? Isabelle picked one slipper up to examine it more closely, almost as if looking to find somewhere her mom would have went wrong. But she was stumped. The slipper....I mean they still weren't fitted to her...but they almost looked custom made. How...how was this possible. Her face must have sold her out, because her mom took that moment to speak up. "I peppered you all summer for bits of information at a time to try and make sure I would get the right ones. Do you like them?? You seem to be smiling...Did I get it right?" Jane asked equal parts eagerly and desperately. Isabelle couldn't respond. She was still in shock. She didn't even remember talking to her mom once about ballet slippers, let alone several times across the summer. Maybe she had? "Mom...they are gorgeous. And they look....I mean they look perfect. They...they are the nicest ballet slippers I have seen in my life. I love them. I really do. I just.." Isabelle had to be careful with her next words. Her mom likely spent a fortune on these. She probably hadn't eaten lunch for six months. "I am just worried they may not fit right, ballet slippers can be so finnicky, but I really hope they do," she added at the end, even if just to give her mom false hope. "Well, try them on! Do it before your friends get here and we can find out." Her mom's excitement had only grown. This was the moment Isabelle was terrified of. She had planned to try them on alone, and just break the news to her mom slowly. Maybe tell her she danced in them once and they just weren't right. She didn't want to lie to her mom, but she didn't want to hurt her mom's feelings more, and so lying was probably justified. But here she was, with no legitimate excuse. Her mom had timed the present well, and they both knew her friends were still a little ways out. "Okay...that's a great idea...I'll...just go get a pair of tights so I can try them on properly" Why. Why on earth did she offer to do that. She just threw her best excuse out of the window. 'I'm not trying them on with tights mom, so its hard to know.' It was right there - right there for her. And then her friends would come, and she would have to "try" them later...What was wrong with her? It was as if she was hellbent on disappointing her mom. "Well hurry up then." Isabelle stood up, and headed to her room, returning a minute later with a pair of tights. She sat back down on the couch, removed her socks, and began pulling the tights on just high enough to try the new slippers. Her mom' smile was unwavering. "Lord please let this work." Isabelle wasn't one for prayer, but she would take any help now. "Please....please let them fit just...just get on the foot and we can get through the rest later.." Isabelle delicately took the first slipper, and pulled her foot up to it. Her arms were shaking Her heart was beating hard and fast. She was starting to feel a little lightheaded. "Maybe I could run with that - I'm sick?...no, then my friends couldn't come. And she knows I'm fine..." Just before trying to put it on, she looked up to the heavens one more time, took a deep breath, and...slipped the slipper on. Wait. It slipped on. It slipped on. Thank god. ... Isabelle wriggled her toes around. ... 'Thank god. They're too big.' 'THEY'RE TOO BIG!' Isabelle was basically having a dance party in her head. It's not my fault. I can tell mom they are just too big! Isabelle pulled her hand back and stretched out her leg. She thought she would be relieved that she would be justified in telling her mom the slippers didn't fit, even if she knew her mom would be sad to hear the news. But looking at the slipper on her foot, all she could feel was a pang of sadness. 'These are, without a doubt, the most beautiful ballet slippers I have ever seen.' Part of her, even though she knew it was impossible, wanted them to have fit perfectly. But the truth was there was a little too much room on the sides, and in the front. If she danced in these, she could really hurt herself. Isabelle continued to stare at the slippers longingly, eyes widening. Jane, having been sitting in silence through this process, could wait no longer. "Well?!?!? Do you love them? Are they great? Do they fit? Put the other one on. Put it on and see." The questions where rhetorical - Isabelle couldn't get a word in if she had tried. Reluctantly - or perhaps not - Isabelle repeated the process with her other foot. 'Yup....too big, same problem,' she confirmed. She was going to break her mother's heart. In truth, she was going to break her own. The worst part about this was, that when she told her mom they didn't fit right, she would need to go back to the store with her mom, buy another pair, and actually find out how much her mother had spent on these. Her heart stopped at the thought of hearing the saleswoman say the price, envisioning herself literally melting into the floor of the store as her mom handed a credit card - or likely several - over to pay for them. Isabelle still hadn't said a word. Despite her conclusion that the slippers did not fit, the prevailing thought in her head was much different: 'I do want these slippers. They are stunning. And despite being too big, they feel unbelievable. The craftsmanship was remarkable. and everything except the size was, well, perfect.' They were the most wonderful slippers she had ever seen, and she wanted them, wanted them to fit, wanted to dance in them, wanted them for herself. She was starting to...love them. Finally, she spoke. "Mom...I love them. they are beautiful." Her mom leaned forward, waiting, just waiting for the "but" clause to come. "Mom, I don't want you to be upset.." Here it was. The moment Jane dreaded. The moment, everything went wrong, and it was all her fault. Isabelle could see the sadness begin to take over her mom's face. No, not just her face, her whole body. Jane's shoulders began to slouch, her head dropped a bit, and her eyes...oh god her eyes were glistening. "You wouldn't have known mom, just because I usually buy my slippers, but its really really really" How many times was appropriate to say really? "..really, really hard to buy slippers for someone else. The measurements are all crazy, even when you have them right. And they aren't even consistent among the various shoe makers. And these are SO close. But they...they just feel a little bit too big." The last words came out of her mouth like a dagger. She was destroying her mom, and she knew it. She could tell just looking at her what this meant to her mom. Her mom really had tried to do something special for her, and Isabelle recognized that. Her mom always supported her dancing, but, since she really started taking it seriously as a career and professional craft, didn't really understand it. She was supportive, always. Just, she...well the truth was, and Isabelle knew it, she didn't have time to spend learning the intricacies of ballet. She had a single working mom, who had spent a lot of time working and taking care of her. She just...she did her best, and Isabelle loved that about her. Isabelle needed to come up with a plan. And she had one. "..But it could just be that I was dancing this afternoon, and they just feel different than what I was wearing." 'What did that even mean,' Isabelle thought? If anything, her feet would have been a little swollen, not have shrunk, after dancing. "Why don't I try them on later, or tomorrow again, and give them a really good try before we do anything? I really love them, and want to keep them!" The last part would satisfy her mom. And it did. Just like that, her mom seemed to relax, and her smile returned. "That sounds great sweetie, why don't you go put them upstairs before your friends come over." Isabelle quickly took the slippers off, and delicately placed them back in their box. The, Isabelle and Jane stood at the same time, embraced in a long, emotional, and comforting hug. As they were holding each other, Isabelle whispered a heartfelt gratitude to her mom "thanks Mom. They really are beautiful." Isabelle let go, took the box with her slippers, and headed up to her room to put them away. Back downstairs, Jane took some time to let her breathing come back to normal. She sat back down on the couch, and went the process of decompressing what had just unfolded. 'It went about as well as she could have hoped for, she reminded herself. Well, maybe not as well as she hoped for, but as well as she realistically could have expected. She knew better. And even the salesperson...Kat - that's what it was - even she told her that she shouldn't buy slippers for Isabelle.' And the truth was, she hadn't. These slippers had been a gift. But if needed, she was ready to go back and exchange them and actually buy a pair that fit Isabelle properly. And who knows? Like Isabelle said, these might actually fit. Her daughter's reasoning seemed plausible enough, and she wouldn't lie to her mom. Isabelle wasn't like that. Mind still decompressing from the stressful evening, nay, stressful day, Jane sat back and finally relaxed, only to be prompted by another bodily reminder - her stomach was growling. She was hungry, very hungry in fact. 'All this stress has amounted to quite the workout' She thought. And just like that, Jane picked herself up off the couch, and headed to the fridge to start warming some questionable leftovers. Isabelle's friends would be over soon, and she would do her best to make herself sparse. 'Better eat quick.' 3 Link to comment
kerry Posted March 11, 2023 Share Posted March 11, 2023 Are you Billy Elliot by any chance? This story is so realistic that it seems almost incredible that a 29-year-old male wrote it! Especially one who says he is a "newer writer"! I have no clue what the ABDL connection will be here, but I don't even care: you've constructed a believable Gilmore Girls relationship and I love it! Of course, Lorelei would never have done this. She'd somehow have known it was impossible. But you have some magic happening here, so anything goes! 1 Link to comment
BabySofia Posted March 11, 2023 Share Posted March 11, 2023 This is a great start to this tale, and I'm genuinely curious where those slippers will take her! I hope they size down to her later! I have a feeling they are a magical gift that should bring both some abilities... and maybe some other issues? Looking forward to more! Great writing! 1 Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted March 12, 2023 Author Share Posted March 12, 2023 4 hours ago, kerry said: Are you Billy Elliot by any chance? This story is so realistic that it seems almost incredible that a 29-year-old male wrote it! Especially one who says he is a "newer writer"! I have no clue what the ABDL connection will be here, but I don't even care: you've constructed a believable Gilmore Girls relationship and I love it! Of course, Lorelei would never have done this. She'd somehow have known it was impossible. But you have some magic happening here, so anything goes! You're very kind. I am glad you're enjoying it. I don't write much for pleasure, mostly for work. So I really consider myself an amateur fiction writer. I am glad you are along for the journey, and I hope the story does not disappoint! Link to comment
Anton Posted March 12, 2023 Share Posted March 12, 2023 Great start. You have a wonderful way with words and have really done a great job of setting the stage. Your descriptions of what each of the women were going through and processing in their heads was very entertaining and helped the reader really get into the spirit of the story. I hope you enjoy the writing process and much as we do reading the results. 1 Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted March 12, 2023 Author Share Posted March 12, 2023 32 minutes ago, BabySofia said: This is a great start to this tale, and I'm genuinely curious where those slippers will take her! I hope they size down to her later! I have a feeling they are a magical gift that should bring both some abilities... and maybe some other issues? Looking forward to more! Great writing! I have been sitting here and thinking about how to respond to this for a bit, and can't figure it out. Truthfully, I quite literally cannot believe YOU are reading MY story. Your stories have been such a great comfort to me. It is a privilege to have you on this journey. I welcome any advice and input. Thank you. Link to comment
BabySofia Posted March 12, 2023 Share Posted March 12, 2023 5 minutes ago, Olympiczero said: I have been sitting here and thinking about how to respond to this for a bit, and can't figure it out. Truthfully, I quite literally cannot believe YOU are reading MY story. Your stories have been such a great comfort to me. It is a privilege to have you on this journey. I welcome any advice and input. Thank you. Aww, I'm just a regular person, no reason to feel that way! I'm glad to hear though that my stories have been a comfort. ? My only advice is keep up whatever you are doing. The reader in me would love for you to hurry and post the next part, but however long you need to put the next part up is worth waiting for! It's nice to see a new piece of writing as good as this! ? 2 Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted March 12, 2023 Author Share Posted March 12, 2023 The Ballet Slippers - Chapter 3 "Hmphhmmm.....and of cose...." Dani gulped the huge bite of of pepperoni slice, and continued "Of course, Louise went up to the board," She stopped to slurp down some soda. "She went up to the board, and she has no idea how to solve the equation either. So what should she have done? I would have done the same. She just started writing numbers, line by line, and variables. Professor Lynch was just standing behind her, silently judging. As Lynch does. I would have panicked too!" "Yeah, I totally get it" Lola said in agreement, "It kind of sucked for her. But she could have done a better job pretending she knew what was going on. I mean at one point, instead of normal variables, she just started drawing shapes and squiggly lines. I swear one of them looked like an ice cream cone" she started chuckling. "I WISH I could have seen Lynch's face, shame he was watching her work." "I was just happy he didn't call me up." Isabelle chimed in. Mathematics was one of her weaker subjects, and she still got nervous when she was asked to solve problems in front of the class. Isabelle cared about her traditional courses, and she worked hard at keeping up in mathematics. But she struggled. "I could feel her pain up there." Her friends nodded. They knew she didn't like that class. Dani and Lola had arrived a little later than usual, just shy of 8 PM. It turned out that after picking her brother up, and heading home for a bit, Lola needed to wait to drive him to a friend's house before she could pick Dani up and head over. Dani, it turned out, despite the delay, was not ready when Lola arrived - she never was - and so their arrival was delayed more than usual. But eventually they arrived, and the girls continued their Friday night tradition. The girls were reminiscing on last years term end classes, laughing about the more outrageous moments that took place over their junior year. Last year had been particularly stressful, between their dance obligations and standardized testing for university, depending on if they decided to go now or later. Each of them had a successful year, and their test scores had been better than expected. That said, they each agreed they were looking forward to less strenuous academic year. Isabelle was chomping down the last few bites of crust on her slice, leaning over the kitchen island. In front of Isabelle, her two friends were seated on the kitchen island stools, sipping away at their soda. They had finished their slices maybe 15 minutes earlier. Isabelle was a notoriously slow eater, at least compared to her friends. The pizza delivery arrived around 8:45, and Isabelle's mom actually treated them to dinner, which was sweet. Isabelle knew it meant more when she did - she and mom rarely got takeout. Between that and the present, Isabelle was feeling rather indebted to her mom. After greeting her friends, her mom made herself sparse, and went into her room, no doubt reading a book. She seemed lonely to Isabelle. She would have to do something nice for her. As she was finishing, the conversation turned to what movie they would watch that night, not that they would pay too much attention. Most of the time, they missed half of the movie while they chatted away. The movie was really more for background noise. Isabelle swallowed her last bite, just as Dani and Lola had narrowed the choices down to two; "17 Again," or "13 Going on 30," two movies they had probably watched together more times than they could count. Isabelle really enjoyed both, though she couldn't really explain why. The concept of each just made her smile. Isabelle cleaned off each girls' plate, and put them on the drying rack next to the sink. The girls proceeded to head upstairs to change into their pajamas, before heading to the basement to turn on their movie. Isabelle really loved these nights. The summer program, and even their school weeks, were so demanding, that they really didn't get to spend much quality time together. Sure they saw each other all day, but they were so focused on their courses and dance, they didn't really get to talk to one another. On top of that, Isabelle usually worked most weekends, reducing her free time even further. That was why these Friday nights were so important to her. Her friends understood that too. She was lucky to have them. As they were climbing the stairs together, Lola turned around with a mischievous face on, "the movie really is irrelevant D, since alllllll Iz will want to talk about is Avvvvveryyy." Isabelle went bright red at that remark, as Dani let a long echoing "oooooooooooh" out. "Something our sweet Iz has been holding back, has she????" Isabelle was now crimson. Though she was an exceptionally confident dancer, she really did embarrass easily. "Shut up guys...my mom can definitely hear you from here.." Isabelle immediately recognized her choice of words was poor, and her friends took full advantage. "OH YES. We wouldn't want your MOM to find out that you have a secret BOYFRIIIIIEND!" Lola was basically shouting. "A BOYFRIEND?" Dani responded mockingly, "IZ, you have a BOYFRIEND?! Why EVER didn't you tell us!" Dani and Lola thought they were exceptionally cleaver. But that wasn't the point. Right now, Isabelle wanted to just die. "I. Am. Going. To. Kill. You. Both." Isabelle gritted through her teeth. The truth was, and contrary to her friends mocking tones, Avery was not her boyfriend. But that didn't mean she didn't want him to be. She just...just didn't know what to do. And she was looking forward to asking her friends for advice, albeit it would now be impossible to do so without affirming their mockery. That didn't mean she wanted her mother to know anything yet, let alone talk to her about it. "Shut up both of you and just get into my room. Her friends continued to laugh, obviously very proud of their childish tactic. At the top of the stairs, the girls made a right hand turned to head into Isabelle's room. Isabelle, trailing behind her friends, stopped at the top, peeking at her mom's door, trying to hear if she could discern a sound. Had she heard? Her friends had been obnoxiously loud, there was no way she hadn't. But then again, it was nicer to imagine that the bedroom door was thicker than it was, and that the enchanting novel her mom was no doubt reading was so invigorating, she missed the "Avery" remarks. Isabelle turned back, and headed toward her room, making a left into her bedroom after her friends. She was glad she had cleaned up a bit before her friends came. Her room was not large, and when it was cluttered, it felt really small. Against the back wall of the house, her room was centered on the wall. flanked by two small IKEA end tables. Her room was exceptionally bright during the day, courtesy of the two windows just off center and to the side of each table. Hanging down from a bar above each window were split pastel-pink drapes, which contrasted against her light cream-colored walls. On the near side wall, there was a dresser where she stored most of her t-shirts, undergarments, and big sweatshirts, and other clothes that simply didn't fit into her closet. Against the far wall was a small white desk and patterned swivel chair where did most of her work. On the desk were notes, choreography, and timings for her performance earlier that day, and it was not unusual for the desk to be rather messy. On the top shelf of her desk were framed photos of her with her mom, and of course with Dani and Lola and some of her other classmates. Tracing her eyes to the right, Isabelle spotted Lola in the corner, in front of the slatted door to her small closet where she kept as much of her clothing as she could hanging. Lola had pulled her pajamas out of her bag, and was changing into the matching silk set. Isabelle couldn't help but notice how beautiful Lola was. Unlike Dani and Isabelle, Lola had a bit more...well, bust, which made her success at ballet even more impressive. Most girls at that level were less...what's the word...endowed in the breast department, but Lola managed fine all the same. Dani was sitting cross legged on her bed, having discarded some of the numerous colorful (and in Dani's mind, apparently obstructive) pillows to the floor. She was holding "Rabitty," the uncreatively named stuffed rabbit that sat as staple on Isabelle's bed since she was a child. Rabbity had certainly seen better days. Her full sized mattress had simple, white sheets on them, and the cream colored four poster bedframe was accented with her intricately designed off white and greyish comforter. Isabelle joined Dani on her bed, but not before picking up one of the eight pillows on the floor and throwing it at her, gently of course/ "Aghh!," she laughed, re-directing it away. "There is not room on this bed with your BAZILLION pillows Iz." Isabelle threw herself stomach first onto the bed, clutching a different pillow that had been earlier discarded by Dani. "I like them! Not all of us sleep flat on our back without a pillow like a vampire!" They all laughed. "Get moving you two, I want to start the movie." Lola, at her core, was punctual. "Fine....but I need to borrow pajamas." Dani chimed in. Lola exasperated, "You were 20 minutes late. How, HOW could you have possibly forgotten your pajamas. Your bag is massive," she said, pointing at what as a rather large overnight bag. "That's because its full of secrets! I couldn't fit pajamas in there," she giggled. "Iz, where can I find a set?" Isabelle was not shocked at her forgetful friend. "secrets my ass" she thought. "I keep the summer sets in the plastic drawer at the foot of the closet. Go check there." Isabelle proceeded to grab her own set from behind her pillow "No need for new ones, I only wore these once since the last wash," and proceeded to get up to change. Unfortunately for her, that wasn't going to happen. "Ummm..EX-CA-UUUSSEE ME." Lola, who had made her way toward the door to Isabelle's bedroom, and Isabelle, standing on the other side of her bed, now bottomless in anticipation of getting into her pajamas, both turned to see Dani standing in front of the closet, now facing her friends, with a look of feigned disgust on. Isabelle had stopped, with a curious look on her face, looking back and forth between Dani and Isabelle "A little birdy has been keeping secrets," she said pointing her finger, and waving it out at Isabelle, as though she was lecturing her, and walking toward he slowly. "What on earth was she talking about?" Isabelle thought. What did she - Before she could muster a denial for, well for something, Dani relieved her of the mystery. "If I am not mistaken," finger now redirected at the closet, arm stretched out behind her, "and I never am on such matters, that is a Petrova's shoebox in that closet. When, dare I ask, did this shocking occurrence take place?" Lola, now equally invested in this breaking news, turned to her friend, and added "Well, well, well. This is indeed news. We have been here for over an HOUR and as it turns out, you have been withholding from us." In truth, Isabelle didn't want to tell her friends about her mother's gift. She had had every intention to not reveal the gift for precisely this reason: her friends would make an entirely appropriate and big deal about it, Isabelle did not get to shop at Petrova's. Her friends knew that. She did not have ballet slipper, leotards, tutus, or custom outfits from Petrova's. She probably couldn't even afford tights there. Hell, she had never held a Petrova's bag before, let alone worn a pair of their slippers. Shopping there was a special occasion even for the likes of Dani and Lola, let alone the inexistence of such occasions for Isabelle. Isabelle wasn't worried her friends would be jealous. Rather, her friends would be excited for her. That was the last thing Isabelle wanted. The color left Isabelle's face, body, ermmm...well it felt like every drop of blood left her body. Truly, she was just mad at herself. Why would she tell Dani to go into her closest? She practically shoved the shoebox in there at the sound of her doorbell going off. How could she be so foolish. She should have directed Dani to her winter pajamas...then SHE would be the one in a hot sweat...instead of Isabelle in a cold one. This was not something she wanted to deal with tonight. Tonight...tonight was meant for fun, and friends, not stress and guilt. Alas, there was no avoid the situation now. She would have to be delicate with this. "I was going to wait to show them to you guys Monday..." Dani's jaw was still resting firmly on the floor of her bedroom. Meanwhile, Lola had shifted back toward Dani, arms crossed, and managed a little hair flip. Her eyes never once left Isabelle, a combination of disappointment and intrigue. Isabelle, meanwhile, had shrunk from a solid 5 foot 5 inches, to about, well five inches, or at least that was how it felt. Between the two of her friends, she knew she would have to cough up substantially more. "My mom got them for me as a gift..." Isabelle continued, '...for senior year. She said she wanted to do something special. Wanted to get me something nice...nice for our performances this year." Isabelle stopped for a minute. Her friends were now smiling, but she still felt bad. She could tell they wanted nothing more than to open the shoebox - Isabelle could see Dani's fingers practically curled around the lid. "I was going to tell you guys, its just.." What could she possibly say? What could she say to justify keeping this secret from her friends? Last week, Dani told them about the new ribbons - RIBBONS - she put on her slippers. And then it hit her. Finally. Finally she used her head, for the first time, tonight. "But the truth is, I'm probably going to have to return them, so I didn't want to get you excited for nothing." The fact was, that was sort of the truth. The slippers really didn't fit right. But she saw the look on her friends faces - guilt. Isabelle knew what they were thinking, that she would have to return them because her family couldn't afford them. Isabelle wasn't sure they would be wrong either. But she could relieve them of their guilt. "You see, they don't fit. Mom went and bought them as a surprise - I wasn't there." Her friends faces shifted quickly from guilt, to understanding. They knew Jane wasn't the most, well, versed in these things. And plus, this excuse made their friend look much better, and they were willing to hang on to that. Nevertheless, Dani only had one thing on her mind. "That's a bummer, but maybe they'll understand and take them back? Still, there's no reason we can't LOOK at them, no?" Her left hand was already lifting the lid. She wasn't waiting for a response. Then Lola had to chime in "And we really won't be able to appreciate them in the box, now will we. But Dani! I don't have any tights with me? Oh who oh who could try these on for us?" Lola asked rhetorically. They were going to get their revenge, Isabelle realized. Dani picked up on the cue immediately. "Lola you're right, and by golly, I didn't bring any tights EITHER. If ONLY we knew someone, anyone who had ballet tights, and could try on these slippers in this box!" With the last word, Dani hoisted the lid off the shoebox, dramatically turning her head toward the ceiling, as though she was ending a performance to a standing ovation. Isabelle had no choice. "You two are just the worst." But they barely heard her. Instead, they were entirely focused on the contents of the now open box. They didn't screech. Nor did they squeal. Instead, they were silent. They were in awe, both frozen in the moment. Slowly, Lola lifted her head up, eyes back to Isabelle. And she just whispered - "Iz....These are." Lola stopped. "They're stunning. Truly. These are gorgeous." Their taunting had fully dissipated. They were both just starring at the slippers, and....were reminded of the problem. Dani spoke, "Iz..I'm sorry they didn't fit. That's.....that's upsetting. Really, Iz." She was too often reminded how lucky she was to have the friends she did. "Thanks guys..." It was hard, being reminded how unfortunate this was. "You don't have to try them on if you don't want.." Lola added. Isabelle sighed. The mood for the whole night had been ruined by what should have only been a night of laughter and smiles. Isabelle had to put an end to this gloom and doom mood. "Don't be silly! What fun would it be if we didn't at least see them ON someone?!?!!" she added a dramatic wink and pose as she did. "Really quick - and then the movie!" Her girlfriends seemed to have kicked their sullen moods, suddenly filled with giggles and smiles. And so it was, the bottomless Isabelle set her PJS aside, and went over to the dresser to grab a set of light-pink tights. She hoisted them on ('boy I just want to wear my PJs," she thought), and giggly-skipped over to Dani and Lola who were practically bouncing with excitement. She reached out toward Dani to grab the slippers, and.. And the same thing happened. That feeling. The heat. The feeling of....of rightness. She tried to recoil her hand but....but her hand wouldn't stop. It kept getting closer and closer to the slippers. Before she knew it, the slippers, and ribbons dangling down, were in her hands. If her friends were "ooo-ing" and "ahh-ing" before, now, now they could see the entire slipper, and the compliments were endless as Isabelle sat down to put them on. Isabelle sat down to put the slippers on, her friends looking on. It was disheartening to have to go through this again. The first time was hard for another reason - she had to disappoint her mother. This time, this time it would be bad for another reason. This time it would be about the slippers. She would have to bear the brunt of having to give them up, and suddenly, that sadness was very real. She had to keep it together in front of her friends though. I mean, she wasn't going to spend all night bei- What the hell. What on earth. ... ... Why. Not Why. How. How? ... How did the slipper fit. It didn't. Well, I mean....it hadn't. Just before, they didn't. But now. She must have - must have been... Wrong. She had been wrong. She had to have been. But she wasn't. They were...big. And wide. But it couldn't be. Because now. Now they...they weren't. Instead....I mean...They fit. Not just fit, they...they... They fit perfectly. And not just perfectly. She had never had a ballet slipper that fit better. It was...it was an inexplicable feeling. The fit around her foot wasn't just write. Rather, it was as if she was walking on a clouds, her foot never more comfortable. her toes were cool, sitting on a bed of comforting gel. Her arch...it nestled against what felt like a bed of pillows. Her heel...her heel was being massaged as she lifted her foot off of the ground. "What on earth is this....is this foot heaven?" Had the slipper....shrunk? No...No that was ridiculous. Wait. Did her foot shrink? That was a concerning thought. But equally insane. What. Was. Happening. Her shock must have been apparent on her face, and she looked up at her friends. "They fit" Isabelle said. It sounded stupid to say out loud. But she was truly in shock. Her friends repeated her statement. "They DO fit,' followed by Lola's "what are you crazy? Of course they fit. They fit perfectly." Dani, not to be outdone, "Do you not know when a ballet slipper fits or not? Iz..They are GORGEOUS on you." Isabelle agreed. They were. They were stunning. And they fit. How did they fit? Why did they fit? What the hell was going on. "You NEED to wear those on Wednesday. Smith is going to FREAK when he sees you perform in those." Dani's suggestion was a good one, one Isabelle hadn't needed to consider when the slippers didn't fit, like 90 minutes earlier. "I guess...I mean I've never performed in them. I'll need to break them in I suppose." Dani, of course, was referring to the annual showcase that the Higgins ballet students who were sophomores and above participated in. In large part, it determined how important of a role you got in the fall or spring ballets that year. Of course there was always room to improve and move up to a better role based on your studies, but everyone knew the showcase was the biggest factor. Isabelle had done well in them in her past, but leading roles were - with rare exceptions - almost exclusively reserved for seniors. The showcase was on everyone's mind, especially in this room. Her friends looked at one another, smiled, and then both looked back at her. "Iz. You deserve these. We're so happy for you." Lola said sweetly. "You really do" added Dani, "I'm glad your mom was able to get these for you. They are the most stunning ballet slippers I have ever seen. No one deserves them more." The guilt, the sadness, concern, hell - the stress - it all went away. She was the luckiest girl in the world, because she had the greatest friends in the world. And, it didn't hurt that she did have the most gorgeous ballet slippers too. Gorgeous - and maybe more. ... Oh well. She had a movie to watch. 5 Link to comment
BabySofia Posted March 12, 2023 Share Posted March 12, 2023 Now the question is did they shrink, or did her foot change sizes...? I'm sure over time you'll reveal that! Again, very enjoyable writing to read! 1 Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted March 12, 2023 Author Share Posted March 12, 2023 11 hours ago, Anton said: Great start. You have a wonderful way with words and have really done a great job of setting the stage. Your descriptions of what each of the women were going through and processing in their heads was very entertaining and helped the reader really get into the spirit of the story. I hope you enjoy the writing process and much as we do reading the results. I missed your comment yesterday! Thank you for your kind words. I am doing my best to write the kind of story I would want to read. I am happy you are enjoying it thus far! 1 Link to comment
Kotatsu Posted March 12, 2023 Share Posted March 12, 2023 There's something about ballet that fits here on this site. I was just reading another ballet story (the latest from Andlat4) and imagine my surprise when I find that someone has been crafting a ballet story here too. What have written so far has been equal parts tense and relaxing, your characters feel like they live their own lives and we are watching a snippet of it and I can't wait to see where you go from here. 1 Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted March 12, 2023 Author Share Posted March 12, 2023 The Ballet Slippers - Chapter 4 A single ray of light hit Isabelle in the face. "...Go away..." She grumbled.. It didn't. In fact, that single ray of light began expanding, her facing feeling a full blast of the morning sun's warmth, as she struggled to open her eye to identify the source of the intrusion. Batting her eyelashes several times in order to adjust to this afront to her cornea, she noticed the basement window drape had not been fully shut, an obvious oversight she and her compadres had overlooked in their late night shenanigans. Isabelle rolled over - or intended to at least - only to realize she was twisted up in the covers. In front of her, having taken the position of little spoon to her big, was her traditionally bigger spoon friend Lola, laying peacefully on her side with her back to Isabelle, assuming the little spoon last night. Lola's thick black hair was an opposing force against the morning light, which danced around each cool, midnight stand falling from her head. Lola, had pulled her long, muscular legs up into an almost fetal position to ensure her feet hadn't been hanging off of the edge of the pull out bed. Isabelle, now stretching her legs out in order to wake them up, was about the length of the bed itself, so it was not surprising that Lola needed to scrunch up a bit. Isabelle reached her arms out of the covers in order to lengthen her body, taking a long, deep breath, and accepting defeat at the hands of the penetrating light particles that had breached their fortress of solitude. Behind her, in a heap of covers and comforters, Dani was presumably buried alive. Whereas Lola and Isabelle were stacked neatly side by side, Dani likely assumed forty-eight different positions through the night, twisting and turning like a creature out of a horror film. She was a figgiter, through and through. It was always ironic to them how she slept, since Dani could hold a dance position still longer and straighter than either of her two bunkmates. Half of her friend, it appeared, was on the bed, and another half on the "L" shape of the couch that did not pull out into a bed. In fact, the only evidence she was still in the room was the twisted mess of light copper hair emerging from about 11 different directions under a sheet. "Dani would regret not having tied her hair up unlike she and Lola," Isabelle thought. "Or more like, she won't have any regrets at all." Isabelle smiled to herself. She was happy. And if she could freeze any moment in time, it would be this. That was, until Lola released a little *toot* in her direction, and Isabelle couldn't do anything but laugh. "Gross!," She feigned, "I gotta get out of the blast zone here." Her smile had not dissipated. With the precision and delicacy of a surgeon, Isabelle assessed the the landscape of covers she was in. She gently lifted her right side, releasing a bulky cover she had tucked under her side, and freeing it out behind her. She twisted her feet, dancing, lifting, and leaping them through the knots she and her friends had messily and haphazardly tied in their revelry. Finally, she felt enough freedom to wriggle her way upwards, and gently threw her legs over the top of the couch, and was upright! Isabelle maneuvered toward the window at the front side of the house, and pulled the curtain across the window properly, putting an end to her new sworn enemy that arose her from her slumber. The darkness returned, setting over the room. Satisfied her friends could sleep comfortably, she turned around and set about going upstairs to plan out her day, and hopefully have some coffee. Isabelle tiptoed up the stairs as respectfully as she could, avoiding the creaky spots on the top few stairs she had learned to navigate. Gently, she turned the silver knob to the basement door, releasing it and sliding it out toward the back of the kitchen, gracefully leaping over the last, creakiest, and noisiest step on the staircase. Feet on the main level, she turned back toward the door and eased it shut. "Didn't make a noise. The LAST thing I want to do is to wake up Dani." Her friend was not a morning person. Making her way into the kitchen, she saw her mom moving around the kitchen, and dressed for work. The clock on the microwave read 8:35. "Morning sweetie! Have fun with your friends last night? I'm surprised you're up so early! I practically heard you guys up all night." A twinge of guilt hit Isabelle. "Sorry mom...I hope we weren't keeping you up." She went and greeted her mom with a big morning hug, remembering she should be especially nice to her today, and for the foreseeable future. Jane, taken aback by her daughter's morning affection, took a moment, but returned the affection. She thought about making a remark, but then thought better of it "better to not make a point, else she'll regret doing it" she reminded herself. Instead, Jane released the hug and looked down at her daughter's eyes "I am going to head off to work in a few minutes. I took another Saturday shift after JoAnne dropped out yesterday afternoon. I shouldn't be more than a few hours, so I'll see you before you leave tonight, okay?" Isabelle nodded. That was right - she had agreed to babysit for the Williams family down the block, in the furthest townhouse, tonight. "Okay mom, no problem." Her nostrils were filled with the sweet, sweet scent of roasted coffee beans, and that was all that could occupy her mind. The drip coffee pot was sitting on the "warm setting," the tin of off-brand ground coffee sitting on top of the machine. "I'm going to grab a mug of coffee while they sleep and well just hang out a bit before they head out." Jane nodded approvingly. Isabelle headed over the cupboard housing their numerous novelty and non-matching mugs, while her mother listed off some chores for her to do while she was out. "It would really help if you ran an emptied the dishwasher while I'm going hunny, if you don't mind." Opening the cupboard, she recognized why - they were almost out of clean dishes. Isabelle had noticed that the night before, but not paid attention to the dire coffee mug situation. The first shelf was empty, and she would need to resort to one of the top shelf, backup mugs. "Those are never as fun" she pouted, "but desperate times, desperate times Iz." She looked up, identifying a mug destined for her morning elixir. Popping onto her toes, Isabelle stretched out her arm, swinging her index finger by the mug to scoop it by its handle, and falling back onto her feet. Odd. She missed. Isabelle looked back up, and then back at her empty hand. "I don't normally have issues reaching that. Perhaps the mugs are set further back on the shelf than usual." So up on her toes again, Isabelle made a second swipe at her mug. She missed again. The mug was too far. "Who the hell put those so far back on the shelf?" She thought to herself. "Wait...I unloaded the dishwasher. I literally put those there." Jane, recognizing her daughter's shortcoming, came over and deftly took down three mugs, without much thought about it. "For your friends too," she said, placing all three on the counter. Isabelle's concern about the mg was erased at the reminder that coffee was available, and she would have some. "And do check your slippers again sweetie," Jane anxiously reminded her daughter. In truth, Jane was up all night worrying about them, and feeling guilty that her gift was simply not right. "I'll have some time tomorrow to go to the store if you want to get a different pair. I'm free all morning, but have to run errands in the afternoon." Isabelle was stirring some sugar into her coffee, which fortunately for her was already on the counter. "How could I have forgotten to tell mom! She's going to be so happy." she thought. "Actually mom, Dani and Lola saw the box last night, and asked me to try them on for them. You won't believe it, but they fit absolutely perfectly! I don't know why I thought they were big downstairs, but they fit and felt great. Better than great. In fact, they were incredible. If....if its alright..." Isabelle was reminded of what was likely an extravagant price, her excitement overtaken by guilt, "I mean, if you're sure its okay....I think...I'd like to, you know...to keep them." Isabelle practically whispered the last words. Whatever Jane was expecting this morning, Isabelle's statement was not it. Jane was ecstatic. "Of course sweetie! Of course you keep them! Don't be ridiculous. I am so glad they fit. I mean, the lady at the store, she told me they wouldn't...told me there would be no chance. But if you're sure, if you're really really sure, than yes, of course! I just don't want you to pretend they fit if they don't!" Isabelle was smiling ear to ear. "They really do fit mom. And I will keep them." Isabelle had never been so happy. "Even Dani and Lola thought they were the most stunning slippers they had seen mom." She added. Her mom would be proud to know they weren't just special slippers for the likes of Isabelle, but even Dani and Lola appreciated them. Isabelle spent the next few minutes chatting with her mom, selectively letting in her on some of the conversational points from last night. She wouldn't divulge the "goods," but shared enough to keep her mom up to date on her and her friends' lives. She was close with her mom, even if she didn't want to share everything. After about ten minutes, Jane tipped the last bit of coffee into her mouth, and announced "I'm heading out. Please remember the dishes sweetie. And enjoy your Saturday. I'll see you this afternoon." Her mom kissed her on the cheek, and set off out the door. Left alone for the first time, Isabelle pulled up a stool and reflected on the last day. She was ecstatic that the slippers fit, so much so that she practically forgot they ever didn't fit. At this moment, she counted herself the luckiest girl in the world. Her friends would be sleeping a little longer, so she might as well go about her routine until they woke up. She pulled the local newspaper her mom had been reading over to her end of the counter, and flipped to the "games section," navigating to the Sudoku. While Isabelle was not particularly great at mathematics, she did enjoy this number puzzle over the last few years. At first, she really struggled with them, but at some point last year she really got the hang of them. And so, she went about inserting numbers, square by square, column by column, row by row. About 30 minutes later, she looked up and saw the clock as 9:23. "Pretty good time," she told herself. Her coffee finished, and her body informing her it was time to use the facilities, she made her way upstairs and into her bathroom. Coffee seemed to have a rather, errrr, immediate effect on her internal plumbing. Isabelle pulled her shorts down, sat down on the toilet and went about making a "deposit" as her mother embarrassingly liked to call it. "GA-ROSSSS MOM" was Isabelle's standard response to that parental remark. Even though she had obviously used the bathroom in the same house as her friends, she was always more comfortable going in private, and she was glad her friends were still asleep. Even when she slept at Dani or Lola's, she made a point of finding one of the many remote bathrooms that the other girls wouldn't use, if the need arose. Isabelle took the opportunity to pee as well. She wiped, got up, closed the lid and flushed, and went to wash her hands. "Evergreen Christmas? Sor t of early for the Christmas soap mom.." she thought, pumping the foam into her hands. It did smell good though. Isabelle proceeded to wash her face, brush her teeth, and take care of her regular skin care routine, before grabbing the "Poo-Pouri" on the stand behind the toilet. There were no remote toilets in her house, and her friends kits were already laid out in here. "Better clean the scene of the crime" she thought. Content with herself, Isabelle made her way downstairs. It turned out it was just in the nick of time, as Isabelle had barely sat down by the time Lola emerged from around the corner. "Sustenance. Life Blood. Needed." Isabelle knew this meant coffee, and went about making her a cream colored milk-coffee with Lola's preferred sugar content - immense scoops. "Thank you!" she said, as Isabelle handed her the mug. Lola took a few sips before she was willing to speak. "That's better. Did you see?" Isabelle didn't know where Lola was going with this. "Apparently we let some red-headed Scottish beast into the basement last night. Fortunately, it appears we also successfully smothered it with pillows. So tonight, WE FEAST" she stated, hoisting a nearby fork into the air a la Excalibur. Isabelle practically spit her mouthful of her second cup of coffee out, managing instead to only dribble a puddle down her chin. Lola took a nearby napkin, and artfully skipped over to Isabelle, playfully dabbing her chin clean. Isabelle played along, leaning her chin out and allowing it to happen. "Royal Napkin Holder at your disposal, your majesty," Lola stated, bending into a curtsey. "Your services are no longer needed wielder of Napkin. Be Gone!" Isabelle dramatically waved her friend off, before doing a mini-pirouette and ending the scene. Lola stood in front of her smiling. Lola was a beautiful girl, Isabelle was frequently reminded. Her dark hair contrasted beautifully against her pale, almost white skin. She had a beautiful heart-shaped face, with inviting, dark chestnut eyes. Her facial features were sharp, but kind. She was a unicorn amongst dancers, with a true hourglass shaped body, beautifully curved in all the right places. Isabelle was often jealous of her figure, especially since it was no impediment to her exceptional dancing skills. Lola's true gift were her legs. Not only were they slim, muscular, and incredibly strong, but Lola's legs seemed to occupy two-thirds of her whole body. She was undoubtedly the favorite for the fall lead, though that didn't mean the other dancers didn't want it too. Isabelle would be happy if Lola was picked. She deserved it, and was undoubtedly one of the best dancers Higgins had in some time. Lola and Isabelle continued to chitchat away until about 10:15, when they decided to check on the status of their prized kill from the highlands, planning a well orchestrated joint pounce on the creature to ensure its demise. But, just as they opened the door to the basement, they were confronted with the beast at the top of the stairs. "You two look like you are up to absolutely no good, and I am not here for that." Lola and Isabelle couldn't contain their laughter, and backed up enough to allow their friend out. "Regrets...did not tie hair last night. Tell me its not as crazy as it feels," Dani asked, knowing the answer. "Oh sweetie," Lola started, draping and wrapping her arm around her friend, "I wish I could, but its positively wild!" Lola smacked a kiss on her friends cheek, who couldn't help but smile. "Great....This should make for a fun afternoon." The three girls returned to the kitchen to drink their coffee, eat cereal out of the box, and of course, continue chatting about whatever came to mind. The morning passed by just like that, until inevitably, the topic of the slippers returned to the forefront. "Seriously Iz, you need to wear those ALL weekend. You need to work them in. You have just GOT to perform in them next week." Dani was persistent. Isabelle, feeling more confident about them now, affirmed their desires "Yup. I'm sitting tonight, and the kids go to sleep fairly early. So I can work them in and work some basic moves over there. Maybe I'll ask for time in the studio, if Higgins can spare some, early next week too." And just like that, morning passed to noon. Her friends each respectively made their way to the bathroom, affirming Isabelle's decision to spray the air freshener. They went upstairs, threw more pillows around her room, and eventually, packed their bags to head out. Her friends then said their goodbyes and headed out to Lola's car, and just like that, off they were. I Isabelle, not forgetting her mother's instructions, went about her chores. Isabelle loaded and ran the dishwasher, and even decided to wipe the counters down and clean the coffee pot, carefully dumping the grinds out in the trash. Once finished, she headed downstairs to clean up the basement, fix the couch, and fold the blankets, returning them to a linen closet. Once she was done, Isabelle had planned to do some timings for her performance, and so returned upstairs to her room. Isabelle grabbed her headphones, started her music on her phone and headed to her desk chair. But she couldn't sit down. Her body...her body wouldn't move forward. Instead, her eyes were drawn to her cupboard, her only thought - the ballet slippers. There was no need to look at them. Of course they were there, and she really did have work to do. Nevertheless, her legs started moving toward the closet, and before she knew it, she was sitting on the bed, shoebox in hand. "Well, there's no reason to wait until tonight I suppose," Isabelle decided. "If I really am going to dance in these next week, best to start wearing them now. What harm could there be in that?" 2 Link to comment
BabySofia Posted March 12, 2023 Share Posted March 12, 2023 If the slippers are the path to dance in all of those places that were the earlier flash, I wonder if it'll start her over from the beginning, or just stop at a certain point? She's definitely shrinking... Looking forward to more! ? 1 Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted March 13, 2023 Author Share Posted March 13, 2023 The Ballet Slippers - Chapter 5 The afternoon passed seemingly, without any significant event. Isabelle had intended to work more on her timings, but the truth was, she was having far more fun breaking in her new ballet slippers, and simply couldn't focus. The reality was, breaking in pointe slippers was extremely important if you wanted to rescue yourself from severe pain down the road. And Isabelle knew what she was doing. Truthfully, it was not much different than wearing any other "normal" shoe. You just had to, you know, wear the shoe or slipper. But of course, there were techniques for ballet slippers, especially pointe slippers, that were unique. The first thing Isabelle did, of course, was re-confirm that the slippers fit. Before this afternoon, she had tried them on only twice, and although they fit perfectly last time, the first time they had not. So it was to her great relief that when she slipped on her new ballet slippers, they well, slipped on and fit like they had with her friends. And they did. Not just that. But that absolute surreal feeling, that feeling of cushion, of joy, of.....what had she called it? Ah yes - Slipper heaven! That the slipper heaven had returned. It felt just as special as it had with her friends. It was more than perfect - putting on the slippers, it felt right again, came with an affirmation that the slippers were more than just hers....no, they were more. They were MEANT for Isabelle. The series of fluke events that led them into her life were, Isabelle concluded, destiny. And so it was, Isabelle spent the afternoon walking around in demi-pointe, stretching her feet out with simple ballet exercises. She danced her way around her bed, spun her way into the hallways, bounced up and down the stairs, and leapt across her kitchen, dining room, and basement. Wherever room permitted, she continued to work her slipperss in. The odd part was, the slippers didn't feel as though they needed much breaking in. Normally this process was, even in the best of cases, just slightly painful. Your toes hurt, you developed a tine blister, you felt the tension of the material in a new shoe or slipper. But not this time. This time the process.....was easy. It was natural. It was as if Isabelle was floating on clouds around her house, as if the slippers had become part of her feet, rather than just on them. *DING, BLA-BLING*. The sound of the dishwater informing Isabelle that the drying cycle had finished echoed through the house, just as she was bouncing down the stairs for the last time. "Perfect," thought Isabelle, "a chance to really start working these slippers out." Isabelle popped into the kitchen, remarking that it was already 1:48..."mom would be home in a few hours," she thought, "better get this done." Isabelle dropped the dishwasher door to the floor, and slid the top tray out. With her right hand, she grabbed the first mug she saw, the second opening the cabinet. "Annnnnd on Pointe!" she audibly announced to no one, and suddenly, she was on her toes. Up on her toes she leaned forward and stretched out, elegantly lifting her left foot into the air, and stretching her right hand into the air, placing the mug on the top shelf, careful not to put it too far back so she wouldn't struggle next time she needed access. Even on her slippers, however, it was a good stretch to get the mug up there. Isabelle didn't think on it too much. Instead, Isabelle repeated the process, alternating feet in the air, and stretching the slippers on pointe as she gracefully placed each mug in its correct spot. When the mugs destined for the top shelf were stored, she continued with the bottom shelf mugs and their neighbors, the soup bowls. Rather than stretching, she picked each mug and bowl up, and tip toed her way sideways across the kitchen, before leaning forward on one foot again, placing the bowl or mug where it belonged. Bowl. Mug. Mug. Mug. Bowl. Bowl. Bowl. Mug. Each movement flowed gracefully, and the top shelf of the dishwasher was done. Looking down at the lower drawer of the dishwasher, there was only one obvious answer. Isabelle dropped into a plie, pulled the drawer out, "and recover," she announced to herself, rising back to her feet. The slippers...the slippers felt amazing. Plie. Grab forks. Recover. Tip toe to drawer. Place forks. Tip Toe to dishwasher. Plie Grab spoons. Recover. Tip toe to drawer. Place spoons. Tip toe to dishwasher. Plie. Grab plates. Tip toe the other way. Open cupboard. On pointe. Place plates. Tip toe to dishwasher. Repeat. Each movement was better than the last. Each time she moved to her toes, turned, twisted, stretched, recovered, and returned - each and every time felt better and better. Isabelle had never felt better, or more confident in ballet slippers. And in that moment, her kitchen faded away. The dishwasher disappeared. The house walls fell away, the lights gone, the calendar on the fridge, disappeared, and the tiled floor fell away. In their place, a wooden stage rose from the ground; lights and pieces of scenery emerged around her; red velvet curtains unfolded, tumbling to the sides of her stage, and in front of her, hundreds - no, thousands of seats came out of the black abyss, unfolding into a beautiful theater, patrons filling every seat. Isabelle stopped, looked down, and saw it was not just the scenery that had changed, but her own appearance had changed as well. Gone was her raggedy t-shirt she wore to do chores, replaced by a beautiful cream leotard. Her bare legs, previously covered by a pair of athletic shorts, had been overtaken by brand new patterned tights. Her hair no longer hung to her shoulders, but was professionally tied into a bun. The only thing that felt the same, were the slippers. Isabelle was unfazed. Why, exactly? She couldn't tell you. But she had been here before. This was the concert hall at Higgins, where the school's best performances took place. Perhaps she was unfazed since she had been in this exact space before. No, not like this. Sure, she had been on stage before. Even the freshmen played roles in the shows, and trained and practiced there. But now, the eyes of the crowd were all fixed on her. Isabelle had never been here quite like this. Never as the star. She had been here before though. In her fantasies. Except this was no longer a fantasy. It felt real. But it couldn't be....how could it? But any doubt she had, dissipated into the former black abyss. Instead, she was instilled with confidence. She knew precisely what to do. Dance. Chaînés, pirouettes, and fouettés. Fouetté turns, piqué tours, and attitude. Step by step; movement by movement, she performed. And not just performed, but excelled. She had never, not once, danced like this in her life. In fact, Isabelle was sure she was not capable of dancing this well in real life. How....how was this happening. No room for doubt. No room for questioning. Instead, something reminded her....only room for greatness. And greatness she achieved, As Isabelle made her way to center stage, and ended her performance in the greatest grand pirouette she had ever performed, the music died out, and was replaced by resounding applause. Applause that lasted, what felt like a lifetime. Isabelle was...she was a star. Isabelle picked her head up, anticipating rewarding her fans with an acknowledgment. But as she did, it all disappeared. The stage, the lights, the curtains. The patrons, the seats, the scenery. Just like that - they all faded away. Into the darkness. In their place, a fridge returned, with the date marked on a calendar. Her mom's countertops returned, having recently been wiped down. Slowly her kitchen, her home, came back to her. Or perhaps she came back to it, and with that the realization that her performance had indeed been just a fantasy. "But it felt....so real." What had been real apparently, was time. Time had elapsed, she noticed, looking at the clock on the wall. "2:41....that performance took...like 40 minutes....what the hell." Isabelle was extremely confused. Had she just been standing here that whole time, playing make believe? She looked down at the dishwasher, reminding herself that it still had - "no it doesn't...its empty. But there...there was still stuff in there." Had she blacked out? What on earth happened. Unfortunately for Isabelle, she would have to figure this out later. At that moment, her mom opened the front door, calling to her "Sweetie - sorry I am later than I thought. But I needed to get groceries on the way back home. Can you go out to the car and get a few bags?" She pleaded, smile on her face. Isabelle just smiled back at her mom from the kitchen, and through the hall "of course mom. Let me just take the slippers off. I've been breaking them in all afternoon." The thought that she had been wearing her slippers on all day warmed Jane's heart. She was thrilled - it seemed her daughter really did enjoy the new ballet slippers. Isabelle came down the hall, twirling her way toward the stairs and hoping on pointe, just before jogging up the stairs. A few moments later, she returned in socks and sneakers, and ran out the door to help her mom. The Ballet Slippers - Chapter 6 "You have everything you need for the night sweetie?" Jane asked, as Isabelle was bringing a bag down the stairs. "Yes mom. I'm just going over the Williams house. Jess said Eric would already be asleep, and Becky is easy." Jane exhaled, "Alright. Just remember that you won't be able to come back here if you forget something. Becky is too young, even too leave alone for a minute." Jane left it at that, making her way to the kitchen. "If there are any issues, please just call me. I am just going to be picking up some things at Target. The toilet seat lever up in your bathroom needs replacing, and I saw they were having a sale on linens. I'll see if there is anything good." Isabelle knew Becky was too young to leave alone. Hell she was only 4. Why was her mom lecturing her? It didn't matter. Isabelle felt bad that her mom was spending Saturday night shipping for toilet parts. "She should be out with friends. Not going to Target." Isabelle wished her mom would live her life more. The afternoon had passed without incident. After unloading the car, Isabelle returned to her room to work on her timings. She came down around 6:30 to help her mom finish cooking dinner - pasta with some chicken in it - and then helped her wash up. By that time, Isabelle needed to get her bag packed - not forgetting to put her ballet slippers in there - and made her way to the front door so she could walk to the Williams house before 7:15. Her mom had been really grateful that she had cleaned the house up, and Isabelle felt good about herself. Isabelle slid on a paid of sliders, through her bag over her shoulder, and out the front door she went. At the bottom of the stairs, she hooked a left and walked down past the series of townhouses, all the way to the last one. She turned up the stairs, looked at the front door, pausing on the first stair, and took a deep breath. "Here we go," she said, motivating herself to get in there. She had been finding herself distracted. As Isabelle was reaching for the door, Ms. Williams - or Jess, as she insisted Isabelle call her - opened it up. "Iz, thank you so much for getting here early. John thought he made a reservation for 8, but its turns out its for 7:30..help me with this earing." Isabelle jumped into action, and helped her get the last lock on the back of her left ear. "....thanks. So anyway we're in a bit of a rush." Isabelle was happy to help "you should have told me. And Jess, you look - well, you look hot!" Isabelle said, laughing. "I love that red dress!" Jess blushed a bit, though it was an odd remark to hear from a babysitter. "Thanks sweetie. I guess I was going for 'hot'" At that moment, John came down the stairs in his suit, "Eric is in his crib asleep, so he shouldn't be an issue. But just take the monitor with you in case," he said, handing her the baby monitor connected to the one in Eric's room. "Oh, and one more thing.." This time it was Jess. Isabelle hated the 'one more thing' most of the time. This couldn't be good. "Becky has been having...trouble with her potty training. She had an accident today - nothing serious - but we have her in a pull-up tonight. She isn't happy about it, obviously. But we wanted to let you know. If you wouldn't mind reminding her to use the potty, it might help." she finished off, "Oh" - almost finished off - "and you know the rules we use, so just use your best judgment. She's upstairs protesting us or some other nonsense. Thanks again Iz!" And just like that, they were out the door, leaving Isabelle in charge. Isabelle didn't mind this twist. She babysat plenty of kids who had potty issues, and plenty more that were still in diapers. But Becky had been doing so well in the past, and Isabelle was rooting for her. The last time she sat, Becky had run to the door to pull down her pants and show her - and anyone else in the street - that she was wearing "big girl panties". This was a notable departure from that, but Jess was pretty strict about what accidents meant, and far be it from Isabelle to question Jess's rules. Isabelle made her way up the stairs, familiar with the layout of the house. The Williams family used the same primary bedroom her mom used, and Becky was in the equivalent of her room. Eric, on the other hand, would be in what her mom used as an office. Nevertheless, Isabelle deftly made her way upstairs, and knocked on little Becky's door. "hey sweetie...Its Iz! Can I come in?"......... .... "No!" ... "Oh boy," thought Isabelle. "This was going to be a fun party." But then again, Isabelle knew how to manage a 4 year old. "Okay I suppose....I suppose I'll just have to have a dance party by myself." Isabelle continued playfully, "If you think of anyone that would have wanted to join Becky, let them know I'll be downstairs in the playroom. Having a dance party. All by myself. ALLLLLL ALOOONNNE." Now, she just needed to wait. ....a little longer....Isabelle added a couple of receding stomps to really sell it... ....and.... *click*. The sound of the doorknob turned, and it opened just a crack. Isabelle, meanwhile, was hiding on the far side of the door. When Becky opened it just a little bit more....."GOTCHYA" Isabelle screamed, picking the sweet girl up and spinning her around. Just like that, Becky was giggling. Isabelle settled her into her arms, and looked her in the eye. Becky was a cute little girl, blonde just like Isabelle. Her hair had been brushed out into pigtails, her chubby cheeks red and swollen from crying earlier in the night. She was small for 4, but cute as a button. "Now, we can't have any fun with you all locked up in your room, can we?" Becky shook her head. "Nu-uhhh." she confirmed. "Well, do you know anyone who might want to have a DANCE PARTY?" Isabelle asked. Becky's arm shot up "Me! Iz! MEEE!" Isabelle was going to continue to have fun. "Hmmmmmm what a shame, there's no one to dance with me!" Becky pouted "Me!! Me!! MEEEEEEE" Jeez, that last one was loud. "Okay, okay cutie, lets keep the shouting down so we don't make your brother. Let's head on downstairs, kay?" Becky nodded, and Isabelle placed her on the ground. Becky started toddling away ahead of Isabelle, with her close in tow. Jess had already put Becky in her PJs - a two piece unicorn set that Isabelle knew was her favorite. Becky was getting a little big for the set, though, as she had had it for some time. Just over the hem of the pants, Isabelle spotted what was clearly the pullup she felt when resting Becky in her arms. Isabelle had used the opportunity to check if it was used, which it wasn't. As they headed down to the playroom - Iz made a quick pit stop on the bottom stair to quickly put her ballet slippers on. Of course, the proposed dance party was merely an excuse for her to spend another 30 minutes breaking the shoes in, but the truth was, Becky loved their 'dance parties,' and so it was really a win win. "Okay squirt. First - does anyone need to use the potty?" Becky would be distracted, better to check now. "Not me Iz!"...'are you sure sweetie?" Iz responded. "Yup!" Becky responded quickly. Isabelle didn't want to mention that her mom mentioned the accident if she didn't need to. Becky did seem confident that there were no problems. So she decided to trust her. "Okay," Isabelle said, pulling her phone out and getting a good kid's mix on Spotify she liked to use, "Question Two: Are. You. Ready?!?!" Isabelle never heard a yes, but a lot of squealing ensued, confirming yes, Becky was indeed ready. And so they danced, Isabelle carefully and deceitfully breaking her shoes in using the same techniques as before, and Becky, throwing her body wildly however she felt to the music. Isabelle laughed - she loved the innocence and playfulness of children. Becky was free - free from choreography, for timing, from steps, from rules. She was free to express herself, exactly how she felt at that moment, to that music. Sometimes, just sometimes, Isabelle missed that freedom, which had long ago been coached out of her. After 30 minutes of sweaty dancing, Isabelle turned the music off and called the event. "Dancers," she playfully announced, mimicking an M.C., "we thank you for your EXCELLENT dancing, but the party, is now over, as it is 8 PM, and that is our closing time." Becky was, surprisingly, okay with the end of the game. It would almost be her bed time, and the dancing would have worn her out. Isabelle continues "are there any princesses in attendance who are ready for bed?!" Becky's smile didn't subside, but she shook her head no. "Can we please play one more game Iz?! Just one more? Please? And then bedtime." Isabelle considered the offer. One the one hand, Jess was flexible with the 8 PM bedtime, so long as she wasn't up past 8:30 at the worst. On the other hand, Becky could get....cranky. What to do... What to do, what to do..... ....Isabelle took a deep breath. "She had a rough day. Let's give her a better night" she told herself. "Okay princess. But under two conditions." Becky's eyes lit up "First, you need to go brush your teeth and use the potty upstairs now." Becky was practically running. "AND TWO," Becky stopped, "you are going right to bed, no questions asked when we are done. Understood?" Becky nodded rapidly, and climbed the stairs to go to her bathroom. Isabelle knew she could trust her up there. Isabelle proceeded to take her ballet slippers off, returning them to her bag. "That was a successful day" she concluded "but I never did figure out what happened earli-" her thoughts were cut off by a pitter patter down the staircase. Becky was returning. "Teeth brushed?" Isabelle questioned. Becky nodded. "You used the potty?" Becky didn't react, and then nodded. "Becky...are you telling the truth." Becky decided more quickly this time "Yup!." Isabelle thought about it for a second, and then let it go. "Okay. What do you want to play?" Becky had this one dialed up "Hide and Seek!" Isabelle smiled. It was Becky's favorite game. She was also, like any four year old, a terrible hider. This game would be over quick. "Okay deal. But when I find you, its bedtime." Becky considered the terms, and then agreed "Okay! you stay here and count to 30. No. Not here. Go in the kitchen. Count there." Isabelle smiled and made her way to the kitchen, counting as she walked "Better get going...4.....5...I'm going to find you.....8.....9...." Becky practically sprinted back upstairs, stomping on every step almost as if to make it even easier to locate her. Isabelle stopped counting, and instead checked her phone. She would give Becky ten minutes, pretend she had been looking, and then find her on the floor of the tub - her only hiding spot. Isabelle took the opportunity to let Dani and Lola know that she had been working the slippers in all day, and they felt great. Lola responded immediately, with a smiley emoji. Dani was apparently busy tonight, but she'd get around to it. The remaining time, Isabelle spent surfing various websites, and catching up on her social media accounts. She checked her watch, saw about 12 minutes had passed, and headed toward the stairs. "HMMMMMM she wasn't in the BASEMENT," Isabelle announced, feigning her search. "And I couldn't find her ANYWHERE down here! Where could Becky BE?!?! I guess I'll look upstairs." Isabelle stomped up the stairs to add to the anticipation. She got to the top of the stairs, and made a left to Jess and John's bedroom, opening it enough for it to make a noise, and shouting "Not in here. What a GREAT hider she is." Becky knew she was not allowed in there when her parents weren't home. She didn't need to look in there. Isabelle went and repeated the process with Becky's door. "Not in here either. I guess I'll look in the BATHROOM.." she announced. Isabelle retraced her steps back to the kids' bathroom, and opened it up. "She's not in the...TOILET" Isabelle announced, She's not in the..... ...... Isabelle's attention was broken. ..*Snif.........*Sniffle...... It was quiet at first, but it was getting louder now. The baby monitor in her pocket was picking up something. "Please Becky.....please tell me you didn't wake your brother up...." Isabelle knew it hadn't been her. She had been emphasizing words, but not shouting. In any event, the game would need to take a backseat for a moment, while she went and checked on Eric. Isabelle closed the bathroom door and headed toward the nursery. She opened it quietly, and made her way toward the crib. Eric didn't seem in distress...In fact, he was sleeping soundly. Isabelle went up to him to make sure. Sure enough, he was fine. "Better make sure," she thought, and she placed her hand against the onesie to see if he needed a change.....but nothing, Isabelle unsnapped one of the buttons just to confirm, but as she did, she heard the crying again, this time with her ears. Isabelle snapped the onesie back up, and suspected she knew what this was. "Ugh.." she exasperated, "please don't let this be what I think it is..." Unfortunately, her ears were not the only sense picking up something. Her nose had picked up something as well. Something...oh boy. She knew what that something was. Turning 90 degrees to her right, following her ears and nose, she saw two little feet protruding from behind the curtains. She knew who those feet belonged to, and it wasn't a fairy godmother. Eyes, Ears, and Nose - her senses were not failing her. Isabelle walked over quietly, bent down, and pulled aside the curtain to find Becky, standing, back against the wall, and tears running down her face. Isabelle didn't ask what was wrong. She didn't need to. Instead, she did the only thing you could do - she pulled Becky in, and gave her a hug. "Shhhhhh Shhh Shhhhh Sweetie. It's okay....It is. It's fine baby.....Accidents happen..Shhhhhh Shhhh Shhhhh." Isabelle was whispering to make sure not to wake Eric up, but it seemed to be doing the job. Becky had buried her head into Isabelle's shoulder, tears running down Isabelle's chest. "Baby...Let's get you cleaned up...It's okay...It's okay..." Isabelle didn't want to let Becky know the inevitable. She didn't want it to lead to a potential tantrum. But as Jess said, the rules were the rules. And Jess was in charge - Isabelle was a mere proxy. And so, Isabelle eased Becky over to the wall opposite the crib where Eric's changing table sat. She had Becky wait, and helped pull down her pajama bottoms and help Becky step out of them. "There you go...see...no problems at all sweetie. One foot....great...and now two...So good. Good girl!" After that, Isabelle took a moment to look Becky in the eye from her crouched position. "Sweetie...It was an accident. It's okay. Everything is going to be okay." That was all she could say - what else was there? This poor girl - hiding behind a curtain - had the worst possible thing happen to her: she pooped her pullup. And she knew the consequences. Just like that, Isabelle started lowering her pullup down her legs, careful to keep its contents away from Becky's legs. As she was removing the pullup, she realzied Becky had not just pooped, but she peed in this as well. It was at max capacity. There was no way Becky was honest with her before, but that was a problem she would report to Jess to deal with. "Okay sweetie, careful here. One foot...great and ...that's right second foot. Great job baby!" Isabelle took the pullup and put it down into Eric's diaper genie, without any mess. "Now, now the challenging part." Per Williams mandate, Becky would need to be put in a diaper. Poopy accidents left no choice. Isabelle reached into the bottom cubby of the changing table where she knew Jess kept emergency spares for Becky. Reaching back, she found a "barbie" one, and started opening and fluffing it out. "Barbie' wouldn't do anything to liven the mood, so Isabelle elected not to draw attention to it. She hated that she had to do this. But the truth was, Becky had lied to her. Isabelle gave her two chances, AND let her stay up later. "Big girls need to be responsible" Isabelle concluded, "and tonight, Becky wasn't. I knew...I knew she should have just gone to bed after we danced." But that wouldn't have solved anything...in fact...it may have made a much bigger mess. "Interesting choice of words" Isabelle thought to herself. Isabelle picked Becky up - surprisingly to no resistance - and laid her out on Eric's changing table. "This girl is worn out - she just wants to go to bed" Isabelle realized. "Shhhhhh. It's okay baby. Izzy is going to fix everything" she soothed. Isabelle quickly and deftly started wiping up the mess - front and back - with some of the baby wipes next to the table. Becky shuddered at the coolness of the first one, but relaxed as Isabelle finished her work. "Legs up hunny," she whispered, and Becky cooperated. Isabelle slid the diaper underneath her, spilling some baby powder on her backside while she was there. Another couple of sprays of powder to the front, and Isabelle set the powder down. Isabelle pulled the front of the diaper up, and taped Becky up. "All done sweetie. Snug like a bug. That was easy, no? No one got hurt, did they?" Becky didn't fight it, but she certainly wasn't going to agree. Isabelle proceeded to pick up Becky's PJ bottoms, made sure they were still dry, and helped her back into them. "Let's get to bed baby, its been a long day." Isabelle lifted Becky off the table, and onto her hip. As she did, Becky laid her head against Isabelle, and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Becky's eyes were rolling back, and she was practically asleep. "She's adorable" was all Isabelle could think. Becky's diaper was more than apparent in her PJs, both protruding out from the waistline, and the bulk poofing out from inside. "It really is precious," Isabelle thought, "even if she's too old for them." Isabelle hiked Becky up to a comfortable spot, left the nursey, closing the door behind her. She then headed directly across the hall into Becky's room, leaving the door open just a crack. She lifted Becky with both arms now, placing her into the bed and lifting the covers over her. "You'll get there one day cutie. We all do. We all just learn to use the potty in our own time. I promise." Isabelle wasn't quite sure who she was talking to - Becky was lights out - but it felt right to tell her the words of comfort anyway. Isabelle made her way back out, turning just before she left. Becky had settled, thumb in her mouth, and fast asleep. "Problem for another time.' It had in fact been a long day for Becky. In fact, it was been a long day for Isabelle too. Isabelle shut the door behind her, deciding to head downstairs and watch some TV. She needed a rest. She was exhausted. 7 Link to comment
BabySofia Posted March 13, 2023 Share Posted March 13, 2023 I wonder if she’s going to be having to follow Jess’s rules too…? Future playmates? Looking forward to your next update! Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted March 14, 2023 Author Share Posted March 14, 2023 It seems my story has now been read over 1,000 times, something I never expected when I started. I don't know who you all are, and there is no way I could possibly address you all individually. But from the bottom of my heart, I am truly thankful for your support. The Ballet Slippers - Chapter 7 The rest of Isabelle's weekend passed without incident. Eric and Becky had slept soundly the rest of the night. Isabelle herself had dozed off in front of television in the basement by the time Jess and John arrived back home. Isabelle informed Jess of the events of the night - the most concerning part being that Becky had lied to Isabelle. Jess was obviously disappointed, remarking that if Becky continued like this, she would have to go back to diapers at night again. Isabelle offered the only words of comfort she could "She'll get through it. I sit for loads of kids her age who aren't as good as her." Jess had smiled, paid Isabelle handsomely for her time, and thanked her again. Isabelle returned home Saturday night and went straight to her room. She took her ballet slippers out of her bag, and placed them on the top shelf of her cupboard. After that, Isabelle went straight to sleep. She had barely hit the covers before she passed out. It really had been a long weekend, and she and the girls had stayed up quite late the night before. Sunday passed without incident. Isabelle had slept in until about 10 AM, which was outrageously late for her. She made her way downstairs to the kitchen, just in time to catch her mom heading out the door to go on her walking route. Jane invited Isabelle to join her, but it was clearly just meant to be courteous. Isabelle would not be going out for some time. Isabelle had sat down with her coffee, and proceeded to work at solving the Sunday sudoku. The local paper's puzzle difficulty tended to increase each day, with Monday being the easiest, and Sunday being the most challenging. Isabelle rarely finished the Sunday puzzles, but she always liked to try. That one's in particular had been extremely challenging, and her head seemed fuzzy that morning. "It is just not my day," Isabelle concluded, leaving the puzzle with only a few numbers filled in. Isabelle spent the morning watching some cheesy GetFlix show Dani insisted she needed to watch. It was a classic WC type show, but took place at an "elite' dancing school. Dani mentioned it was funny, so she gave it a shot. At the very least, it would give her something to talk about with Dani if she saw her before Wednesday's showcase. Speaking of which. after one horrifically bad episode - not to mention all the ballet mistakes the show made - Isabelle returned to her desk to work on her neglected timings for her showcase on Wednesday. She had spent so much time breaking in her slippers yesterday. and dozed off last night, that she really had not focused on them enough. Ballet, at its core, required study, timing, precision, and lots, lots of notes on paper. It was the behind the scenes work that the casual audience member never appreciated, but equal to practicing, timings and notes were essential to a well rounded performance. Isabelle was normally quite content to sit at her desk working on her timings and notes. In normal circumstances, a day after breaking her slippers in, her feet would be sore. She would be relieved to have her bum witting on her nice cushioned swivel chair, feet up on her little foot hammock underneath the desk. That had not been the case. In fact, her feet felt...great. They felt better than they ever had after breaking slippers in. And that was a problem. Because instead of focusing on her notes, Isabelle felt her eyes drifting to her closet to her right, up the floor, past her dresses, and fixing on the shoebox with her slippers. Perhaps it was because she had never owned something so expensive. Or maybe it was because she really fell in love with the slippers. Or maybe, just maybe, she was nuts - it couldn't be ruled out, Isabelle concluded - after the incident in her kitchen from Saturday afternoon: her dishwasher/ballet gala still left a few questions unanswered. Isabelle had spent half of the day looking back and forth to her closet. She was so distracted, she was making mistakes all over the place in her notes. "It couldn't hurt......I could just wear them while I wor-........No. No stop. You'll just dance, you won't work. You need to stop." Isabelle must have gone through this loop two-dozen times over 3-4 hours, before she finished her work. In fact, she had needed to get up and shut the closet - only to re-open it - and close it again - about 5-6 times, so she could stop fixating on the slippers. Isabelle had to practically drag herself out of her bedroom to go downstairs for dinner with her mom that night. As she was twisting leftover spaghetti onto her fork, her mom telling her something about something she saw on her walk or something else, Isabelle's mind had been reduced to one dimension: slippers, slippers, slippers. "At least I'll get to wear them this week," she told herself, as though it would help. Isabelle helped clean up the kitchen, and spent some time chatting with her mom about her weekend. Isabelle and Jane were sitting in the living room, roughly in the same spots they had on Friday during the gift exchange. Isabelle managed to shake off the fuzziness in her head long enough to carry a conversation, but after about 30-40 minutes of listening, chatting, and scrolling though her BlueIt account, she excused herself and headed to her bedroom. She had a long week ahead, and decided to go up and do her nightly routine, and start fresh tomorrow morning. ****** Monday arrived to the sound of raindrops battering against Isabelle's window. The cloud dimmed sunshine barely lit Isabelle's room anymore than it had been when she fell asleep. Slowly, Isabelle rose from the bed, throwing the covers off with her right hand, and stepping off the left side of the bed. Her mind was still on auto-pilot, as she headed toward the bathroom to relieve her bladder. Normally she could wait to go until she had some breakfast. But for some reason, this morning she felt the need to go pretty badly. "No sweat. First bathroom, then breakfast." Isabelle left her room, and made a right down the hallway toward the bathroom. Her eyes were barely half-opened as she pushed the bathroom door in, closing it gently behind her, and lifted the toilet seat up to sit down. She bent, over, pulling her shorts down around her legs, and sat down with her head resting on her opened hand, elbow leaning against her thigh. Isabelle opened her mouth, allowing a big yawn to escape, and cracked her neck to its right, just as the echo of her pee was hitting the water in the toilet bowl. She repeated the exercise, cracking her head to the left, and then lifting her arms up overhead. "Ahhhhhhhhh....." she sighed. as the relief from her neck - and her bladder - felt much more comfortable. "Jeez...I really needed to go," Isabelle thought, her pee-stream not seemingly relenting. After what felt like a full two minutes or so, and the last drops were echoing against the porcelan bowl, Isabelle grabbed a piece of toilet paper, wiped, dropping the paper into the toilet. Isabelle stood, leaning forward to pull her shorts up, standing upright and turning to face the toilet. She noticed her mom had replaced the flusher the morning before, and Isabelle proceeded to push it with a little more force than she used to, those new flushers being what they were. Isabelle continued about her morning routine, brushing her teeth, applying her lotions, serums, and other products, before returning to her room. She started making her bed, first pulling the sheet up toward the headboard, and then teh comforter after that, straightening out the edges and corners. Isabelle proceeded with the daunting task of collecting all her pillows, and placing them in their 'correct spots' on the bed. Finally, she took Rabbity from her bedside table, and placed her gently on front of the pillows, as though to guard the bed from intruders. "It hadn't worked so well with Dani, but then again, she was a much larger criminal mastermind than Rabitty was used to defending against," Isabelle thought to herself. What an odd thought to have. Isabelle shrugged it off, and started changing for the day, stripping off her pajamas and throwing them into the hamper. She went over to her dresser, took out a pair of white tights, and began pulling them on. She also grabbed a ballet black-bra to wear today during practice. Though her modest (nearly) B-cup breasts didn't need a bra under a well fitting leotard, today she felt like wearing one for practice, and so hooked it on. Isabelle opened the bottom drawer, and took out a pair of navy sweatpants bearing the "HIGGINS" name running down the left left, and tossed them onto her newly made bed, and then made her way to her closet to grab a black leotard. Isabelle shifted some hangers around, identified the one she had been looking for, and took the hanger off the hanging rod, returning to her bed. She took the leotard off, placed the hanger on her bed for later, and pulled the leotard on. It was a simple black, boat neck style leotard with sleeves, and Isabelle would be comfortable working out in this for the day. Isabelle slipped her navy sweatpants on over her tights, and grabbed the zip-up hoodie hanging over the back of her desk chair. Lastly, she grabbed her ballet bag, which contained her new slippers, an extra pair of tights, her water bottle in her separate product, and pins and scrunchies to keep her hair out of her face for the day. With that, she headed downstairs to enjoy some coffee, and make sure she was ready when her mom was ready to take her to Higgins. While Isabelle was putting the finishing touches on the morning's Sudoku - a surprisingly tough Monday puzzle - Jane made her way downstair, slipping her last earing into her left ear. "Sweetie, lets go. I don't want to be late for work," Jane announced. Isabelle spun around, hopped off the stool, reached down and grabbed her bag, and followed her mom out the door. Together, they hopped into the car, each snapped in their seatbelt, and took off toward Higgins. Isabelle sat silently looking out the window, contemplating the last week of summer programming. She would likely attend a few of the optional classes this morning, and then see about reserving some studio room for the afternoon. She'd have to head to the student affairs room at some point this week to work her schedule out, but that didn't need to happen today. Isabelle continued to stare out the window, now looking directly into Miller Park. It was early, and despite the fact that the rain had no relented, there were plenty of families in the park; moms pushing strollers; kids ushered into the park facilities for day camp; park services employees emptying the trash cans. It was a normal day. Isabelle loved looking out at the park on her way to school. It always felt peaceful. Jane noticed that Isabelle had been quiet that morning, and just let it be. She learned over time to appreciate her daughter's alone time with her thoughts. Isabelle was not a little girl she needed to dot on in the car ride. So she focused on the road, winding through the beautifully paved roads, up the face of the mountain, and toward the front entrance of Higgins. The car gave its normal sputter as she accelerated the car up the last portion of the hill....and over. From there, it was cruising altitude to the final destination. Jane stopped the car, looked at her daughter, and pulled her in for a hug. "Have a great day!" Isabelle hugged her mom back and with two words - "thanks Mom!" was out and heading toward the school. The campus was always quiet during the summer, but there were always clusters of students in summer programs around. As Isabelle entered the front door, she noted that it was a little busier than in past weeks. "Probably students coming to set their class schedules," she concluded. Isabelle was making her way toward the small ballet studio on the second floor, focused on her timings and steps. She was playing them out in her head over and over, ensuring that she memorized them. As she did, she rounded the corner on the second floor corridor and - OOMPH -- ... "ouch." It was the only word Isabelle muttered, her eyes having shut, and her body having bounced backward onto the floor. "Ughh....." Well, a word and a noise. Isabelle opened her eyes, preparing to issue an apology to whomever she had collided with, but upon doing so, realized that she had bumped into Avery. Her Avery. "He's not YOUR Avery, Isabelle," she had to remind herself. "Just because you might want him to be, doesn't mean....." Isabelle went beat red at the thought. "Shit. Now I'll have to explain this too." Isabelle had apparently been laying on the floor, eyes open, and starring at Avery long enough for him to apologize first. "Shit, Iz. I am so sorry. I didn't see you coming from around the corner. I was rushing outside to the stone sculptures...We have to get them covered with tarps." Isabelle remained silent. She wasn't sure why. But it felt as if her mouth was frozen and didn't work. Avery had popped up on his feet at this point, extending a hand to Isabelle, offering to help her up. Isabelle looked up, and started to move her arm toward Avery's accepting the offer. Avery was a boy she had been in school with for, well about 10 years now. He was one of the first students in accepted into the "Plastic and Visual Arts" program back when Higgins expanded into the field. In his freshman year of the high school program, he had transitioned full time into plastic arts, and was one of the better sculptors in the school almost immediately. "Take his damn hand" Isabelle told herself, still frozen. "If you wait any longer you'll look like a bigger idiot than you already do." She reached out, and grabbed his surprisingly soft hand. With little effort, Avery pulled her up, and Isabelle was back on her feet. Avery was considerably taller than her, probably hovering around 6 feet. He had these dark, fascinating blue eyes that caught your attention almost immediately. He was by no means fat, but he was certainly a huskier guy. But it suited him - "he spends all day smashing and carving rocks," she reminded herself, "not work for the dainty." It likely stood out to her more because the boys in her program were typically strong, but still narrow. Avery didn't look like a boy. He looked like a man. Isabelle was suddenly very aware of another problem. Yes, her butt - which she had landed directly on - did hurt. And yes, she had just looked like a fool in front of her beau. But neither of those could even possibly bother Isabelle at this point. No. No indeed. What was bothering her - correction - what was terrifying her now, was the realization that her stomach was rumbling. Yes. Her stomach. Much like it did every morning, her morning coffee set a ticking time bomb for Isabelle to need to poop. And this morning, for some god forsaken reason, rather than making her coffee AND THEN going to the bathroom, she had decided to pee first - damn her bladder - and have her coffee just before her mom had driven her to school. "Oh god.." Based on her experience, rumble volume, and the seismic readings her head was reading, she had about 10 minutes, which under her current circumstances, was about 20 minutes too short. Avery brushed his curly black hair back with his left hand, releasing Isabelle's hand with his right. "I really am sorry Iz," He started. Rumble. "I didn't see you coming from around the corner there." Rumble. Rumb- "My head was in another place. Are you alright." Isabelle looked back at Avery mustered her cutest smile, and just nodded. Avery looked unsure. Rumble. Rumble rumble. "Okay...if you say so. You look a little off. Are you sure you're okay?" Rumble. Isabelle nodded again, trying a second - but also cute - smile. She wasn't sure how many more of those she had in the bag. "I'll take your word for it, then." Rumble. Rumble. "but I also really have to get running. Professor Quartz will kill me if those pieces aren't covered. I'll see you later, okay?" This time, Isabelle did smile - smile of relief, coupled with yet another nod.. She had not moved an inch at this point, feeling a build beginning to develop in her bottom. At that point, Avery started walking past her, heading down the staircase Isabelle had just climbed. "You couldn't musted up one damn word Iz? What is wrong with you." Her internal voice was taunting her. Rumble. Rumble Rumble. Just then, possibly the best, and worst thing, happened under the circumstances. ... Well, not the worst. Just as Avery was pushing the door open, Isabelle lost a bit of control. *Thrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrp.* She just... She just... She just farted...in front of Avery. Not just any fart. But a long, winding, high pitched fart. And there was no one, no one else around. She wanted. To. Die. But like she said: A miracle happened. Avery had pushed the door at the exact same time. "Maybe he didn't hear it. I mean, they happened at the EXACT same time" she told herself. "Had they really though?" She couldn't be sure....but it felt like they had. She needed them to have. She...she needed them to have. Rumble Rumble. It was also apparent to her that she didn't hear the door close. Avery as likely still holding it open. Why....why would he not have continued...unless....oh god....oh god he DID hear. Oh god. "Just take me now...take me" Isabelle prayed. "Dani and Lola will DIE when they hear what happened. I'll need to transfer schools...I mean, I really don't have a choice, now do I? There had to be school in Siberia or somewhere without internet, right?" Rumble. "Hey." That was all he said. One word. "Hey." That could mean anything. Rumble. Imitating one of the statutes Avery would have carved, Isabelle continued her strategy of not moving a muscle. "He isn't a deer Iz. He can see you even if you don't move." She knew it was stupid, but with her life over now, it seemed best to pretend she couldn't move. "Hey" Avery was beckoning back to her again. "Be cool...be cool Iz...You are capable of rotating your hear." She was being given another chance. Slowly but surely, she turned to see Avery standing there, one arm propping the door open. Rumble. Rumble Rumble Rumble. "Please. Please don't betray me again." Hopefully her gut would listen this time. Isabelle managed to turn around, making eye contact with Avery, with those deep, dark blue eyes. "I really do hope to see you later, okay?" Wow. Wow. The words looked like they came out of Avery's mouth. They sounded like it too. But it couldn't be true, could it? This was amazing! For two reasons. First, Avery wanted to see her. Second, he didn't hear her fart; he couldn't have. It was teenager science that a boy you fart in front of never wants to see you again. And HE wanted to see her. That was like, like the most proven theory ever." "Yah me too." Had she spoken? Shit. "I think you actually nailed that one though Iz," she told herself. "I have to go too though," she finished, still smiling and blushing. "Two for two Iz. Two for Two" she applauded herself. "Sounds good" Avery uttered the last two words as he was clearly receding down the stairs. Isabelle waited until she was certain the door to the stairwell had shut. And once she heard the *click. She shimmied her feet as fast as they would go to the ladies room past her classroom - which had started by the way, and through the door open. She pushed her way into one the stalls, throwing her zip up hoodie the ground. She basically kicked her sweats off, and was bouncing on her feet trying to pull her leotard down. "Oh please....Oh please....." Her stomach was on the verge. She needed to go. It was now or never. "Never.....Coffee....Again..." she was telling herself, as her stomach was pushing its contents further into her gut. ... Just as Isabelle was able to get her leotard down, and lower her tights, the moment of truth was upon her. She slammed her butt down on to the seat, and released. "Aghhhhhhhhhh............" .... "Oh god.....uh..uh...ah......." ... ... "ah......" She made it. Her bowels were pouring out into the toilet - this was a big one - but it didn't matter. She had made it. She was safe.....She was safe. The relief of making it was only made better by the relief from, well from expelling a pretty big poop into the toilet. Isabelle, content and confident that she was finished, spent the time to thoroughly wipe up, and flushed the toilet. She stood up, collected her zip-up, her pants, and slid her sneakers back on to her feet, heading to the sink to wash her hands. She looked herself in the mirror, grabbed a black velvet ballet scrunchie, and tied her hair up. She took a deep breath, settled her nerves - she was going to need to seriously break down what just happened with her girls later...maybe leaving out a few details...and started heading to class. Isabelle made her first right out of the bathroom, and tried to slip into the room unnoticed. Unfortunately, it was the small studio room, and Miss Lazard spotted her right away. "And if you think its appropriate to show up that late to class Ms. Lewis, how are we to rely on you all year?" she asked snarkily. Isabelle bowed her head "Sorry Miss Lazard. I'll be right there." She sat on the floor and opened her bag, just as Lola caught her eye with a "why the hell are you so late" type of look. "Very well. Put your slippers on and join the others." Isabelle wanted nothing more than just that. She wanted to dance. And dance she would. 5 Link to comment
BabySofia Posted March 14, 2023 Share Posted March 14, 2023 Somehow I don't think she's going to make it much longer before an accident. I'm curious how the dance classes go and her showcase on Wednesday. I wonder if she's going to still be a big girl when she has her showcase? No one seems to have noticed her shrinking so far. She didn't wear her slippers Sunday, so curious what will happen on this day! Thanks for continuing! ? 2 Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted March 14, 2023 Author Share Posted March 14, 2023 12 hours ago, BabySofia said: Somehow I don't think she's going to make it much longer before an accident. I'm curious how the dance classes go and her showcase on Wednesday. I wonder if she's going to still be a big girl when she has her showcase? No one seems to have noticed her shrinking so far. She didn't wear her slippers Sunday, so curious what will happen on this day! Thanks for continuing! ? Isabelle is a big girl! I don't know where you are getting these ideas. Thank you for your continued support. Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted March 15, 2023 Author Share Posted March 15, 2023 The Ballet Slippers - Chapter 8 "Pffffffffffffffffffffffffffft." Dani couldn't stop herself. She had been sitting next to Isabelle as Isabelle was recounting the important events of the day, namely, her chance run in with Avery. Dani had quite literally spat her soda out of her mouth, across the lunch table, half of it landing on the table, the rest making its way on to the empty seat across from her. The girls at the table one over from them all turned around and just stared at Dani's, well, sophisticated reaction to hearing a story. At this point, beat red was insufficient to describe the crimson color of Isabelle's face. It was red planet, Mars surface, red-iris flower, red, red, red. Lola, likewise, was sitting across from her, nearly falling out of the bench laughing, as Isabelle recounted her ordeal earlier that day with her friends. Isabelle crossed her arms on the table, and buried her face. Isabelle needed to tell her friends - they shared everything. That didn't mean she hadn't withheld some details, particularly that her fatally time fart was indicating a much larger problem she had dealt with. Instead, she portrayed the troubling toot as an isolated incident, possibly related to a stomach cramp that had never existed. Still, the story was shameful, and her friends were enjoying every damn second of it. "So. To confirm. There you are. He picks you up, gallantly we might add" Dani motioned toward her, not that Isabelle saw. Her head was still buried. Dani continued "you stand there. You don't say a word. and just as he walks by you. Just seconds before you're in the clear," Dani was building up to the crescendo - but Lola beat her there "PRRRRRRRT" Lola made the noise, likely pressing her hand to her mouth. More laughter. More shame. Isabelle wanted to melt away. Isabelle was sick of having her nose pressed against the cafeteria table. After leaving class this morning, she had thrown her sweatpants back on over her tights, but left her ballet slippers on and her zip-up off. It wasn't uncommon for the dancers to walk around in their tights and leotards, especially when there were no classes during the summer, but the rain had made it rather cold in the school, and her legs were shivering. She was happy she had worn a leotard with sleeves. Isabelle had also managed to reserve some time in the small ballet studio to practice her performance for the showcase at 2 PM, so there was no good reason to change out of her slippers. Plus, they felt good on her feet, more comfortable than her sneakers. More comfortable than any shoe or slipper she had, in fact. Isabelle recognized that she would have to face this embarrassment - at least in front of her friends. "Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!! It was horrible guys... I still have no idea if he heard." she said, inviting her friends to reassure her that he clearly had not. "He had pressed the lever for the door, like, I'm pretty sure at the same time." She said, propping herself up on one leg she tucked beneath her butt, "And right after that he said he wanted to see me -" Lola cut her off, "yes, we'll get to the part where he wanted to see you in a bit. But there is NO WAY he didn't hear,: she said, still smiling, and holding back laughter, "especially the way you described it. That sounds like it was no lady fart. It sounds like it was LOUD." Dani was choking on her own laughter, and Lola continued, big smile on her face "It is settled then - you'll go down as the 'first floor farter'" Isabelle went from red, to pale. Dani appeared to really like that name, and Iz could see it would not be the last time she heard it. Dani could not stop giggling. "Sorry Iz," she muffled through her laughter. "He heard...there is no way he didn't." Isabelle dropped her head back to the table, just as Lola and Dani went back to laughing. "I can't believe THAT was why you were late. Lewis was so pissed Dani, you should have seen her face." Lola added. Isabelle's shame increased at the last remark, her tale not being precisely the reason she was late. "Dani and Lola don't need to hear that part though." Dani hadn't joined the morning optional sessions, opting instead to get her class schedule organized for the year. "Well, maybe he didn't mind?" suggested Dani, smiling. Now they were just toying with her, Isabelle knew. "This should be good." Isabelle picked her head up, staring at her friend next to her on the bench, with a confounded look on her face. "How. Could you think. He didn't mind" Isabelle demanded, pausing between each part of the sentence. "Who knows Iz," Lola chimed in, "maybe he's into girls who fart around him....maybe, just maybe," Lola leaned forward toward Iz, pretending to be Avery in this situation, "maybe...if one day you're kissing him, he'll lean in, and whisper in your ear 'Oh Iz baby, Iz....just fart for me baby.'" This time, it was Dani who DID fall backward off the bench laughing. Lola could barely get the last words out of her mouth before she too burst out laughing. "Enough was enough" thought Isabelle, I must defend myself! Isabelle decided her best defense in that moment picking up a carrot stick and throwing it playfully at Lola. "Okay. Ha ha. I get it. But more important, he said he wanted to see me again soon. What should I do?" Isabelle inquired of her friends. After a few more minutes - more than Isabelle had appreciated - Lola and Dani had calmed down, at least enough to have a serious-ish conversation about her dilemma. Dani and Lola each had their own advice about her next steps, but Isabelle wasn't sure. Unlike her friends, she had never really had a boyfriend before. She had barely even ki -"No, not the time to think about that" she confided to herself. "Look Iz," Dani stated unequivocally, "if you really want to make this happen, you need to just make it happen. Don't wait for him to find you. Go find him later this afternoon or something, and just spend some time with him." The advice was sound, and Lola nodded. "Or better yet, invite him over Saturday night or something before classes start next week," Lola added. Her friends were probably right, she concluded, but there was a wrinkle. "I can't see him before the weekend. We have our showcases Wednesday, and I still need to come back after to set my class schedule." That made sense to her friends, but the next part seemed like an excuse. "And I made plans to babysit again next Saturday for the same family, so I can't see him this weekend either....oh well." Her friends shared her disappointment, but weren't convinced. Dani, had a solution "So just invite him over to you job. You said that those kids go to bed early anyway, and that you're alone bored the whole time. He can come by after their asleep!" Isabelle pondered the idea. It might work. Jess always told her she could invite friends to come over while she sat the kids. And technically, Avery was currently just a friend. "Not exactly romantic - I'm watching a baby and a toddler who is struggling to potty train. And my mom would KILL me if she found out I had a boy over there." That part was in fact true, and Isabelle valued having her mom's trust. "But I'll think about it." Isabelle tapped her feet together, bounced them, and continued stretching her slippers out on pointe. She obviously had a lot to think about with the Avery situation, but for now, she needed to get to the studio for her afternoon rehearsal before she lost the room at 3 PM. She looked up and across the cafeteria at the clock, spotting it was 1:34. "I'm heading to the studio. I'll see you guys later," Isabelle said excusing herself. After this morning's incident - not the Avery one...the other one - Isabelle was feeling a little queasy, and had ulterior motives for her exit. She wasn't feeling ill, she was just feeling...off, or unsure. "Better safe than sorry." She picked up her bag, heading out the cafeteria doors, and took a complex, winding route to a rarely used stairwell concealed near a side hallway. She opened the door into the staircase, and headed up two floors, tapping her slippers up each stair. "Just playing" she thought. It was fun to bounce up the stairs. Isabelle exited the stairwell on the second floor, made another turn, then another, and arrived at her destination. The women's bathroom in the media wing was her personal favorite. It was possibly the furthest from the dance studios, classrooms, and some of the visual arts rooms. In fact, the media room was rarely used. The only time it was used was when their choreographers wanted to review practice performances the dancers did before they performed for audiences. Isabelle had only found the room when she got lost after one such tape review in her freshman year, accidentally making a wrong turn on her way to her afternoon history class. Isabelle pushed the door open, and went to the second to last of four stalls - her preferred seat - and smiled when she saw the seat was still up. "No one has used this since it was cleaned" she thought. Without the urgency from earlier, Isabelle slowly removed her sweats, and placed them directly in her bag. "Those will need to go straight to the wash at home...they were on the bathroom floor," she reminded herself. Isabelle proceeded to slip her leotard off of each arm, slide it down, and pulled it down to her ankles. She then pulled the tights down, sat down on the toilet, and almost immediately, started peeing. As she sat there, she considered her friends' idea that she should invite Avery to the Williams house this weekend. "How would I even go about doing that," she asked herself. "I'd have to wait until Becky fell asleep. But if she keeps having....problems, she might come downstairs and find her with a stranger. She would certainly tell her mom." Isabelle grabbed some toilet paper, "and then Jess might mention something to my mom.....which would be less than ideal. I could....I could put another monitor in Becky's room, and listen to see if she gets up, and keep Avery in the basement.." Isabelle threw the toilet paper into the toilet, and flushed the toilet by twisting and pulling the lever down. "But Jess and John could come home at any time, and Jess would find out anyway in that case. Plus," she thought standing up, "he might say no. Which would be the worst possibility, obviously." Isabelle started pulling her tights up, followed by her leotard. As she slipped the sleaves over her arms, she noticed something odd. "Wha....why doesn't this fit...where did all this fabric come from..." It was curious indeed, this being one of her leotards from last year, that it would be big. "It must have stretched out in the wash or something," she concluded, "but I can't wear this for the showcase. It'll bunch, and look off. They dock points for the simplest things..." She remembered last year when poor Monica had been chastised for wearing the wrong shade of "off-white." Isabelle grabbed her bag, and unlocked the stall door, and headed to wash her hands. All finished in the bathroom, Isabelle wound her way through the various hallways in Higgins, masterfully working her way back to the small ballet studio. "Back to work" she instructed herself. "Time to nail this routine down." Isabelle pushed the studio door open, flicked the lights on, and set her music up. She was approaching this rehearsal with a renewed confidence. She moved toward the center of the studio, having put a delay in her music so she could set up, looked up, and saw her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes immediately diverted from her point of focus, and to her slippers - her special ballet slippers. Her mom's gift. Her most prized possession. For a moment, just a moment while looking at them, Isabelle was filled with an absolute sensation of joy, of warmth, of confidence. Confidence that she could do anything. Confidence that....that the world was at her fingertips. *SNAP* Isabelle's attention shifted to the music playing, and away from her daydream. "Shit. Late off the start" she muttered, jumping into her routine despite the slight delay. "Can't get distracted like that Wednesday...at least there no mirror on stage," she thought, dropping into her first plie. "Focus....Let's go." ****** Isabelle was glad to be home. She was exhausted from her day's events - both mentally and physically. "I'll need to take it easier tomorrow," she reminded herself. "I can't be tired for the showcase on Wednesday." she rolled over on the floor of her bedroom, just finishing her stretches, and catching her breath. Her afternoon had been productive, and she was confident she had her routine down pat. At first, Isabelle had been concerned about her timings, and if she would translate it well into a good performance. In the end, between her hard work, and the confidence...from her slippers... Isabelle was really pleased with her work. Isabelle left the ballet studio at 2:55, early enough so the next group/person could get in on time, and intended to go to the locker rooms to shower. But she had seen that her mom had texted her that she was leaving work early, and rather than inconvenience her to come pick her up later, Isabelle asked her to come then "Perfect timing mom. If you don't mind, can you swing by Higgins and get me now instead of later?" She received a smiley emoji in return, and so headed down to the front door to wait for her mom. 20 minutes later, Isabelle spotted her mom's car from inside the school doors, opened them up, and jogged out to the car in an effort to avoid the rain. She had been glad to have put her slippers back in her bag, but at the same time, missed them on her feet. She hopped into the front seat of the car, having to use a little more effort after her long day to lift herself up into the seat. "Why off early today mom?" she'd asked her mom, as she drove through the puddles on the road. "Oh nothing special. Robert came by my cubical and thanked me for all the extra time I had put in the last few weekends. He mentioned it hadn't gone unnoticed, and that I could take off early today. So I did!" Isabelle reflected on the conversation, as she wrapped up her last calf stretch, pulling the elastic band from around her left slipper back to the ground. She wasn't sure why she did, but she had put her slippers back on when she got home for her stretching routine. "No reason not to," she thought, as she tied the ribbons up her ankles. Back to her mom though - she was happy for her. She really did work hard, though what she did exactly, Isabelle never understood. "Data.....entry or something," she had tried to explain to Lola, "but they use the numbers to help with something in the...well another department in the company. But its important because without the analysis, they can't like....can't do the stuff they need to do." ... Yup. That about explained it. Isabelle proceeded to strip out of her sweaty ballet clothes, tossing them into her hamper. She placed her slippers back into their box, and moved toward her closet to put them on the high shelf. She stood there for a minute, looking back and forth from the box to the shelf, ultimately deciding, "I don't wanna put them way up there...".. Huh? Why not...."..that's where I keep my slippers though..." she thought. She reached up to put them away, but for some reason, she couldn't. Not because there was no room, but because....because she couldn't reach at all. "What the hell....there must be something blocking their way," she concluded. "I'm getting in the shower, I'm not dealing with this now." Isabelle instead laid the box on top of her desk, "easier to grab them tomorrow anyway" she concluded. Isabelle jaunted from her bedroom toward the bathroom - naked as the day she was born - hoping her mom wouldn't spot her. She didn't like Isabelle running around naked, even just to the bathroom. Said it was a "bad habit." Safely in the bathroom, Isabelle started running the shower, and returned to the toilet to do her business. Once done, she flushed, and pushed the shower curtain aside to the welcome steam of her shower-tub, excited to get in. Isabelle climbed into the shower, and within seconds, was playing out fantasies in her mind. Fantasies of perfecting her showcase on Wednesday. Fantasies of getting a leading role in the fall, or even the spring show. Fantasies of offers to join companies, both foreign and domestic. Fantasies of her friends coming to see her perform, her mom in the best seat in the house, her -- "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKK" Out of nowhere, her warm, relaxing, steamy shower, went ice cold. Her body, just seconds ago unwinding and de-tensing in the warm mist of her fantasies, had been so rudely interrupted. She bad been shocked back to reality, whether she liked it or not. "MOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM-UHHHHHH" She shouted once more. "MOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM! THE WATERRRRR." Isabelle quickly shut the water off, and wrapped herself in her towel. This was not going how she had planned. She opened the door to the bathroom, and attempted to garner her mother's attention once more. "MOM! THE WATER IS FRICKIN FREEZING. WHAT IS GOING ON?!?!?" She shouted down the stairs. Her Mom had a bit of a delay responding, but Isabelle thought she could hear her turn on the kitchen tap. "Oh Sweetie, it seems the hot water heater must be on the frtiz again! I'll call David right now and see when he can get it fixed." David, their landlord, was a nice oaf of a man, and really was a good landlord. But Isabelle knew one thing for certain - the problem was not going to be fixed tonight. Isabelle was not sure what was coming over her. It was...anger...she was frustrated. "I earned a hot shower," she told herself. "This simply isn't fair. It. Is. Not. Fair." ... "Of course it wasn't fair, but these things happen" she reminded herself. "No reason to be angry. Get over yourself..." ... Or at least that's what she normally would have convinced herself of. Instead, Isabelle stomped her way out of the bathroom, screaming to no one in particular "This is RIDICULOUS. I worked HARD today, I danced ALL DAY, I. Want. A. Hot. SHOWER!" Isabelle practically shouted the last word, and threw herself onto her bed with the last syllable, kicking her legs, banging her balled up fists into the bed, and screaming into her mattress, the sound muffled by her big comfy comforter. Downstairs, Jane could hear her daughter's complaints, stomping, culminating in what sounded like Isabelle smashing a punching bag they did not own. "I should check on her,' she told herself. Jane headed up the stairs, turned right at the top of the staircase, and made her way into Isabelle's ajar bedroom door. This was odd behavior from her daughter. She never behaved like this. "I mean, I understand she is frustrated...but this? This isn't like her" Jane was perplexed. "Sweetie...What's going on? I am sorry about the water, but is something else going on." She could hear her daughter sniffling into her bed. Isabelle had apparently exhausted herself from kicking and punching, and now, was laying still, crying into her bed. Maybe she had just had a bad day... maybe something happened...but she didn't say anything in the car," Jane reminded herself, "My Izzy would have said something to me..." At least Jane hoped she would have. Isabelle wanted to answer her mom. She really did. But what was there to say? Isabelle literally had no idea what she had just done. Something had overtaken her, taken control of her entirely, and she barely remembered what she had done in that moment. "Well, First I was shouting," she thought, "...then something...I had stomped...maybe? Yah...I was stomping around...and then...." why did she get on her bed all wet in her towel? "And what was I fighting? Why was I kicking and punching?" And now, she was...she was. She was crying. crying into her bed - she couldn't even admit these parts to herself with her internal voice. But it was obvious what had happened. "In sum, Iz, why the hell did you just throw a temper tantrum?" she asked herself, seemingly regaining some self-control. Isabelle picked her head up, and sat up. "Mom, I'm sorry. I don't...I don't know what happened." she mustered. "I think I must just be stressed about the showcase on Wednesday," Isabelle deduced. "I'm not sure why, I was rehearsing today and everything was going well. I think..." she swallowed, "I think its just been a long few days, and I haven't been sleeping well. I'm sorry for shouting." At the very least, the explanation was plausible, Isabelle concluded. And her mom seemed to buy it. Jane had, in fact, bought it. She had let her daughter explain herself, and just smiled in response. "It's okay sweetie. It happens. For what its worth, I would hate for the shower to go cold on me. So I get it," she empathized, with a playful wink. "Why don't you dry off and put on some PJS, and well have some popcorn and watch that show you were telling me about...something with ballerinas, right?" The idea sounded welcoming. Isabelle nodded, "Okay mom. That sounds nice. Its a pretty horrible show, but also, I think I love it." Jane laughed. It didn't quite make sense to her, but if it made Isabelle happy, that was all that mattered. "I'll go make the popcorn," Jane said soothingly, "you just meet me downstairs." Isabelle nodded, and picked herself up. As her mom left the room, and close the door, Isabelle used the towel to dry herself off properly. Her comforter was a little wet, which annoyed her, but hopefully it would dry off by the time she came up to go to sleep. Isabelle took a pair of panties and a sleeping shirt from her dressed, and went to the bathroom to hang her towel. She slipped the oversized shirt on over her head, and proceeded to wrap her hair up in a "hair towel" so it could dry. She slipped her panties up her legs, and headed back to her room to fetch a pair of warm, flannel pants. The night was still cool from the rain, and she wanted to feel warm and comforter. She grabbed a pair of green and white flannel pants from the top of the bottom dresser drawer, bent over, and pulled them up. 'To the basement," she told herself. "Woah, Woah, WOAH," Isabelle had nearly completely wiped out when she tried to take a step. She had nearly slipped, and fallen right on her feet, but luckily caught herself by throwing a hand up on her dresser. Isabelle peered down, wondering what she had slipped on, when she realized it was her flannel pants. The pants were so long, the legs of them hung almost completely over her feet. "That was silly of me" she thought, "I could have killed myself on the stairs or something. Isabelle rolled the pants up on her waist once, twice, "seriously? three rolls? who the hell did these used to belong to?" she thought, before her feet were finally free from the pant legs. Isabelle, now convinced her pants were at a safe length, and her nose picking up the scent of buttered popcorn, headed gleefully down the stairs to watch some terrible - yet excellent - TV with her mom. Maybe this is just what she needed to relax. 4 Link to comment
BabySofia Posted March 15, 2023 Share Posted March 15, 2023 I think she's about to have a serious wardrobe issue! Continuing to enjoy this tale! (Somehow I have a feeling she may have the boy over, but it won't be a date by then!) ? 1 Link to comment
kerry Posted March 15, 2023 Share Posted March 15, 2023 Still a wonderful piece of work. I'm a bit confused about why it is that her shoes seem to be getting tighter while she is shrinking...and why her mom doesn't notice anything...but I'm having too much fun to focus on it. 1 Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted March 16, 2023 Author Share Posted March 16, 2023 3 hours ago, kerry said: Still a wonderful piece of work. I'm a bit confused about why it is that her shoes seem to be getting tighter while she is shrinking...and why her mom doesn't notice anything...but I'm having too much fun to focus on it. Thank you for the feedback. I really appreciate it. The tighter shoes was actually something I added in post-edits, and reflecting on it, didn't love. I edited that portion out. I had intended on using it later, but reflecting on it, not something I want to include. As for the rest of your comments, well, those will be addressed shortly. I promise ?. I had intended to post another chapter tonight, but looks like it might not be until Saturday. If I get lucky, maybe tomorrow. Link to comment
Olympiczero Posted March 16, 2023 Author Share Posted March 16, 2023 The Ballet Slippers - Chapter 9 Tuesday morning came and went without much fanfare. Isabelle was glad to have relaxed with her mom the night before, cozy on the couch next to her. The popcorn had been particularly tasty, as well. Isabelle slept calmly that night, her tantrum forgotten. The rain from yesterday had started to dry under the morning sun. It was far more pleasant to wake up to the sunlight streaming into her room, rather than the beating of rain. Her body felt great, despite having worked out her routine quite hard the day before. "I'll need to take more of a rest day today," she thought. "Wednesday will be important." Isabelle made a point of heading straight to the kitchen after waking up, careful to wrap her pants a few times before taking a step. "Not risking slipping the day before the showcase." Isabelle had popped down the stairs, and immediately went to make her morning coffee. "Not going to let THAT problem happen again." As the coffee brewed, Isabelle headed to the front door to pick up the newspaper. She bent down, "ooooh..my bladder," Isabelle thought, "I really have to pee.....no. Later." Isabelle took the paper, and went back to the kitchen, enough coffee having brewed after a few minutes for her to pour a cup, and that was exactly what she did. Isabelle sat down at the counter, pulling a stool out, and popping on to it cross-legged, propping her butt up of off her legs. She navigated to the Sudoku puzzle in the newspaper, and pulled the single page out, starting to work on it as she sipped her coffee. After a few numbers, Isabelle started really struggling with the puzzle, deflecting her frustration "I'm just distracted because of the showcase," she concluded. She lifted her mug, pouring the last bits of coffee into her mouth, just as the urgency to pee was reaching its maxim. "Better hurry," she thought, hopping off of the stool and practically shimmying her way to the stairs, careful not to move one foot too far in front of the other, lest she risk peeing on the floor. Isabelle really did need to go. Fortunately, she made it upstairs to the bathroom in time to relieve herself, taking her time to let the recently consumed coffee to do its job. Seated, Isabelle tried to work on calming her nerves before her big day. It was all she could think about, and if she didn't find a more productive way to pass the time, she was worried she would lose it a bit. Her pee was still echoing in the toilet bowl "thank god I made it...,that would have been a mess," she laughed to herself. "That would be the day," mockingly dismissing the idea she could legitimately have an "accident." Isabelle continued to sit there until she had finished with her poop, wiping, flushing, and then going through her bathroom routine. "I'll just go to school, maybe read in the library and see if Dani or Lola show up" she concluded "Mom can get me back on her way from work." Her real motivation, of course, was to orchestrate another accidental run in with Avery. She hadn't decided how to proceed yet, but, she wanted to try and build up the courage to invite him to Jess's place on Saturday. Though not ideal, it was practically the only chance she would get alone with him before classes started up, and both of them would be far, far busier. Her heart raced at the mere thought. Jane woke up at her usual time, and started getting ready for her day. She would have a somewhat manageable day, she thought, and wasn't in any particular rush. Jane was not sure why, but she was still a little concerned about Isabelle. Isabelle had looked a lot better on her way up to bed, but her fit had stuck with Jane. "Its been YEARS since she's blown up like that," Jane thought to herself. "I'll have to tread carefully this week. She must be stressed, her first showcase and all." she concluded. Jane was happy that Isabelle had friends like Dani and Lola to help support her and guide her - they knew what she was going through, having been through it themselves already. Coming down the stairs, Jane was thrilled to hear that Isabelle wanted to spend the day productively at school, and even happier at the mention that she intended to find Lola and Dani at the library. Her daughter was dressed more casually, in simple leggings and a t-shirt, carrying another zip-up in her arm. Jane also noted that Isabelle's dance bag was at the front door. 'Not dancing today, are you?" Jane asked, as she sped her morning routine up, not wanting to give Isabelle the time to change her mind. "Nope. I Just brought it in case. Better to have your stuff than not. Jane nodded, wrapped up her morning, and got into the car with Isabelle, heading straight to Higgins with her. Jane pulled up in front, leaned in and kissed her daughter on the cheek "Love you, i'll be back at 3 today. I'm going to work from home tonight" and receiving a smile in return. Isabelle hopped out, and was through the front doors of Higgins in a jiffy. Jane headed to work. Isabelle found the main library quite quiet that morning. Other than a few students passing time before setting their schedules, the head librarian behind her desk, and a couple of student-volunteers (or detentionees) stocking shelves by index code, the room was practically empty. The school library had always been a place Isabelle enjoyed. It was grande; two floors, with these wide, old oak shelves lining both floors. The second story ran just the permitter of the library, leaving a wide open space with French chandeliers dropped down, the original candlestick holders retrofitted for lightbulbs. The library had some historical significance that Isabelle had learned about on her Freshman tour around the school, but had since long forgotten. The best part of the library was, in Isabelle's humble opinion, it was rarely used to borrow books. Most Higgins students could purchase whatever they wanted, and so the idea of borrowing a used copy of, well, anything, was beyond their understanding. But Isabelle, being the avid reader she was, took full advantage. A new hardback could run anywhere from 20 to 30 dollars. Here, she had tons of books at her disposal - for free. And unless another student requested a book you had out, there was no deadline to return it. The best part, Isabelle reminded herself, was that if the library did not have a book in stock, or a new release was coming out, you could put in a request for the book to be ordered. Since so few students requested books, Isabelle's requests were always approved. In fact today, she was particularly excited because she had received a notice in her school e-mail inbox that her most recent request had been fulfilled, and was available to borrow. "A welcome distraction," she thought. Isabelle approached the librarian's desk, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone she knew was around. While Isabelle was excited for her book, she was also in no hurry to share with anyone else what she was reading. "The Emerald Chronicles" were not exactly the types of books 18 year old adults read. They were considered......juvenile at best. But Isabelle had started the series when she was younger, "I'm almost just reading it ironically now," she told herself. But she knew that wasn't true. Isabelle even knew a tv series had been developed based on the show. It wouldn't be long before it was out. 'Not that I'll watch it.' Content that no one around knew her, Isabelle approached the desk. "Good morning Mr. Barns," Isabelle started - seeing that one of her favorite teachers in the school had been focused intensely on something else. "Ah, Isabelle. I was wondering when you would show up after I sent the notice out." Isabelle was probably one of only a handful of students that Mr. Barns actually knew by name. "I even kept it back here, expecting that you might come collect it," he said with a wink. As Mr. Barns turned and headed into the stacks behind him, Isabelle was unsure if Mr. Barns was complicit in her efforts to conceal her shame, or if he was just being friendly. Either way, she was already blushing, and started checking around her to confirm she hadn't missed someone she might know at the library. Satisfied - for the second time - she turned back to the table to see Mr. Barns right in front of her. "Woah!" Isabelle almost shouted. "Spooked you did I?" Mr. Barns asked playfully. "I certainly hope not. Well, here it is, fresh off the press. 'Emerald Chronicles: The Everlasting Night.' I hope you enjoy it!" As soon as Mr. Barns had released it, Isabelle had tucked it under her arm, and covering it with her zip-up, preventing anyone else from seeing. That had not gone unnoticed by Barns. "Thank you Mr. Barns. I'll er...drop it off in the drop box when I'm done," Isabelle concluded. "You can always drop it off with me instead," Mr. Barns noted, "I always like to know what our young readers are enjoying. You should be proud you're such an active reader!" Young readers? She was practically the oldest student in the school. But a student nonetheless. "Okay....Will do if the library is open when I return it!" Why did Isabelle commit herself to that? Isabelle turned, and walked to the spiral staircase at the near wall. She headed up the stairs, turned along the short side of the library, and headed to the opposite corner. Isabelle walked through the first stack of books, made a left, and then seated herself at one of the small individual carrels. This desk was always a favorite of hers, located in one of the most infrequently used sections of the library. In fact, Isabelle was not even sure what section this was catered to, having never once seen another student in this area. Isabelle sat down, revealing her guilty pleasure from underneath her arm, and placing it on her carrel. Isabelle re-directed her attention to her ballet bag, opening it up. "I'm not dancing today," she said, "but there is no reason I can't continue working my feet into the slippers." In fact, there was no good reason to do it. The slippers, Isabelle knew, were perfect. Working them in further would do nothing. But, Isabelle wanted to wear the slippers - that was the real reason she had brought the bag. Isabelle took them out, resting them on the desk. Isabelle kicked off her sneakers, revealing beige tight-like sockettes she was wearing underneath. Isabelle slid her sneakers into her bag, zipped it up, and slid it under her carrel. Isabelle picked up the slippers - the warmth of their touch soothing her instantly, and one at a time, slipped them on each foot, letting out a sigh of satisfaction "Ahhhhhhh......That feels.......yes." Isabelle stretched her legs out underneath the desk, turning her toes up and extending the stretch in her calf, before dropping her slippers to the floor. "Time to do some damage," she thought, opening to the first page of the book, "McCallister suggested we'd finally get answers to the time lapse theory, and some more insight into the missing mystical goblet." Sally McCallister - the author of the book - had recently released a podcast where Isabelle had learned this. Slowly but surely, Isabelle lost herself in the imaginative and seductive world of the Emerald Kingdoms. It took everything in her control to not audibly gasp at the revelation of the goblin tunnel underneath Ruby Red Castle, or shriek at the revelation that Princess Henrietta had not in fact perished in the wolf attack in the Great Plains of Buttermilk halfway through the second book. Isabelle had always liked the Princess Henrietta character. Page by page, chapter by chapter, Isabelle fell more and more into a world she was ashamed of, but truthfully loved. She had planned on eating lunch in the cafeteria, but instead, resorted to eating the granola bars she had packed in her bag, anticipating that she might be...too distracted for lunch. Isabelle kept telling herself "just one more chapter, and then you need to check your phone," but one chapter turned to two, and two turned to four. Isabelle was about halfway through the book when her heart stopped. "Isabelle?" a voice asked, inquisitively. "Please. Please let this be a practical joke. Please do not tell me that what I think is happening, is actually happening." Isabelle was too scared to confront the reality, keeping her eyes down on book. "Isabelle?" the voice repeated, "What are you doing here?" There was no avoiding this now. The voice, of course, belonged to Avery. "Who else would find me in this situation, BUT him. Offffffff course." She said to herself. "You need to say something, or even just look at him, you dummy. You look insane." Isabelle, using every fiber of her being, turned her head to her left, to see Avery standing over her. He looked spectacular, his arms bulging out of his collared shirt. He actually looked trimmer than last year. "He must be working out...how did I not notice that yesterday, "Isabelle thought, longingly. "Hey Avery.....What are YOU doing back here?" she asked, probably in more of an accusing tone that she had intended. As she did, she started sliding her book to her lap, hoping he hadn't seen what it was. "I'm picking up some books...and your desk chair is kind of in the way," he responded with a smile. He always seemed to calm and in control. "Oh! Sorry," Isabelle responded, nearly jumping out of the way. "Thanks," Avery responded, tracing his eyes across the books, seemingly looking for one in particular. "Smooth Iz....very smooth," she thought. Just when she thought she was out of the fire, Avery continued. "That wouldn't have happened to be that new Emerald Magic book you were reading, was it?" ... ... "Why......WHY ALL THE TIME ME?!?!" Isabelle's inner monologue was bursting. "Wait. Don't panic. It could be worse. He knows what it is. Maybe, just maybe - " She was cut off, as Avery just had to continue "My little sister loves those books. She wouldn't shut up about how my mom needed to take her to the book store this morning to get it. She'd be jealous that you're already halfway through by the looks of it." ... ... "WHHHHHHYYYYYY?!?!" This was going to be here absolute demise. Why did this boy always have to see her at her worst?!? "And yes Iz," inner voice continued, "he did say LITTLE sister. How had he even known she was halfway through - he was starring at a bookshelf." Isabelle realized she had barely spoken at all yet. She needed to turn this around. "Ummm haha yah it is. I was...uh...I used to read these when I was younger. I was bored and just thought I'd see how awful it was." Isabelle was actually content with that answer, but Avery's response was strange. "Oh cool. You're luckier than my sister than. Mom only let her start reading the series at the start of the summer, used to say it wasn't age appropriate." AH-HA. "Not all that bad then, Iz. He at the very least thinks the book has some level of maturity requirement." Isabelle had never met Avery's mom, but already loved her. "Time to change the topic," she thought. "What are you getting here. I don't often see people come back here," Isabelle asked, just as Avery pulled his book off the shelf. "Mr. Barns has been helping me locate some composite books collecting old English poetry, or should I say 'Ye Olde English poetry.' I..err..sort of enjoy reading it as a hobby." He concluded, as though it was something to be embarrassed about. "Seriously? The guy reads poetry too? And here I am reading about the Ruby Red Castle....though...I can't wait to find out what's really in the North Tower.....STOP." Isabelle snapped out of her fantasy world, and back to her fantasy in the real world. She now knew why no one came to this section - it was for poets! Old English Poets! Isabelle's mind was returning to her thoughts from earlier in the day, her friends encouraging her to 'put herself out there.' She needed to do this. Needed to do it now. "Now or never," she thought, feeling that strange warmth from her slippers, filling her with a sense of confidence. And just then, just as Avery was starting to excuse himself; "So look, I'm off, but you'll have to let me know how the rest of your book was when you're done. See ya" "Oh god. Back to the book. Now or never Iz. DO IT." ... Just as Avery turned to leave, Isabelle blurted out, far too loud: "DOYUWNTTACMMEOVRONSATRDYIMBBYSITNGBTYOUCNCOMURALLWD" ......."What the hell was that Iz?!?!" Her request hadn't even made sense. Avery turned back, chuckling. "Sorry...I don't think I caught that. What did you just shout?" he asked, smiling as if to ease the tension. "Oh god.......this couldn't be worse." Isabelle's heart was racing. She was sweating out of palms, down her neck, and just about everywhere else. Her feet, lying comfortably in her slippers, were bouncing off of the ground, unable to stay still. But there was no avoiding it now. Isabelle took a deep breath, and tried one more time. "Do you want...to come over to a family's house....noy my family, I mean my house...See I babysit for a family...and I'm there on Saturday....this Saturday...I mean I am there all the time...well not all the time...What I mean is that I babysit for them lots....and I wanted to know if you wanted to come and hang out......the kids go to sleep, and I'm always bored, you see.....and you said you wanted to hang out or whatever.....and the family knows...they tell me all the time to have" she thought carefully to not just use the word 'friend' there "...people over...So....do you want to....you know...come hang out." The last part came out as just a whisper. Isabelle was starring at her slippers, unable to muster the courage to look Avery in the eye when he denied her. "Oh...Iz..." Here it came - "the blow I can't handle...but I knew he would say no....what was I thinking.." Isabelle was resigning herself, just as Avery continued "I would have loved to, if I'm allowed that is, but my family spends the last weekend before school at our beach house. Sort of a tradition, you see?" "That wasn't a no. In fact, it was practically a yes. It was a YES. It was a 'but for', like, 'but for my stupid rich family and our beach house, I would have come.'" Isabelle looked up, meeting Avery's eyes. She could see he was genuinely disappointed. "Even better! He not only wanted to say yes, but he's bummed about it!" Avery continued "I really am sorry. But we can hang another time for sure once school starts. We can hang at yours, or at mine. You can meet my sister too," he suggested. Isabelle was hoping it was merely a kindness since he brought her up earlier. "Sure! Not a problem. Have fun this weekend at the beach!" Isabelle was putting on her most courageous smile. In actuality, it was not that hard. Her crush WANTED to see her. This was a win. "I'll have to tell the girls!" Isabelle was bursting inside. "Sounds good," Avery said, "And ya, it's usually the last weekend we go up. Maybe one day you can come see the place" ... "Do my ears deceive me, or did Avery practically make plans with me for NEXT SUMMER?!?!?" With a big smile on her face, and heart finally settling to a normal rhythm, Isabelle simply said "I'd like that." Avery once more excused himself, and headed off. With all of the excitement of the day, Isabelle had lost track of time. She turned to see the time on the clock face of the wall, which was just cutoff but the bookshelf. She popped on pointe on her slippers to clear the obstacle - "I knew there was a good reason to wear these today," and saw it was nearly 3 PM. "Mom will be here at 3:30. Better pack up." With that, Isabelle swapped her slippers for her sneakers, packing them up in her ballet bag. She grabbed her sweater, sure to wrap her book up in it, and avoid anymore...problems. Isabelle walked out of the stacks, back along the back wall of the library, down the spiral stairs, and toward the library. On her way out, she saw Avery with a friend by a central table in the lower reading room, high-fiving him "Maybe it's about me?" Isabelle thought. With that in mind, she passed close enough to the table on her way to the exit, intent on eavesdropping... .... But to no success. there was some nonsense about sports or something, and maybe food? Other than that, the only words she could hear were "beach," 'sophomore," and what sounded like "haby" or "paby" or something, she couldn't pick up on anything else. Avery was probably on about something else. And the last thing she needed was to be caught eavesdropping after things had gone so well. Isabelle made her way out to the front of the school, identifying her mom's car immediately. "I hope she wasn't waiting long." Isabelle jogged toward the car, seemingly out of respect, and opened the front seat to get in. "Oh sweetie, I have all sorts of groceries and stuff up here, just hop in the back. Shrugging. Isabelle closed the door, and opened the rear car door, sliding into the seat behind the front passenger seat. "I don't mind mom. It makes me feel like I am being chauffeured," She joked, "Now snap snap Butler Mom, to the House!" Isabelle exclaimed. She had to get ready for tomorrow. 3 Link to comment
![[DD] Boards & Chat](https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/uploads/monthly_2021_11/DDweb-02.png.0c06f38ea7c6e581d61ce22dffdea106.png)
Recommended Posts
Create an account or sign in to comment
You need to be a member in order to leave a comment
Create an account
Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!
Register a new accountSign in
Already have an account? Sign in here.
Sign In Now