Chapter 4
They saw dancers.
Real dancers.
When the final note sounded, Clara ended in the center with one hand over her heart. Arthur stood beside her, breathing heavily but smiling.
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Then the applause exploded.
People stood up.
The judges stood too.
Even the host had tears in his eyes.
Dylan remained frozen at the side of the stage.
A few minutes earlier, he had mocked them.
Now he could not even look away.
Arthur walked toward him slowly.
Dylan swallowed.
“I…” he began, but his voice failed.
Arthur smiled gently.
“You said ballet was not easy,” he said. “You were right.”
Dylan lowered his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
Clara stepped closer.
“Don’t be sorry because we surprised you,” she said. “Be sorry because you thought age made us useless before the music even started.”
The hall went quiet again.
One of the judges stood and took the microphone.
“Before we announce the score,” she said, her voice shaking, “I think everyone here should know something.”
She looked at Clara.
“Clara Whitmore was once a principal ballerina. Arthur danced beside her for thirty-seven years. And Evelyn, the woman they danced for tonight, was their partner, their friend, and the reason this group returned to the stage.”
Gasps moved through the audience.
Dylan’s face turned pale.
He had not mocked beginners.
May you like
He had mocked legends.
The judge continued.
