other girls knew it. I looked in the mirror at our reflection, at the
twelve girls, sleek and shiny, pirouetting blurs of black, white and pink.
Then at myself, large and gray.
When the lesson finished, Caroline told me to buy a leotard and
dance shoes.
“I can’t,” I said.
“Oh.” She looked uncomfortable. “Maybe one of the girls can lend
you one.”
She’d misunderstood. She thought I didn’t have money. “It isn’t
modest,” I said. Her lips parted in surprise. These Californian Moyles,
I thought.
“Well, you can’t dance in boots,” she said. “I’ll talk to your mother.”
A few days later, Mother drove me forty miles to a small shop whose
shelves were lined with exotic shoes and strange acrylic costumes. Not
one was modest. Mother went straight to the counter and told the
attendant we needed a black leotard, white tights and jazz shoes.
“Keep those in your room,” Mother said as we left the store. She
didn’t need to say anything else. I already understood that I should not
show the leotard to Dad.
That Wednesday, I wore the leotard and tights with my gray T-shirt
over the top. The T-shirt reached almost to my knees, but even so I was
ashamed to see so much of my legs. Dad said a righteous woman never
shows anything above her ankle.
The other girls rarely spoke to me, but I loved being there with them.
I loved the sensation of conformity. Learning to dance felt like learning
to belong. I could memorize the movements and, in doing so, step into
their minds, lunging when they lunged, reaching my arms upward in
time with theirs. Sometimes, when I glanced at the mirror and saw the
tangle of our twirling forms, I couldn’t immediately discern myself in
the crowd. It didn’t matter that I was wearing a gray T-shirt—a goose
among swans. We moved together, a single flock.
We began rehearsals for the Christmas recital, and Caroline called
Mother to discuss the costume. “The skirt will be how long?” Mother
said. “And sheer? No, that’s not going to work.” I heard Caroline say
something about what the other girls in the class would want to wear.
“Tara can’t wear that,” Mother said. “If that’s what the other girls are