w. @bellaxrinadall
belle supposes the age 7 and 8 is no longer one in which one should feel nervous about dance classes -- heart fluttering surely, but not nervous. yet so is belle, twenty years older than that, surrounded by a pinch of children that heart fluttering age as they head to the studio not two streets away from the school. it's a different kind of activity, she had heard, one that would do good for girls and boys, and that's what she repeats, helping one of the children with the tight pantyhose and with tying their tutus. "is this right?" she asks, eyebrows furrowed the slightly at no one in special -- father had never put her up to a ballet class, nor she had ever taken interest past the age of twenty, when it was much easier to just attend in beach shorts while clearly making a fool of yourself. for once, she was mostly at loss in here. "are there shoes for everyone?" she asks a nearby teacher, glancing at amy's bare feet.
