Our dance class went out for pizza afterwards. Betty wouldn’t stop talking about the ballet. Her enthusiasm helped me forget my dancing blunders, and during the ride home, I promised to teach her everything I had learned in class.
As I drifted off to sleep that night, having placed my ballet slippers in their proper place, I imagined our performance again. This time, we all pirouetted the same way. And Betty was there too, right by my side.