In this brand-new episode, I’m building up to something exciting. And an update on the series I said I was going to make – I may hold off on that and just focus on the dolls backstage. Because everyone has serieses (?), but no one has stories that happen backstage. Don’t beat me to the idea!
Without further adieu, here’s the next tale.
“Issa, could you come to the Junk Room for a minute?”
Issa hated going to The Junk Room, as the dumping ground was affectionately called. There was always a flurry of stuff in there, and most of it was Autumn’s. Autumn was out at a friend’s for the day, so if Sophia called her to The Junk Room, that meant she was going to have to pick up Autumn’s stuff for her.
Reluctantly cracking open the door, she was about to plead for mercy with Sophia (couldn’t they clean it up when Autumn got home?) when she stopped short.
“Ta-da!” said Sophia with a port-de-bra-like flourish. “The Junk Room is junky no longer.”
“Sophia…!” said Issa excitedly. She couldn’t think why, but she started a little dance.
First a basic tendu, just like the one she’d seen Sophia do so many times;
then a port-de-bra;
then a step forward, to prepare for the jete,
which she landed in a perfect, arms-up split.
Sophia’s eyes nearly bugged out. “Why, Issa,” she said, splitting down next to her, “that was beautiful!”
“Thanks,” said Issa sheepishly. “I’ve just been -”
“Issa,” said Sophia, “you know that both your parents were dancers. You ought to be one, too. It’s what you were born to do.”
“Two corrections,” Issa said, standing up like she was about to do something. Sophia got out of the way. “First off, my dad was an accountant who danced with my mom as a hobby. Secondly, I wasn’t born to dance.”
She hunched her shoulders forward, bent her knees, and
flipped backward into the air like an esteemed gymnast. What she didn’t realise about her trick was that the ceiling was too short, so when her feet clobbered on it, and nearly busted a light,
her backflip collapsed, and she landed on the gorund, knocking the breath clean out of her.
“Are you okay?” asked Sophia, knowing somehow that she would be.
“I’m fine,” she gasped, trying to regain air.
“So you want to be a gymnast?”
“No,” she answered. “A taiso senshu.”
“It’s Japanese,” Issa laughed. “It literally means a gymnast, but that’s not really what it is.”
“Sure. Taiso is a form of free-running. Kind of like what you need to be able to do if you want to be a ninja.”
Sophia’s eyebrows went up. “You want to be a ninja?”
“No, but I really, really want to learn it nonetheless.”
Issa laughed. “Why not?”
“And where have you been learning this?”
“I’ve been reading a lot about it.”
Sophia laughed. “I didn’t get good at dance just by reading, Issa.”
“Well, I want a teacher, but there aren’t any here. I have, however, been talking to someone through the ‘Net who’s been giving me pointers.”
“Yes. Her name’s Hanoka Norman. She’s been teaching taiso for five years now. I really want to learn from her, but she lives in Saskatchewan.”
“No good there.”
“Yeah. No good.”
“Well, Issa, I’m sure something will come your way. You’ll just have to be patient.”
Issa smiled. “Sure.”
“And Issa, why is your hair wet?”
She covered her hand with her mouth. “I forgot to tell you – I finally got the fruit punch out of my hair!”
Disclaimer: taiso senshu is NOT actually real. I made it up for the purpose. You’ll find out more about it in tales to come.
Disclaimer: Do not backflip in the house. It will mess you up.
Disclaimer: I did a horrible job editing the backflip photo. Forgive me!
Disclaimer: This is the last disclaimer.
Hope you enjoyed!