slowly curling back into an upright position. After a couple of those, she did a few more with her legs a little further apart. She swayed her hips a bit from side to side to loosen up her joints.
From there, she started on her knee bends, taking care to adhere to the restrictions Dr. Parker had imposed on her during their work together. She slowly turned her feet out between sets until her right knee started to object. The pain both pissed her off and motivated her to focus on keeping her movements exact.
She couldn’t risk setting herself back. She’d been through that once already.
As her father had so frankly mentioned during their conversation, the first setback came seven months after her initial surgery. Her surgeon had broken the news after one of her follow-up scans. The ACL tendon graft hadn’t been successful. The only option was a second, even more painful surgery.
Jasmine hadn’t wallowed in self-pity. She’d simply scheduled the surgery as soon as she could. Whatever she had to do to achieve her goal of becoming a professional ballerina, she’d do it. Which meant she took extra care in her exercises for the time being.
After warming up, she ran through her ballet positions. She might not be able to handle the rigorous routines she could before her injury, but she damn well intended to do as much work on her craft as she could every day. Dr. Parker had cleared her for barre work the month before. Jasmine now included position work as part of her daily routine.
With only a few minutes left before her appointment time, she stopped and walked over to the water cooler in a corner of the room. She filled one of the available paper cups and turned back around. She jumped when she saw a small figure curled up in one of the chairs.
“Oh, God,” she said, bringing a hand to her chest. “I didn’t see you there.”
She took a moment to settle herself and studied the figure. His or her knees were drawn up where a face should be and small arms were wrapped around the legs. All Jasmine really saw was a puffy teal coat, jeans covering slender legs, and glittery sneakers with bright pink accents perched on the edge of the chair’s seat. The colors made her think it was a little girl.
When had the child gotten there?
Dabbing at the drops of water she had spilled on her sweatshirt’s sleeve, she said, “Hi. My name’s Jasmine.”
The child slowly shifted. Her crossed arms lowered enough that Jasmine glimpsed a pair of wide gray-blue eyes and curly brown hair drawn back into a high ponytail secured with a pink rubber band. One of the girl’s hands emerged from the sleeve of her coat. The fingers wiggled a few times before the hand once again retreated.
A smile teased Jasmine’s lips. She couldn’t say what it was about the obviously shy kid, but she intrigued her.
“Is your mom or dad around?”
The girl nodded once. Jasmine guessed that was the only response she’d get.
“Ah. Were you watching me practice ballet?”
One more nod. The child’s arms lowered another inch or two, revealing a pretty face and an unsmiling, heart-shaped mouth.
“Have you ever performed ballet?”
A single shake of the head.
“Would you like to?”
A slight movement that Jasmine interpreted as a shoulder shrug.
“Well, ballerinas can’t perform in a chair,” she stated. “We need to practice on our feet in front of mirrors so we can make sure our posture and positions are correct. If you’d like to join me, you’re more than welcome.”
And with that, she returned to her spot in front of the mirrored wall. Her gaze remained focused on her form, deliberately not shifting to the girl. She started again at first position, turning her feet out and lifting her hands in a perfect arc at waist-height. Before she got to fourth position, there was a rustling sound behind her. The lump of teal and pink unfolded from the chair, finally pulling Jasmine’s eyes from herself in the mirror. She saw the girl standing in front of the chair watching her.
“It’ll be easier to move without the coat,” she said. “Drop it on the chair and step on up to the mirror. We ballerinas like to practice together. We learn from each other.”
The girl unzipped her coat and tugged it off, revealing a bright pink sweater bearing a glittery unicorn. When she walked over, the top of her head just reached Jasmine’s waist.