The brief rays of light that shone through before the curtains were tugged shut illuminated the blonde streaks in Belle?s hair as she collapsed onto Alice?s recently vacated chair in a fit of tears, tucking her legs up so her graceful, elf like figure was hunched in a tiny ball.
"Belle", Rowland said, smiling.
"Yes?"
"What? ?s up?"" His eyes were fixed on her, a look of sadness on his face.
"I can?t do it. I?m not as good as any of the other girls" She sniveled and started looking evasively around the room in an attempt to stop herself crying. There was a large shelf in the corner that held all the collected trophies Rowland?s girls had won over the years, each one was polished and gleaming. Everyone knew he was immensely proud of his past students and considered every one of their winnings as personal accomplishment.
"Hey, hey, it?s okay. I think you?re getting a lot better, improving every day. And I?m the coach, not the other girls. So you listen to me. Okay?" He said reassuringly.
She smiled and whispered ?Thank you Rowland,? extending a hand up to brush away her tears.
?My pleasure? He grinned, slowly moving closer and taking a seat beside her.
There were a few other girls in the corner of the room, either doing their make-up in the huge mirror that lined the back wall or stretching against the bar.
Rowland leaned forward, ?Hey, come with me a minute.? He smiled at her and outstretched his hand for her to take it.
He lead her out of the gym, through the back stage exit and along a corridor she?d never been through before, although she knew it to contain all the dressing rooms for dancers.
They walked to the very end and then halted in front of a large, wreath adorned door. There was jewel encrusted name plaque just above the handle and Rowland nodded pointedly towards it. ?See that?? He said, ?Rosie Floyd!?
Belle gasped silently. Rosie Floyd was the dancer she?d seen on TV. The dancer that coached major celebrities. That had her own show. That walked the red carpet in stunning gowns with all the movie stars.
?Did you know this was here?? Rowland asked.
She shook her head and whispered ?You coached Rosie Floyd??
?Oh yeah, one of my best creations, she was. You see Belle, I take normal girls and turn them into amazing dancers. That?s what you?ll be one day, mark my words. You?re not like them others girls. You don?t dance like them. You?re special girl.?
?You think?? she said excitedly.
?Course I do! Now, do you wanna see inside?
?Yes please!?
He watched her, smiling, as she stood before the ornamented fireplace, mouth gaping at the many medals and trophies hanging above it on the wall. She longingly caressed the plush, ballet slipper shaped cushions and silky leotards before taking a seat in front of the huge pink dressing table.
?It?s like she never left? Belle whispered breathlessly.
?I?ve kept it this way for almost ten years now.? Rowland explained proudly. ?She doesn?t use it no more and I was adamant that no other dancer could have this room unless she was as good as Rosie. Now no such girl has come my way and so I?ll keep this place locked up until she does.?
?But why are you showing me?? Belle asked.
?Because, Isabella, I believe you can be the next Rosie Floyd. I have faith in you girl.
She blushed under the harsh light.
Rowland walked up to her slowly and crouched beside her on the floor, pushing the loose wisps of hair behind her ears before rubbing his hands together and saying ?So,
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