Page 28 - Philly Girl

12 Janice Shapiro

my questions to myself. I said nothing. Miss Goldy began
getting us ready for the recital. Besides practicing our steps,
we all had to collect money to purchase our white tutus with
tulle skirts, our feather tiaras, and our white tights. We were
instructed to paint our slippers silver.
On the day of the recital, we all gathered at the com-
munity room at the local department store. My mother and
sister came to watch me. Arlene’s family came en masse:
there must have been 50 of them in the audience. I thought
this was a bit odd; Arlene, by now, was dancing with great
difficulty, and she looked terrible. We danced our Dying
Swan number, everyone applauded loudly, and the tears
flowed freely. In fact, people in the audience were sobbing. I
really did not understand what was going on.
A month later, Miss Goldy announced that Arlene had
died—of leukemia. She asked us for a moment of silence to
remember “one of our own dying swans” ... my nine-year-old
friend, Arlene.