As I changed, I watched my stuff like a hawk. When I walked across the room to check my hair in the mirror, I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure nobody went near my bag. I must have looked pretty paranoid. But I didn't care. Knowing that I had everything I needed for class made me feel safe. I was sure that everything would go smoothly that day.

    "Coming, Jessi?" asked Katie Beth. "I see you brought your toe shoes this time." I gritted my teeth. Sometimes Katie Beth can be really irritating. "For your information," I answered, "I brought them last time, too." "Sure, Jessi," said Katie Beth. "Anything you say." She ran on ahead, into the studio. I walked behind her, giving her dirty looks.

    "Why zee cloudy face, Mademoiselle Romsey?" asked Madame as I walked into the room.

    I changed my frown to a smile, in a flash. "Good afternoon, Madame Noelle," I said, trying to sound happy. By then she was busy picking out the records for the day's practice, and she just nodded at me.

    "All right, mademoiselles," she said. "Let us begin zee warm-up." We took our places at the barre and began to work through the familiar exercises that I could probably do in my sleep. Sometimes I wonder just how many plies I've done over the years, rising and falling to the sound of tinkly piano music.

    When I was younger, taking beginner's classes, we used to play fun little games. For example, the teacher used to let us guess what the music was after each exercise. The records were always classical arrangements of simple songs like "Three Blind Mice," and we were very competitive about seeing who could guess right most often.

    But games like that are out of the question now. Mme Noelle's class is serious. We don't giggle, we don't whisper, and we don't ask questions like, "What's fifth position, again?" But you know what? Even though the early days were fun, I like this ultraserious kind of class even better.