China Dolls Read Online Free PDF

several run-throughs, Mr. Biggerstaff asked everyone to get offstage except for the first line. Ruby, Grace, and I went back to the spot on the floor where we’d been earlier, only this time, instead of sitting cross-legged, Ruby slid down into splits and began to stretch. She was unbelievably limber. She was showing off, clearly, doing her best so that Mr. Biggerstaff, Charlie Low, and the others might notice her. I watched as Grace’s eyes narrowed, calculating. She held Ruby with her gaze and slowly spread her legs until she, too, was in a complete split, and then she raised her arms over her head and lowered her torso to the floor. Oh, yes, she was better than Ruby. From her impossible position, Grace inclined her head to look up at me. I plopped down next to them.
    “I’ll never get the steps,” I admitted mournfully.
    “And you have no natural talent either,” Ruby observed. It was the first time she’d spoken directly to me, and it was to say something that sounded pretty mean. But Grace elbowed Ruby, who grinned to show she hadn’t actually meant me any harm. “This isn’t real dancing. You’re plenty beautiful, but you need to put some feeling into your walk.”
    “Quiet over there.” Mr. Biggerstaff stared at us sternly. “If you want to talk, go outside. If you go outside, don’t come back.”
    I pulled my lips between my teeth and bit down hard. My fingers twisted in my lap. The longer I was here, the more I wanted this.
    “One more time, girls,” Mr. Biggerstaff said to the line onstage. “Five, six, seven, eight …”
    “You can dance if you can count,” Grace whispered. “Miss Miller, my dance teacher back home, drilled that into me. One, two, three, four. Five, six, seven, eight. Come. I’ll show you.” She led me to a corner, where we’d have space to practice. “It’s an easy routine—one I could have taught the second and third graders in Miss Miller’s school.”
    Grace explained that we were simply forming a big square. That I could hold in my head, even if my feet were still disobedient.
    Ruby came over to watch. She crossed her arms as she studied my movements. “Have you ever seen a woman with bound feet?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “I have. In Hawaii. You need to try walking like those women do—like you don’t want to put too much weight on your feet.”
    This time, when I took the first three steps, I pretended that my toes and the bones in my midfoot were broken and wrapped in binding cloth. I imagined myself floating across the floor, avoiding the anguish that any pressure would cause, sending the illusion of fragility, of a cloud drifting over moss. I dreamed I was happy and in love.
    Ruby beamed. “Better.”
    “Much better!” Grace agreed.
    Over the next half hour, girls in the first, second, and third lines did their routines twice and then were either chosen for the next round or dismissed. Those who looked sweet and dainty made it through, even if they hadn’t mastered all the moves. A feeling hovered over the room: If you aren’t pretty, then it doesn’t matter how talented you are . When our line was called, Grace reminded me to smile, and count in my mind, and not with my lips. (Only problem: I’d been taught never to show my teeth. If I had to smile, then I should cover my mouth with a demure hand.) Ruby told me to relax. ( Aiya! Like that would be possible.) But as the music played, I saw myself by a pond with weeping willows dripping their tendrils in the water, cranes flying across the sky, and soft fingers on my cheek. Ruby’s advice was working. We did the routine twice, and then Mr. Biggerstaff told us tocome to the front of the stage. He spoke quietly with Charlie, Li Tei Ming, and Eddie Wu, and then asked me to step forward.
    “What kind of legs do you have?”
    The question took me aback. I glanced at Ruby and Grace, who gave me encouraging nods. I lifted my wool skirt to just above my knees.
    “Higher, please.”
    I edged