The Storm Before the Calm Read Online Free PDF Page B

There were all kinds of people in that car. Businessmen in well-tailored suits, a woman wearing scraps of clothing and carrying a bag of garbage, some teenagers sharing iPod headphones, and a man reading a book in what looked to be Chinese. The stations faded into the distance as the train whisked us from stop to stop.
    Some of the stations were old and filthy. They reminded me of the sewer tunnels I’d seen in movies, the walls covered with graffiti and the decorative tiles grimy and uncared for. Others were shiny and sleek in their contemporary design. But my favorites were the ones that looked like they’d been constructed when New York was actually new, and they’d been looked after since then. I loved the mosaics on the walls. They were beautiful.
    “The next stop is ours,” Ginny said, standing up and holding on to the metal bar. I did the same, getting ready to exit the train once it came to a stop. We got off at Fourteenth Street and made our way to street level.
    “We’re only a couple of blocks from your dance company. We can walk over there if you’d like. You can see the building?”
    “If you don’t mind,” I said. I looked around as we walked, taking it all in. I’d never seen so many brick buildings before or such beautiful designs. I had a sudden appreciation for architecture. The buildings back home were nothing like this, most of them made from vinyl siding or stucco. The church on Maple Street was the most interesting of them all, and that was only because of the intricate stained-glass windows on the front. All the other structures seemed dull and like Xeroxed copies of one another. Here each building seemed to have a personality of its own. I wanted to see what was inside each and every one.
    We walked toward the Hudson, and as we went I tried to memorize each step. I’d looked at a map before I left, and while most of the city was set up like a grid with numbered streets, Free Rein was located at the edge of the Meatpacking District, where the streets were named and some ran diagonally.
    We walked down Fourteenth Street to where it intersected with Washington. On the corner was Free Rein. I blinked, trying to make sure I wasn’t imagining things, but there, on the black banner that hung vertically beside the door, the name was spelled out in white lettering. The building itself looked like it had once been a warehouse or a factory of some kind, dark bricks with large arched windows on each of the three floors. On the second floor I could see the barre bisecting the lower part of the windows. My fingers itched to curl around it, my feet automatically feeling like they needed to turn out.
    “It’s beautiful,” I whispered, in awe that I was actually there. The whole experience felt surreal, like I was watching someone else’s life unfold in front of me.
    “It is,” Ginny agreed. “And tomorrow, you’re going to be up there.”
    “I still can’t quite believe it.”
    “Well, believe it, Sprout. You’re going to blow them all away.”
     
     
    T HAT NIGHT , after Ginny had left for work, I phoned my mom. It was difficult to pin down a few minutes that she would have free, especially with the time difference between South Dakota and New York. I dialed and waited patiently as it rang in my ear.
    “Baby?” she asked when she picked up. Her voice was light with excitement.
    Despite how tired I was, it filled me with energy. I hadn’t been gone all that long, but I already missed her fiercely.
    “Hi, Mom,” I said, trying to keep my voice level.
    “How’s New York? Did Ginny show you around? Tell me everything.”
    I smiled against the phone. “New York is great. We did a dry run of getting to the studio this morning so I can find my way there on my own tomorrow. It’s actually pretty easy to use the subway here. I thought it was going to be a lot more complicated.”
    “She’s not going with you on your first day?”
    “She’s gone to work and won’t be back in