Meg's Birthday
Feb 28, 2009 17:50:21 GMT -5
Post by Meg Giry on Feb 28, 2009 17:50:21 GMT -5
The ballet dormitory for the older girls (a very loosely defined term that ranged from around thirteen to twenty or so) was always crowded, noisy and often untidy, but tonight it looked as though someone had taken all the usual knobs of ballet rat behavior and turned them up to eleven.
First of all, the floor was covered in bits of confetti that, if one looked closely, were actually just torn-up programs from the auditorium. Most of the girls were wearing just their practice uniforms (though some of them were in nightgowns, or even chemises and drawers). Someone had managed to smuggle up a few bottles of rum, and from the number of crumbs, it looked as though one of the girls had found a whole case of pastries.
Meg's bed wasn't the most chaotic part of the room, but it was serving as the epicenter for everything around it. Meg herself was sitting with her legs crossed, peeling cheap brown paper off of a present from one of the younger girls.
"It's not much-"
"Oh, don't be silly," Meg said. "None of you should have wasted your money on me anyway. You know how much they pay us-"
"They hardly pay us at all," an older girl cackled, steadying herself against the foot of the bed and taking a deep swig from a rum bottle.
Meg finished unwrapping the package and beamed.
"A diary? Thank you, Georgette!"
The little dancer known as Georgette looked at her feet, flattered that the lead dancer had noticed her.
"I wanted to find one with good, smooth paper, not that pulpy stuff-"
"Georgette, it's lovely," Meg told her, and she rose up on the bed enough to lean over and hug the other girl.
"Thank you, all of you," she said gratefully as they parted from the hug. "You really didn't have to-"
"But you're sixteen now, ain't you?" the tipsy older girl interrupted. "That don't happen every day, y'know. Now you're a woman."
This was met with a large chorus of "oooooh" from the others. Meg looked down, a little embarrassed.
"Next thing we know you'll be leavin' us and going off to God-knows-where," said a brunette next to Meg. "Being a lady."
Meg frowned at her in mock disapproval.
"A lady? Heavens, no!"
All the girls started laughing at this, Meg included. She stood up and started pulling off her white dancing uniform and slipping on a long dress over it.
"See?" one of them shouted. "It begins!"
"Oh, hush," said Meg. "If you must know, I'm expecting someone."
"Is it Mr. Dreary from the ball, Meg?" someone teased.
There was more laughter from the girls.
"His name is Tybalt," Meg said firmly. "And I like him very much."
"Someone fancies him!" a redhead giggled.
"And so what if I do?" Meg challenged her. "As you said, I'm a lady now. Isn't a lady allowed to have..."
"Gentleman callers?"
"Yes, that's the phrase. Gentleman callers."
She picked up a small hand mirror and adjusted her hair.
"I'm still me, you know. That won't change."
First of all, the floor was covered in bits of confetti that, if one looked closely, were actually just torn-up programs from the auditorium. Most of the girls were wearing just their practice uniforms (though some of them were in nightgowns, or even chemises and drawers). Someone had managed to smuggle up a few bottles of rum, and from the number of crumbs, it looked as though one of the girls had found a whole case of pastries.
Meg's bed wasn't the most chaotic part of the room, but it was serving as the epicenter for everything around it. Meg herself was sitting with her legs crossed, peeling cheap brown paper off of a present from one of the younger girls.
"It's not much-"
"Oh, don't be silly," Meg said. "None of you should have wasted your money on me anyway. You know how much they pay us-"
"They hardly pay us at all," an older girl cackled, steadying herself against the foot of the bed and taking a deep swig from a rum bottle.
Meg finished unwrapping the package and beamed.
"A diary? Thank you, Georgette!"
The little dancer known as Georgette looked at her feet, flattered that the lead dancer had noticed her.
"I wanted to find one with good, smooth paper, not that pulpy stuff-"
"Georgette, it's lovely," Meg told her, and she rose up on the bed enough to lean over and hug the other girl.
"Thank you, all of you," she said gratefully as they parted from the hug. "You really didn't have to-"
"But you're sixteen now, ain't you?" the tipsy older girl interrupted. "That don't happen every day, y'know. Now you're a woman."
This was met with a large chorus of "oooooh" from the others. Meg looked down, a little embarrassed.
"Next thing we know you'll be leavin' us and going off to God-knows-where," said a brunette next to Meg. "Being a lady."
Meg frowned at her in mock disapproval.
"A lady? Heavens, no!"
All the girls started laughing at this, Meg included. She stood up and started pulling off her white dancing uniform and slipping on a long dress over it.
"See?" one of them shouted. "It begins!"
"Oh, hush," said Meg. "If you must know, I'm expecting someone."
"Is it Mr. Dreary from the ball, Meg?" someone teased.
There was more laughter from the girls.
"His name is Tybalt," Meg said firmly. "And I like him very much."
"Someone fancies him!" a redhead giggled.
"And so what if I do?" Meg challenged her. "As you said, I'm a lady now. Isn't a lady allowed to have..."
"Gentleman callers?"
"Yes, that's the phrase. Gentleman callers."
She picked up a small hand mirror and adjusted her hair.
"I'm still me, you know. That won't change."