The Seventh Wish by Kate Messner Page A

go, ladies and gentlemen!” Miss Brigid shouts. “Line up and we’ll start with a reel.”
    I find a spot in front of the mirror between Dasha and Chloe. We reel and slip jig through the first half hour of class and then switch shoes for the treble jig and hornpipe.
    â€œPoint your toe on the hop!” Miss Brigid calls over the music. “Straighten that knee!”
    When class ends, Dasha and I change into our sneakers while the Novice kids get ready. We’re staying to watch their class so we can see what it’ll be like when we move up.
    â€œAre you guys in Novice now?” Catherine pulls her wheeled dance bag up beside us, sits down on it, and starts putting on her hard shoes.
    â€œNot yet,” I say. “But hopefully after the Montreal feis.”
    â€œYou’ll make it,” Catherine says. She finishes lacing her shoe, straps the buckle over her ankle, and hurries across the room to stand by Isabelle for the start of class. Then she races back to her dance bag.
    â€œCatherine, we’re ready to begin. Is there a problem?” Miss Brigid asks.
    â€œNo!” Catherine rummages through her bag, pulls her flour baby out from a jumble of shoes and extra clothes, and props it up on a chair. “Sorry! I had to get Meredith. She likes to watch.” Catherine races back to her spot as Miss Brigid shakes her head and starts the music.
    I don’t know these steps yet, but when the music begins, I can’t keep my sneakers still. The Novice class is about the same size as ours, but the dancers are more powerful, more sure of themselves, and that makes them a lot louder.
    Tick-a-tuck! Tick-a-tuck! Tick-a-tuck!
They fly over the floor in unison, arms tight to their sides.
    â€œGood, but I’m not hearing the clicks,” Miss Brigid says when the song ends. “Line up and let’s do a click exercise.”
    I tap my sneaker-heels together while the Novice girls kick their way forward.
    â€œClick-two-three, click-two-three . . . Step! Click-down!” Miss Brigid calls. “Much better!”
    All the heel clicking reminds me of Dorothy’s magic ruby slippers from
The Wizard of Oz
, and that reminds me of my latest wish. “Hey . . . ,” I whisper to Dasha. “When do you have another one of those language tests?”
    She’d been smiling, watching the dancers, but now her face falls. “Tomorrow.” She sighs. “I study all week but . . .” She shrugs as if it’s hopeless. I want to tell her it’s not, that things will be better this time, but she’ll think I’m just being nice. She’ll find out soon enough.
    â€œVery nice, ladies!” Miss Brigid calls when the class is over. “Who’s going to Montreal?” They all raise their hands. “Great! I’ll see you there.”
    Catherine comes back over to change her shoes. “Are you going this weekend?” I ask.
    â€œYep. My sister has a gymnastics meet in Vermont Friday night, so we’re going up from there and staying in a hotel.” She shrugs. “Montreal’s a huge feis, though, so I don’t really have a chance of top three. I’d need a first place to move up to Prizewinner.”
    The kids in the Prizewinner class are coming in now. They’re mostly high school dancers, but there’s one girl who looks like she’s about our age. Her mom is dressed in a fancy business suit with high heels. I turn back to Catherine. “Who’s that?”
    â€œLeah James,” Catherine says. “She’s in eighth grade at our school—just moved here from New York City. She used to go to some magnet school there for performing arts. She’s amazing. I heard she moved up to Prizewinner when she was like eight.”
    I watch Leah stretching with one long, muscular leg propped up on a chair and wonder what it would be like to be that good at something.
    â€œSee you