I make my way to the studio, nerves tingling in my stomach. It's my first ballet class of the semester, and the familiar anticipation is mixed with a quiet excitement. The hallway leading to the studio is empty and quiet, which helps me focus and take a few deep breaths before stepping inside.

The studio feels almost sacred, with its polished floors, mirrored walls, and the soft, subtle scent of chalk and rosin. I glance at myself in the mirror as I adjust my posture, trying to calm the tiny flutter of anxiety that comes with every new beginning.

Today, I'm dressed in a soft black leotard, a classic piece that hugs my frame comfortably, with a thin wrap skirt around my waist for a touch of movement. My pink tights are neatly tucked into my ballet slippers, which already bear the creases and tiny scuffs from hours of practice. The uniformity of it all—the leotard, the skirt, the tights—grounds me, as if I'm stepping into a role where I know exactly what's expected.

As I walk over to my usual spot near the back, I see a few familiar faces—friends I've been dancing with since my first year here. Camille waves, a bright smile lighting up her face. "Amber! Finally, we're back at it."

I smile, feeling a bit of my nerves ease. "I know. It feels good, doesn't it?"

Next to her, Ana chimes in, "Summer felt so long without this place. I missed it... and missed you guys!"

We all laugh, sharing that silent understanding. Dancing together has built this unspoken bond between us. There's comfort in knowing we're all here, back in the same space, moving through the same routines. The familiar faces, the laughter, the small comments exchanged between stretches—these moments make the studio feel like home.

The class starts, and we move in sync, each of us finding our rhythm again. It's as if no time has passed, and we're all exactly where we left off. I can feel the small, shared smiles whenever we catch each other's eye in the mirror, a silent "we've got this" that passes between us.

—--

After a full day of classes, I find myself back in the studio, but this time, I'm not a student—I'm the teacher. The studio is beautiful, with high arched windows that let in soft natural light, casting long, warm shadows across the polished wooden floors. The walls are lined with mirrors that reflect the kids' eager faces back at them, making the space feel even more open. There's a comforting stillness in the room, broken only by the quiet shuffle of ballet slippers and the faint creak of the old wooden barre along the wall. It's the kind of space that's both elegant and simple, and I feel grounded here, even as my heart races a little with nerves.

I look around at the dozen pairs of curious eyes staring back at me. The kids are between nine and twelve, fidgeting in their ballet slippers, some whispering excitedly, others glancing around with barely contained anticipation.

"Hi, everyone," I say, giving them a small smile. "I'm Miss Amber, and I'll be your teacher this semester. I've been dancing since I was about your age, and I can't wait to share ballet with all of you. I know we're going to have a lot of fun together."

There are a few nods, and some of the kids grin back, clearly excited. I notice a girl with bright red hair giving me an approving look, Jessie, and a boy with a gap-toothed, Oliver grin already looking a bit restless.

"Alright, everyone," I say, trying to sound confident. "Let's start by gathering in a circle."

The kids shuffle over, a little loose in their circle but clearly excited. I can already spot a few personalities— Jessie seems to be the group's unofficial spokesperson, Oliver, who can barely sit still, and, sitting quietly off to the side, a petite girl with dark hair and large, watchful eyes. Something about her shy demeanor catches my attention, her quietness almost a mirror to my own. She's perched on her knees, hands resting in her lap, listening intently. Our eyes meet for a brief moment, and she quickly looks down, a small, shy smile playing at her lips.

"Okay," I say, trying to find my footing, "we're going to start with some simple stretches. Just follow along, and remember, this is all about having fun while we learn."

As we go through a series of gentle stretches and a few basic steps, I start to feel my nerves melt away. The kids are all at different levels, but their enthusiasm makes up for it. Oliver, keeps trying to add dramatic spins whenever I'm not looking, while Jessie, narrates every move with such dramatic flair that it's hard not to laugh. Lily, the shy girl, follows along quietly, her eyes darting to me now and then as if seeking reassurance. I give her a little smile each time, hoping it encourages her to keep going.

After about an hour of practice, I call them back to a circle, feeling a small rush of relief that the class went smoother than I expected.

"You all did such a great job today," I say, and they beam up at me, clearly proud of themselves. "Before we finish up, I have some exciting news to share."

Their faces light up, and they lean in, eager to hear.

"At the end of the semester, you'll all be part of a performance of The Nutcracker. You'll get to be on stage, in costumes, dancing in front of an audience."

The room fills with gasps and excited whispers, their eyes wide with excitement. Lily glances up, her expression a mix of surprise and wonder. I give her a little smile, and she returns it shyly.

Oliver, always ready with a question, raises his hand. "Are you going to be in The Nutcracker too, Miss Amber?"

I nod, feeling a little shy about the attention. "Yes, I'll be performing too, but you'll all have special roles of your own. It's going to be a magical performance, and each of you will get to be a part of it."

Emily, a girl with a mischievous grin, raises her hand. "Can I be the Sugar Plum Fairy?"

I chuckle. "We'll talk about roles as we get closer, but everyone will have a unique part to play."

The room fills with even more chatter, the kids' excitement almost overwhelming. Just as they start gathering their things, Oliver raises his hand again, looking at me with a mischievous grin.

"Miss Amber," he says, dragging out my name like he's setting up a big reveal, "do you have a boyfriend?"

I feel my face heat up instantly. I was not expecting that question. I glance around, hoping to deflect, but every single kid is now staring at me, wide-eyed and curious.

"Uh..." I stammer, trying to keep my cool. "No, I don't... I'm, um, a little busy with dance and school right now."

The kids exchange looks, some of them giggling. Jessie leans over to Oliver and whispers loudly, "See? I told you she doesn't have time."

I laugh awkwardly, feeling my cheeks still warm. "Alright, that's enough questions about Miss Amber's personal life," I say, trying to sound playful but firm.

The kids continue to gather their things, still chattering about the performance, and as they file out, Lily lingers by the door. She gives me a small, shy smile and a wave before slipping out with the others.

Watching her go, I feel a gentle warmth spread through me. I didn't expect teaching to be so rewarding, but seeing their excitement makes me look forward to what's ahead.

I exhale a long breath, feeling the post-class adrenaline settle into a satisfying calm. Teaching ballet to a room full of energetic nine- to twelve-year-olds for the first time was both exhilarating and a little nerve-wracking, but as I pack up, I can't help but smile. Lily, the usually shy girl, actually smiled back at me today—my heart did a tiny leap when I saw it.

Just as I'm gathering my things, Mrs. Lawson, the studio director, steps into the room. She walks with a graceful air, her heels clicking softly against the floor. The room seems even more spacious with her presence, her professional but warm demeanor adding an air of reassurance to the studio.

"Amber," she calls out, her voice carrying gently but firmly. "Do you have a moment?"

I straighten up, feeling a small flutter of nerves. "Yes, of course, Mrs. Lawson," I say, hoping I sound professional.

She glances around the now-empty studio, taking in the light streaming through the windows and the remnants of excitement lingering in the air. "I just wanted to check in and see how your first class went. The kids looked happy, but I wanted to hear from you directly."

I can't help but smile, the small successes of the class fresh in my mind. "Honestly, it went really well," I admit, feeling a bit more confident than I expected. "They were a little restless at first, but once we started on some of the basics, they really focused. And Lily—" I pause, feeling a spark of pride, "she actually smiled and participated, which is huge for her."

Mrs. Lawson's eyes light up. "That's wonderful. Lily's usually so reserved, so that's quite an accomplishment, Amber. It sounds like you really connected with them."

I feel my cheeks warm slightly, but it's the good kind of flustered. "Thanks. I was so worried about keeping their attention, but they were great. I really enjoyed it."

Mrs. Lawson nods approvingly, her reflection in the mirrored walls adding an air of authority. "You did an excellent job for your first time teaching. It's not easy commanding a room full of young dancers, but you have a way with them. Keep that confidence."

I let out a breath, laughing a little at myself. "Thank you, Mrs. Lawson. I was just hoping I wouldn't trip over my own feet."

She chuckles softly, and the sound echoes lightly off the walls. "And I'm glad you didn't. One more thing—have you thought about your involvement in the end-of-semester Nutcracker show? The kids will be performing, and I think having you up there with them would make it extra special."

My heart skips a beat at the thought of performing again. The idea of being onstage, under the soft glow of stage lights with the rich, velvety curtains framing the scene, fills me with both excitement and nerves. "I'd love to be part of it," I say, smiling. "It'll be a challenge balancing everything, but I wouldn't miss it."

She smiles warmly, clearly pleased. "Excellent. It's going to be a wonderful show, and I think the kids will really look up to you in that role. And if you need any support as you prepare, don't hesitate to reach out."

I nod, feeling a wave of gratitude. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

As Mrs. Lawson leaves, her footsteps fading down the hall, I take one last look around the studio. The light is starting to dim, casting long, shadowy reflections across the floor. Despite all the stress of classes, this feels like a reminder of why I love dance and what it brings to others. Today, I might've just made a difference—and that's worth every ounce of first-day jitters.

On the way home, I decide to treat myself and head to my favorite coffee shop. It's a cozy little spot tucked into the corner of Main Street, nestled between a boutique clothing store and an old-fashioned bookstore. The shop's exterior is decorated with hanging flower baskets, and a chalkboard sign out front usually has a pun about coffee scribbled in bright colors. Today's reads, Espresso yourself*

When I step inside, the warmth of the shop envelops me. The smell of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries fills the air, mingling with the faint aroma of cinnamon from the seasonal treats. The wooden floors creak underfoot, and the exposed brick walls are adorned with local artwork and shelves of books that customers can borrow. Fairy lights strung across the ceiling cast a soft glow, giving the whole place a welcoming, almost magical vibe.

"Amber!" Sam, one of my friend, calls from behind the counter. He's wearing his usual apron, which has coffee stains that somehow manage to look like an artistic pattern. The espresso machine hums behind him, and the glass pastry case glistens with fresh croissants, muffins, and cookies.

What can I get you?"

"Hot chocolate, please," I say, leaning my elbows on the counter. "I've earned it."

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. "Rough day?"

I let out a sigh, but it's paired with a small smile. "Let's just say teaching ballet to a room full of kids for the first time is an adventure."

Sam whistles, handing a cup over to another customer before turning back to me. "Sounds like you deserve more than a hot chocolate. Maybe a medal or a spa day."

"I'll settle for the hot chocolate," I say, smiling as he starts making it. While he works, I take in the cozy atmosphere. A couple of regulars are sitting by the window, sipping lattes and laughing over a game of chess. The soft strumming of an acoustic guitar plays over the speakers, blending into the background noise of quiet conversations and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine.

Sam hands me my drink, and I wrap my hands around the warm cup, savoring the heat. "Thanks," I say, and I can't help but let out a content sigh as I take my first sip. It's the perfect blend of rich chocolate and creamy warmth.

"Anytime," Sam says, giving me a mock salute. "See you this weekend?"

I nod. "Yep, bright and early."

As I head back out, the hot chocolate warming me from the inside, I notice the string lights outside starting to flicker on, illuminating the cobblestone sidewalk in front of Bean & Brew. The comforting atmosphere of the coffee shop lingers with me as I make my way home, feeling just a little more ready to face whatever comes next.

—--

When I finally step into the shared living space of my dorm, I'm greeted by the smell of popcorn and the sight of Isabella sprawled out on the couch. She's got a towel wrapped around her hair and is wearing a pair of neon green pajama pants and a T-shirt that says, "I'd Rather Be Napping." There's a half-eaten bowl of popcorn in front of her and some reality TV show blaring on the screen.

"Hey there, Dancing Queen!" Isabella shouts, pausing the show and grinning at me. "How was your first day of ruling over the tiny ballerinas? Did anyone try to stage a rebellion?"

I drop my dance bag onto the floor and flop down next to her with a groan. "It was wild," I say, sinking into the cushions. "One kid tried to turn every move into a dramatic spin, another was narrating everything like she was in a play, and one girl barely said a word but followed along perfectly. It was... a lot."

Isabella snorts. "Sounds like you had a full-blown circus. You want popcorn or are you going to shower off the sweat of your dance-filled day first?"

I pretend to consider it, then dramatically sniff my arm. "Yeah, definitely shower first. I'm pretty sure I smell like a mix of sweat and childhood chaos."

"Good call," she says, patting me on the back. "I'll be here, providing the world's best reality TV commentary when you're done."

I drag myself to the bathroom, where I take a long, hot shower, letting the warm water wash away the day's exhaustion. My muscles relax under the heat, and I feel myself unwinding, bit by bit. By the time I'm done, I'm feeling more like a human and less like a sweaty, tired dance instructor.

Back in my room, I pull on my favorite pajamas: an oversized, faded T-shirt that says "Nap Queen" and soft plaid pants that are a little too big but perfect for lounging. I towel-dry my hair, then head back out to the living room, where Isabella has already pulled up a second bowl of popcorn.

"Look at you, all fresh and clean," she says, tossing a piece of popcorn in my direction. "So, did you impress the kiddos with your flawless ballet skills, or did they just roast you the whole time?"

I plop down next to her, grabbing a handful of popcorn. "They were actually really sweet. But they did ask if I was going to be in The Nutcracker, and when I said yes, they were so excited. It felt... good, you know?"

Isabella's face softens. "Aw, look at you. Miss Amber, the inspiring dance teacher. You're going to be their favorite person by the end of the semester."

I laugh, rolling my eyes. "I don't know about that, but I'll take it."

We watched a few minutes of the reality show, Isabella's running commentary making me laugh so hard I nearly spit out my popcorn. After a while, my stomach starts rumbling, reminding me that I haven't had a proper meal.

"Alright, popcorn's great and all, but I need actual food," I say, getting up to grab some leftover pasta from the fridge.

As I warm up the pasta in the microwave, I pull out my phone and decide to call my mom. Isabella gives me a thumbs-up and whispers, "Mom Time," before dramatically returning her focus to the TV.

My mom picks up after the first ring, her warm voice instantly making me feel at home. "Allô, ma chérie! Comment ça va?" (Hello, my darling! How are you?)

Hearing French feels like stepping back into the warmth of home. I smile, even as a wave of homesickness washes over me. "Salut, Maman. Ça va bien. C'est fatiguant, mais c'était une bonne journée. J'ai donné mon premier cours de ballet aux enfants aujourd'hui." (Hi, Mom. I'm good. It's tiring, but it was a good day. I taught my first ballet class to the kids today.)

"C'est merveilleux!" she exclaims, the excitement in her voice making me feel more at ease. "Comment ça s'est passé?" (That's wonderful! How did it go?)

I chuckle, taking my pasta out of the microwave and settling back down on the couch. "C'était un peu chaotique, mais ils étaient tellement heureux pour Casse-Noisette. C'était... vraiment chouette, en fait." (It was a bit chaotic, but they were so excited about The Nutcracker. It was... really nice, actually.)

We chatted in French for a while, her voice comforting and familiar. She asks if I'm eating enough, if I'm getting enough sleep, and I assure her that I'm taking care of myself, even though I know she worries. Her gentle reminders feel like a warm hug through the phone, and I feel a little more grounded by the end of our conversation.

After we say goodbye, I set my phone down and dig into my pasta. Isabella's still engrossed in her show, but she turns to me with a smirk. "You and your mom have the cutest conversations, you know that?"

I roll my eyes, but I'm smiling. "Thanks, Izzy."

We finish off the pasta and popcorn, and soon enough, I can't keep my eyes open any longer. I crawl under my favorite throw blanket on the couch, letting the exhaustion from the day finally take over.

Isabella nudges me with her foot. "Goodnight, Miss Amber the Magnificent."

"Bonne nuit, Izzy," I mumble, already half-asleep. The sounds of the TV and Isabella's quiet laughter fade into the background as I drift off, thinking of little ballerinas, warm hugs from home, and the start of something good.

—----------------

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