There wasn’t a barre in this studio, which wasn’t unusual, exactly, but it wasn’t something David was used to. He’d been inside a lot of studios over the last fourteen years he’d been dancing, though, and sometimes you had to make do. He dropped his stuff in a corner, amid a dozen other bags and packs, and skimmed out of his sweatshirt too. The sneakers stayed on, a pair of vintage Air Jordans he’d found in the Goodwill by his mom’s house, and that was probably the weirdest of all.

He shook it off, though; it wasn’t like he was the first ballet dancer to ever tackle a new dance style, or even the first one trying out for If You Know You Can Move. David found a spot in the back, near the open windows overlooking the mall’s courtyard, and planted his feet on the floor. He dipped into a series of grand plies, moving from First to Fifth with the kind of mindlessness only derived from repetition. Other students were stretching out too, in various stages of dress; David didn’t look out of place in his black shirt and grey sweats, but he was definitely the only one warming up in the classical style.

It wasn’t like it didn’t work, though, or there would be no point in doing it.