4 Time to dance

The youth club looks amazing. It’s been transformed. Music pumps through the speakers. A disco ball spins above the dance floor, throwing beautiful patterns of light over the roller skaters.

It’s time to hit the dance floor. Hidden behind my mask, I weave around the other dancers, swooping left and right. The music vibrates through my body. It’s wonderful.

As the song comes to an end, a young woman takes centre stage and says: “Hi! I’m Queenie and we’re The Royal Rollers. We’re going to perform for you, and then the competition will start. The best skater wins this trophy!”

They are incredible. They elegantly whizz around the floor, performing spins and jumps in perfect time to the music. The routine ends with an impressive flip from Queenie. The crowd cheers as she lands back on the ground.

I watch from the side as my friends and stepsisters perform their dances. They make it look so easy. I can’t compete against them. What if I embarrass myself?

But then someone pushes me forwards and, before I know what’s happening, I’m on the dance floor and the music is starting.

I block out the faces surrounding me and concentrate on the music. I look down at Mum’s skates and the memory of dancing with her around the park comes flooding back with a rush of warmth.

I start to dance. I loop and turn around the floor. I zoom backwards. I spin around on one leg. I’ve never felt so alive. There’s time for one last move before the song ends. I throw myself into a pirouette, spinning faster and faster with my arms up high.

As the music fades, the audience erupts into applause.

Over the clapping and cheering, Queenie calls: “Please can our masked dancer come up to receive the winning trophy?”

Just then, my watch vibrates. It’s seven o’clock –I have to go! I pull off my roller skates and race to the exit.