French Essay

I have never been so excited for a dance recital before in my life. Miss Ginger is allowing us to choose our costumes for the performance. Mercedes and I are heading to the mall to pick out a costume.

“Do you think C’est La Danse has anything cute?”

“Duh. There’s always something there.”

We headed to the mall and went straight to C’est La Danse first. Madame Jolie, the owner of the store, was a dancer in Paris. It was like heaven to us. We could always find our favorite Capezio tights and Sansha Shoes, plus dance bags, warm-ups, even sparkle studded earrings and key chains that looked like ballet slippers.

“Hey Mercedes”

“Yeah?”

“Why has that man been watching us?” I asked nervously.

Mercedes, Madame Jolie, and I all looked outside the door and to a man standing in a black coat holding a briefcase. He had dark hair that was slowly turning grey. We all were very confused on why he was just standing there.

“Maybe he’s waiting for someone,” Mercedes shrugged and continued to browse through the sparkly racks.

“Hopefully. He’s freaking me out.”

Madame Jolie gasped. I was confused at what she was shocked about. Her jaw dropped as she pulled out the most beautiful dress I have ever seen. It glistened in the light and angels began to sing as my eyes widened. This is it. This is the costume I am going to wear in the dance recital.