"Yesterday when we were doing our Reels, I thought I was never going to come down. I've never jumped that high in my life -- almost a metre off the ground I was, and I just kept going. Never held on for that long, either: it felt like I was flying, I was sure it would last ... but soon I landed.

"That's all I've got to say about dancing. I must run, now. Haven't got time to finish this letter unless I don't post it until tomorrow, and I dare say Mum would worry if I waited that long, right? Tell her from me not to worry. I'll be back soon, for the holidays, with tonnes more to show her.

"I hope she doesn't mind that I've been away for so long. It's what I want to do, I promise. I love it here. I could never have lived staying at home all this time, it wasn't enough. But this will help me to live the life I want, I'm sure.

"Anyway, just two more weeks of term and then I'll be home.

"Lots of love, Em."

Emma folded the letter, a soft smile on her face, and hunted for a reasonably clean, uncrumpled envelope, easier said than done in their domitory, which at the best of times resembled a tip. Most of the girls preferred to use email but her family were oldfashioned, and there was something nice about receiving letters.

"Are you done yet?" That was Kate, frowning as she attempted to re-tie her dance shoe laces. "You've been an awfully long time." She looked at Emma's face in some alarm. "Is something wrong? You're really pale."

"I'm fine ..." she said. It was a lie.

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Thirteen-year-old Emma started dancing when she was eleven, and she gained a scholarship prize of £687 when she was twelve. At the age of thirteen she was accepted into one of those strange places, a Dance School.

Now she's wondering if it was the right thing to do, though she tells her parents that she couldn't live with it -- and perhaps she couldn't, because dancing is her life. Still, there's something strange about it.

updated Jul 20 '10 by delorfinde