Page 15 of You Rock My World
I step out into the cloudless warmth, grateful for the contrast to the storm raging in my head as I join the gaggle of parents milling about the studio entrance. Five minutes later, the doors burst open, and a pink hurricane barrels toward me. Penny bolts past the other kids, her ballet bag flailing behind her. I crouch down just in time to catch her as she flings herself into my arms with the force of a tiny cannonball.
“Auntie JoJo,” she squeals, nearly knocking me off balance. Her sweaty hair clings to her forehead, her smile unstoppable.
I hug her tight. “Hey, twinkle toes. How was class?”
“My feet hurt.” Penny slumps against my shoulder. “I’m tired.”
“Yeah, same. It’s been a day.”
She frowns. “It’s always a day. The Earth spins, and the sun comes up every morning. That’s how days work.”
I laugh, grab her bag, and ruffle her hair as we head to the car. Once she’s buckled in, I ask, “Alright, little astronomer, what do you want for dinner?”
“French fries and a milkshake.”
“A true ballerina’s menu.” I raise a brow. “Wouldn’t you prefer something mysterious, like julienne carrots?”
Penny winces. “Nope. I want ketchup.”
I kiss her forehead and slide into the driver’s seat.
“Fine, but we need to include something green or your mom will fire me from auntie duty.”
Penny perks up. “We can buy a bag of M&M’s and I’ll eat all the green ones.”
I can’t argue with that logic.
* * *
I strike a dinner deal with Penny for mac and cheese but with the addition of a handful of peas to hit the green quota. We eat at my sister’s place, a peach stucco complex with sun-bleached, peeling walls, a central courtyard, wrought-iron balconies dressed in potted plants, and an aggressively chlorinated pool. Over dinner, Penny fills me in on the latest ballet drama involving casting wars for the Christmas recital. Penny launches into a tirade about how all the other girls are fighting over who will get to be Clara inThe Nutcracker. “I’m not interested in Clara,” she declares between bites. “She’s boring. I want to be the Mouse King.”
I grin, spearing a handful of macaroni. “The Mouse King is pretty fierce. Do you have the evil laugh for it?”
Penny drops her fork and leans forward, scrunching her face into what she clearly thinks is pure villainy, cackling wildly. I pretend to be terrified, clutching my chest and gasping. “Okay, okay, you were born for the role.”
After dinner, the bedtime routine is a familiar rhythm: bath, brushing tiny teeth, untangling Penny’s hair, and wrangling her into her favorite princess pajamas, complete with a tulle skirt that she insists on twirling in before bed.
Penny climbs into bed, grabbing her favorite bunny plush toy, her eyes already heavy with sleep.
“Alright, sweetheart, what story are we reading tonight?” I ask, smoothing the blanket over her and tucking it around her shoulders. I expect her to grab one of her usual picks—a fairy tale or that book about the dog who loses his sock.
But Penny shakes her head, her curls bouncing against the pillow. “No books. Invent a story, Aunt JoJo, with a dragon.”
I arch an eyebrow, sitting on her bed. “A dragon?”
She giggles, clutching her stuffed bunny. “Yes, you’re good at telling stories.”
“Fine.” I sigh as I relax against the headboard. “Once upon a time, a beautiful princess lived in a castle perched high on a mountain with tall spires that pierced the clouds, surrounded by a forest that whispered secrets in the wind. Her father was the king, and her evil stepmother, the queen. The princess was young and beautiful and also in love.”
“With who?” Penny interrupts, her eyes wide and curious. “A prince?”
“No, she loved the court minstrel. He sang with the most melodious voice, and even if she’d never seen him, she’d fallen for him just from hearing his songs. But that love was forbidden.”
“Why?”
I tap her nose. “Well, the minstrel wasn’t a noble, and he was already married to the candy maker’s daughter.”
“But who did the minstrel love, the princess or the other woman?”
