Sore feet (Dancing through life #1)

“Sharper, ladies!”
I groaned. It was so trypical that even with the 17 ballerinas in the room, all trying as hard as they possibly could to land a quadrouple pirroette while on pointe shoes, that Mrs. Regina would make sure it was perfect.
“No groaning Katrina!”
Of course. Of all the 13 years I’ve been dancing, since I was 2, pirroettes have always been my weak spot. It took me longer than the rest of the girls to finally land all of them, but considering my mom was the owner of the studio, noone gave me a hard time about it. Except Mrs. Regina.
“Come on, Katrina! You have to push yourself!”
I hated pointe.
When the 2 hours of tourte was finally over, I sat in the changing room talking with the other girls, rubing my sore feet.
“Regina really pressured you today, huh?” One of my best dance friends, Skye commented.
“Tell me about it.” I rolled my eyes.

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