Beastly's Arc

Chapter 7 of 7

By Thursday afternoon, four more families have appeared at the studio door. Beastly does not stop to consider what brought them or whether they will stay. He teaches each lesson with the same measured precision he used with the first girl, correcting posture with a gesture and repeating sequences until every student finds the rhythm. By the following week, the ledger is full. Names fill every available slot from Tuesday through Saturday, written in Beastly's careful hand. He arrives earlier each morning to prepare the space and stays later to clean the floor between sessions. When a mother asks if he can add another time slot on Wednesday, he tells her to return in two weeks when he will know which students are serious. She pays in advance anyway. A newspaper is left on the studio doorstep one morning, folded open to a story about the dance teacher in the foothills who won back his award and now runs the only studio in town. The article mentions the line of wooden posts and rope outside the entrance where families wait between lessons. Beastly reads it once, then places it face-down on the shelf beside his award. He does not display it in the window. The first girl returns on Thursday with her slippers in hand. She no longer hesitates at the threshold. When Beastly demonstrates a new combination, she watches his feet instead of his ears. Her mother sits against the wall and does not whisper. At the end of the lesson, the girl asks when she can learn to turn like he does. Beastly tells her not for six months, maybe longer. She nods and puts her slippers back in her bag without complaint. He marks her name in the ledger for next week and moves on to the next student waiting outside.