The Ringer sighed as she watched the calamity unfold around her, parents were screaming on their cellphones as the dancers frantically poured water over their burning eyes. "Help I'm out of water", the toy soldier wailed. "I'm going to go blind and have to walk around like Helen Keller for the rest of my life", cried another female dancer in response. "I don't wanna be in a made-for-TV movie," the girl blubbered.
The Ringer rolled her eyes, stepping over the prone bodies of the dancers to grab her bag, wedged under a fallen prop. She tugged it loose and narrowly missed hitting someone's parent in the head. A man barreled past her, almost knocking her over as he dashed after his son who had wandered off blindly outside. The Ringer turned back to survey the scene, well at least I fulfilled my role, she thought smirking. After all, the show must go on.
When The Ringer was four years old, her parents had taken her to a Christmas party celebrating the start of a successful local production of The Nutcracker. The Ringer, unlike all other children her age had not starting speaking yet. Her parents had taken her to various specialists, but they all found nothing physically wrong with her and declared it was a mental block preventing her from speaking.
So naturally, her parents hired her a special instructor and promptly ignored her to focus on their burgeoning careers as the heads of a small ballet studio in San Francisco. That night, as her parents vanished into the kitchen to bring out the Soufflé, The ringer climbed up onto the dining room table and executed a perfect pirouette. Her parents were horrified, as their darling angel continued on to perform various other moves, she had learned from watching quietly in her parent's studio.
As the bewildered guests stared on, The Ringer finally ended her performance with a grand finale: A Jeté aimed directly at the Christmas ham. As the upturned remains of the ham lay slumped on the floor, one lone member of the audience clapped. The ringer's aunt, Madame Sophie widely regarded as one of the most influential members of the ballet world. She had trained greats such as, Leanne Benjamin and Valentina Kozlova.
Madame Sophie declared The Ringer's impromptu performance, as one of the greatest shows she had ever witnessed and offered to teach The Ringer professional ballet. Madame Sophie, a tall eccentric woman still vibrantly youthful for a 75-year-old woman, jumped to her feet and clapped uproariously. "My dear, she said smiling widely. "You were born to play the role of Clara".
Her parents still dumbfounded, immediately agreed to Sophie's proposition as The Ringer, still standing in the remains of the Christmas dinner folded into a graceful bow. In the years that followed, The Ringer dedicated herself completely to the art of dance. She was home-schooled and practiced day and night, until her feet screamed for mercy, vowing to become a dancer as great as her teacher, Madame Sophie. Madame Sophie took the young Ringer under her wing, training her intensely and had her compete in nationwide dancing competitions. In these competitions, The Ringer became known as a fierce competitor with a notorious reputation for breaking the spirits of her fellow dancers.
The Ringer waded through the hectic scene, and headed for the door, dodging a cluster of miserable parents, locked in a fruitless attempt to tell their children apart. While standing in the doorway of the studio, The Ringer swept into another graceful bow. How melodramatic, she thought as a sly grin slid across her face. It was just a little mace. The Ringer shrugged and left the studio, her bag swinging jauntily in her hand as the shrill sound of sirens filled the air.