I open the stage door and step out of the biting wind into the theatre lobby. Little kids sit around waiting to go up to the dressing rooms and excited to be out of school for the day. I flash my bright red student pass to the security card and he waves me through. I take the elevator up to the stage level and step off into people “walking quickly”, we’re not allowed to run, grabbing tulle costumes and sparkling head pieces then darting back to their dressing rooms.

I grab my light pink and green flower costume from the rack and take it up to the 6th floor for to my dressing room. I walk through the red hall, turn the corner and push the heavy, grey dressing room door open. Yelling and laughter fill the room as I walk past the first section of mirrors to the student flowers section.

Meghan is decorating our mirrors with “merde” and other good lucks and compliments. Dry erase marker in hand she runs over and squeezes me tight. I hang my costume on the rack on throw my heavy bag down in front of the second to last mirror and laugh at the snow flakes and Christmas trees drawn all over. Elena looks over and says “You better get going” referring to my makeup, or lack the of. I pull out my trunk and get to work.

I cake on liquid and powder foundation and do my blush and contouring. Now the eyes, black and whites to make the eyes look more open from a distance, false lashes so they can be seen from off stage and a layer of liner to elongate them. I try my bottom liner and redo it about 50 times before Elena grabs my face a does it in two quick wipes. “I don’t see how that was so hard.” Laugh and put on my lipstick. Now it’s hair time. I pull back my hair with a comb and spray it with about half the bottle of hair spray, let it sit, and do the pony again so it’s as slick and tight as possible before doing my bun and putting in my light pink, practically falling apart flower.
We hear Mirlitons, Gingers, and Trepaks sprinting down the hall coming back from snow choir which means it’s time for costumes. I step into my costume and Meghan laces it till I can’t breathe and do one last check before going over to help lace the Mirlitons. “Dancers to stage for intro” is blared over the mic and we all sprint to the elevator and ride down, all 21 of us in the small space, trying not to smash the tutus or get make up on each other.

We explode out and go around the corner to stage right to watch the Sugar Plum Fairy do her solo. We laugh and whisper as our stage manager shoots us dirty looks so we’ll be quiet. And we do for a little, the younger ones are much more obedient, but us older ones talk about “Plum’s” turns and balances and debate whether she’s on her leg this morning or not. She finishes and leads the angles off stage. We all rush into our intro places just in time for her to spin around to call us on.