Ballet was his least favourite thing in the world, but his sister was mad about it. Those silly, frilly skirt things and funny little shoes - she loved all that - twirled about all over the place in them. George kicked his dangling feet together harder and harder. The ballet teacher turned and glared at him. His sister turned and glared at him. He wanted to glare back but knew he’d be in more trouble if he did. He squeezed his knees and feet together to stop it happening again. The girls stomped around the echoing scout hall. He held on to his legs. Now the girls were supposed to be fairies, but they still stomped. His legs were twitching. They didn’t want to stay still. He had ants in his pants.
‘George! Do you need to go to the bathroom?’
The girls in silly, frilly skirt things all looked at him. He looked at the teacher and shook his head.
They went back to their stomping. He could feel the ants crawling up his shorts. He squirmed in his seat. His legs jiggled. They didn’t want to stay still. Why did his Mum dump him here every week? The elephants ran round the room again, one after another, arms flapping. Flying elephants. Like Dumbo. George wanted to fly too. He wanted to fly away from the ants in his pants and the jiggling in his legs. The girls in silly, frilly skirt things stomped round again and he jumped off his chair and he flapped his wings and he flew.
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