Three grand entrances. Nobody brought the stage.
The third duck practiced the turn outside the doorway.
Inside, two flower-covered ducks were dancing across the pink floor. Their crowns swayed, their orange feet pattered, and neither seemed concerned about where the next step might lead.
She watched one round carefully.
Two steps. Wings up. Turn.
She could do that.
Then the first duck added a little kick.
The third duck decided she could probably do that too.
A Grand Entrance
The stylist found another garland in the storage box and spread it across the table. The third duck chose purple, then pink, then enough blue to make both wings look ready for applause.
“Do you dance?” the stylist asked.
“I’ve been watching.”
The first two ducks waited while the last flowers were clipped into place. Beside the open door, a choreographer from the studio next door had stopped to see what was making such a cheerful noise.
The third duck checked her reflection. Her crown was enormous. Her wings looked magnificent.
She stepped toward the others.
“I’m ready.”
The Wrong Foot
They began together.
The third duck watched the first duck’s raised wing and lifted her own. A blue feather brushed the second duck’s flowers. She drew it back, tried to copy the kick, and looked down.
Her crown slipped forward. All she could see was pink.
She put her foot down quickly. It landed farther across than she expected, leaving her facing the door while the others faced the mirror.
Nobody fell. The flowers rustled for a moment after everything else had stopped.
“I think I came in again,” she said.
She sat on the floor and folded her decorated wings close. Her bill dipped toward the little orange flower on her chest.
The first duck lowered her raised foot. The second sat down beside her, leaving room for the blue feathers.
A Smaller Step
The choreographer crouched where all three could see her.
“May I try something?”
The third duck nodded without looking up.
The stylist came over and secured the crown a little farther back. A pair of orange feet reappeared beneath it.
The choreographer tapped the floor slowly.
One. Two.
The second duck moved one foot forward while sitting. The first joined her, and the third watched their feet instead of their flowers.
On the next tap, she slid her own foot forward.
It went exactly where she wanted.
“Bravo!” said the first duck.
The third looked up.
“That was hardly anything.”
“Do it again,” said the second. “I missed my turn.”
This time, three feet moved to the same quiet beat.
Three Ready Ducks
When the third duck stood, the others stood with her. The choreographer shifted them into a wider row and tried the slow count again.
A small step. Wings raised only when the feet were settled.
The third duck turned without losing sight of the floor. Her flowers brushed the air instead of her neighbor.
She opened one wing a little farther.
“Bravo!” called the second duck.
The third duck laughed and kept both feet firmly beneath her crown.
The stylist watched them finish: one foot lifted, two wings spread, and three bright faces looking pleased with themselves.
“Three grand entrances,” she said.
The third duck looked around.
“Where’s the stage?”
The stylist turned to the choreographer.
“I thought you were bringing that.”
“I brought the count,” she said. “It goes anywhere.”
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