The floor in the ballet room was as smooth and shiny as the mirror. When you walked on it, your feet slid as though you were on roller skates.

And up close, Madame Jamot’s silver earrings sparkled like tiny raindrops.

Madame Jamot smiled a kind smile down at Ophelia while she talked to Mama. The other girls were already lined up in their two rows, in their pretty pink leotards and tutus and with their feet pointed in their silky ballet shoes.

Ophelia looked into the wall-sized mirror and for the first time she realised something.

Something shocking and awful! Something that made her want to curl up and cry! She was so big. So much bigger than all the other girls there. Not fat – just big. Gigantic! Like a huge tree in a field of daisies!

Her legs were bigger – like tree trunks. Her shoulders were way wider. She was way taller than the tallest ballet dancer there. Even her hands looked like a giant’s hands compared to the slim, graceful fingers of the other girls.

And she heard what Madame was saying, above the tinkling ballet music.

“I’m dreadfully sorry, Mrs Moeti. But I don’t think Ophelia would fit in. She would feel awkward and out of place. She would be self-conscious about her size. And we don’t want that, do we? Not when she’s only seven. That wouldn’t be fair to her.”

“But she’ll be so disappointed,” said Mama. “Please, isn’t there something she can do?”

“What about karate?” suggested Madame Jamot. “Yes, I’m sure Ophelia would be more comfortable in a karate class. She’ll surely do well there. Mr Pillay has a class down the corridor.”

Karate? Karate!? Ophelia knew about karate. Some of the boys at school were in Mr Pillay’s class. They spent their breaks doing wild kicks and violent punches. She didn’t want to learn to kick and punch. She wanted to twirl to pretty music.

Ophelia ran out of the ballet class, trying not to cry. She ran straight into Mr Pillay, who was unlocking his karate room door.

“Oh wonderful!” said Mr Pillay. “Are you joining my class? It will be great to have a girl here too. Let me fit you up with a karategi. I think I have your size.”

So that’s where Ophelia ended up – somehow – that Saturday morning at the Community Centre: in a room with a huge grey rubbery mat, wearing a loose white tunic over loose white pants. And with a white belt tied round her middle.

“Beginners wear white belts,” said Mr Pillay. “But as you progress, you get to wear other colours: yellow, then orange, maybe even green. And I have a feeling you will progress fast!”

Ophelia spent the morning learning strange, new words. Mr Pillay was the sensei or teacher. She was in a karate dojo or class. The jacket was called an uwagi and the pants were called shitabaki.

“Shit-a-bakkie,” some of the boys whispered to her and laughed, though she didn’t get the joke.

She stood in line along the rubber mat. With her hands at her sides, she had to bow – as a sign of respect to all the men who had created karate. Then bow again as a sign of respect to Mr Pillay and the other students.

But they were all boys – all of them!

And from down the corridor, Ophelia could still hear the tinkling ballet music.

***

Tell us what you think: Will Ophelia do well at karate? Will she begin to enjoy it?