Turning

Turning

In this raw, searingly honest debut young adult novel, a former aspiring ballerina must confront her past in order to move forward from a devastating fall that leaves her without the use of her legs. Genie used to fouetté across the stage. Now the only thing she’s turning are the wheels to her wheelchair. Genie was the star pupil at her exclusive New York dance school, with a bright future and endless possibilities before her. Now that the future she’s spent years building toward has been snatched away, she can’t stand to be reminded of it—even if it means isolating herself from her best friends and her mother. The only wish this Genie has is to be left alone. But then she meets Kyle, who also has a “used to be.” Kyle used to tumble and flip on a gymnastics mat, but a traumatic brain injury has sent him to the same physical therapist that Genie sees. With Kyle’s support, along with her best friend’s insistence that Genie’s time at the barre isn’t over yet, Genie starts to see a new path—one where she doesn’t have to be alone and she finally has the strength to heal from the past. But healing also means confronting. Confronting the booze her mother, a recovering alcoholic, has been hiding under the kitchen sink; the ex-boyfriend who was there the night of the fall and won’t leave her alone; and Genie’s biggest, most terrifying secret: the fact that the accident may not have been so accidental after all. "A nuanced portrayal of disability, dance, and starting over." -- -Kirkus Reviews ― 1/1/2022 "Genie's first-person narrative rings true as she works through her frustration and disappointment, gradually finding a new direction when she's ready to more forward." -- - Booklist ― 3/15/2022 "Smith deftly handles complex topics such as accessibility, race, abortion, domestic violence, and sobriety/recovery through Genie’s perspective and slowly reveals more of Genie’s secrets, including what really happened the night of the ­accident. VERDICT Fans of realistic fiction will find this a compelling and emotional story." -- -School Library Journal ― 5/1/2022 Joy L. Smith is a childcare professional and lives in Queens, New York. A graduate of SUNY New Paltz, she has a bachelor’s degree in human development and differences, with a specialization in communication disorders. She’s been writing since she was a teenager and has been mentored by Ibi Zoboi, Radha Blank, and Emma Straub through the Girls Write Now program. Turning is her debut novel. Chapter One: The Barre CHAPTER ONE The Barre Miss Kuznetsova was right; I don’t know what hard work is. I’m ghost-knuckling the barre, doing the opposite of what I was taught in ballet—clinging for dear life, trying to hold myself up. I want to tilt my head to reroute the highway of sweat working its way down my face, but dare I tempt the balance gods and risk eating the floor? On the other hand, I’m hungry. I’m afraid to move my eyes anywhere but in front of me. I’ve been staring at the corny LET’S GET PHYSICAL poster for ages now. It brings a new definition of spotting. I remember my first-year training under Miss Kuznetsova. I knew I was great, everyone told me I was. Miss Kuznetsova worked that attitude right out of me with my first pirouette. Trash. You call that spotting? I’m surprised you aren’t picking yourself off the floor. Come back to that spot or leave my class. That was her being nice. God, I miss her. “You got this, Genie,” Logan tells me. He sounds so sure, loosening his grip around my waist. “I can’t do this.” My elbows shake in sync with my voice, I swear. Is the ground getting closer? Logan tightens his grip on me, and I fall back into him. “Dammit!” “None of that. Come on. Straighten up. You can do this,” Logan says. He’s so close behind me, it reminds me of partnering class. The way his hands round to the curves of my waist. I close my eyes. I want so bad to be back. I want to be lifted. To feel as if I’m soaring through the sky, then put down, ever so gently. But it’s not pointe shoes skimming the surface, or boys landing out of jumps that I hear. No. It’s the sound of a walker scraping and a metal leg stomping across the room somewhere. “I’m done with this.” My hands start to slide, and I have nothing left in me to straighten myself up. Danny, Logan’s assistant, sits on a rolling stool; he holds my ankles, the only thing keeping me weight bearing. “Okay, hold on.” There’s subtle defeat in his tone. “Bring me her chair,” he orders Danny. I hate this place. I’m mad at myself. Scratch that. Mad doesn’t begin to describe how I feel now that I can’t stand on my own and the only place I want to be is at my summer dance intensive. I had so many new dances I wanted show Kuznetsova. This was the stepping-stone to my last year of being a student. Logan lowers me onto the floor, because everything in this place is a test. I’ll have to work to get into my chair. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” He kneels down and looks at m