I come home one day to find Ethan packing. And not just a backpack of clothes. He’s wrapping the TV from his bedroom in a towel. His bed is gone. All his books and DVDs are boxed up. His room is bare.
‘What’s going on?’ I say. And then, ‘Oh. Right.’
‘Kat, it had to happen sometime. I’ve finished school. I need to – ’
‘Whatever. You don’t have to explain. I’d be out of here too if I was old enough.’ I go into my room and fling my schoolbag on the floor. I lie down on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. Just when I think things are looking up, everything changes again.
Ethan taps on my door. ‘Give me a hand? I’m almost done.’
We carry boxes out and he packs the car, tying his mattress to the roof rack. Finally, I carry his last suitcase to the door.
‘So you’re ditching me for some boy house in Bondi?’ I ask, trying to keep my voice light. ‘Where nobody ever cleans the toilet?’
Ethan looks apologetic. ‘Everything I have comes from him – my job, my car, this house. He’s not going to respect me if I don’t do something on my own. I’m not going to respect myself.’
‘You know, for a moment I thought things were looking up around here. Maybe our family isn’t meant to be adorable.’
‘You and me?’ Ethan says. ‘Always.’
It’s the beginning of the end. I find Tash and Sebastian in the kitchen a few days later. I wave a B paper in their faces. Well, B minus. They are deep in conversation – probably talking about Ethan again – but I am on a high from my spectacular mediocrity.
‘Behold, parentals! B minus. I believe the word is unprecedented.’
‘See how well she’s doing,’ Natasha tells Sebastian.
Something in her tone rings warning bells. They’re talking about me? ‘Technically it’s still the middle of the bell curve,’ I say. ‘What’s up?’
Sebastian drops the bombshell. ‘I’ve been invited to Berlin to do my version of Firebird. With your mother as principal.’
I should have known it couldn’t last. ‘Congrats guys. That’s exactly two months we’ve managed to be a regular, stable family.’
‘Which is why we’re all going to be part of this decision,’ Tash says.
Sebastian makes his appeal. ‘Remember how you loved Berlin when you were ten,’ he tells me.
‘I was eight. I got adult chickenpox.’
‘The schools there have outstanding arts programs,’ he offers.
‘Wonderful. Can they papier-mâché me some replacement friends?’ I can tell Sebastian’s made up his mind. Tash might string it out a little longer but in the end the best I can hope for is to gain some control of the situation. ‘It’s fine. Go. Flit. I’ll stay with Ethan.’
‘Not while you’re in school and only sixteen,’ says Tash.
Sebastian makes it clear: ‘It’s Berlin or boarding.’
Tash takes a breath. ‘Or … I stay here.’
I roll my eyes. Tash is really laying it on thick with the martyr act.
‘I really appreciate this attempt at democracy, but I think the UN might declare it a sham.’
The smell of the Academy hits me as soon as I walk through the front door, a mix of floor polish and dance sweat. It makes me nostalgic for a moment. Yes, briefly I am homesick for sweat smell. Must be Ethan moving out.
I find Sammy and Ben looking super-cute in top hats and waistcoats and tap shoes, rehearsing for Showcase. I stand at the door unnoticed, eavesdropping.
‘It’s steampunk,’ says Ben to a dubious Sammy.
‘You keep saying that word,’ complains Sammy. ‘But it doesn’t make any sense.’
Sammy might be geek-smart, but when it comes to pop culture I’m the savant. I explain: ‘Retro styling mostly influenced by the fashion of the steam age, but with a futuristic twist. Kind of like Sherlock Holmes meets Astro Boy.’
They turn to me. ‘And I think we’ve found our damsel in distress,’ Ben says.
‘Didn’t you hear, Ben?’ I quip. ‘We damsels don’t do distress anymore.’ But I already know I am going to say yes. I pick up a corset. ‘I’m going to try this on, but I’m not promising anything.’
Rehearsing for Showcase is a blast. It’s almost like being a kid again, playing dress-ups, tap-dancing, just letting myself go with the flow without anyone shouting at me to watch my port de bras or criticising my alignment. Ben is great to work with. He’s good – light and playful, a natural. He doesn’t take himself too seriously. Sammy’s tougher on himself and all his extra shifts at the café are taking their toll, but Ben keeps things easy and fun and when Sammy looks like dropping off to sleep, we tap-dance him awake again.
When Sammy goes to work, I track down Tara. I just can’t face going home to my parents’ dodgy parenting manoeuvres. She’s sitting on her bedroom floor, listening to music. I grab an earbud out of her ear and listen.
‘Seriously? Hip-hop?’
‘I need to be more street.’
‘T, you’re country lane. Winding road at best. Street? Never.’
Tara pulls the other earbud out of her ear. ‘Kaylah’s street.’
‘Christian’s Kaylah? You’ve got nothing to worry about there.’
‘I’m not. It’s just, she knows him. She knew his mum. His brother. That stuff counts.’ She pouts. ‘And she thinks I’m a loser.’
‘She’s probably just jealous. She has the history. But you have the present,’ I assure Tara. ‘And the future.’ I push down a twinge of pain as I say it. As hard as I try, I can’t stem the tide of feelings I have for Christian. Not that I would ever do anything about it. I would never hurt Tara like that.
I go home the next morning to shower and change before Showcase. Tash is packing.
‘Where were you last night?’ Motherbot asks. ‘And what have I told you about keeping your phone on?’
‘You’d be completely justified asking that if you weren’t packing for overseas. Slightly undermines the whole nurturing mother thing.’
Tash sniffs. ‘These aren’t going overseas. I’m putting them in storage. I’ve decided to retire before the offers start drying up.’
And the Oscar goes to … I think. ‘There’ll be others, Mum,’ I say.
‘At my age, once you turn something down people start smelling blood. And, besides, it’s time.’
I can’t believe she’s serious about this. ‘You need four encores and a bouquet before you leave the stage. Natasha Willis doesn’t retire.’
‘It happens to every dancer. I’ve been lucky to hold it off for so long.’ She starts folding again. ‘Stop trying to change my mind.’
‘I wasn’t,’ I say, quickly.
‘Good, because I have a new role I’ve committed to. I’m staying here with you.’
The atmosphere backstage at Showcase is electric. I’ve missed this, the smell of oil-based foundation make-up, the flurry of costumes. That sense of belonging, the nervous energy that pulses through all the performers. The way time stretches before you go on, and then speeds up while you’re dancing and it’s over before you know it. The way your body listens and responds to the music, the way everything comes together, the giddy joy of knowing your choreography inside out, of dancing in time, of telling a story to a crowd that leans in and drinks it up.
The applause. I admit it. I’ve missed the applause. A room full of thunder, all for you.
Tash is waiting for me backstage. Why can’t she watch from the audience like normal mothers? But I’m on a high and for once I don’t care.
‘Darling, you were wonderful!’ This time I know she’s not being patronising. Her praise is effusive, genuine.
‘It was a bit wonderful, wasn’t it? I’d forgotten what that was like.’ Suddenly it hits me. This is what she’s giving up. For me. ‘You have to go to Berlin.’
‘We’ve been through this.’
‘No. Performing is who you are, Mum. You’d miss it too much.’
Mum looks at me, wide-eyed, hopeful but uncertain. ‘What about you?’
‘Boarding school’s not that bad. And so what if we’re not a normal family? I don’t want you to give up what you love the most just for me.’
‘Dancing has never been the thing I love the most Katrina,’ Tash tells me. I believe her – she was this close to throwing it all away, just to make me happy. ‘Maybe you could stay with Ethan,’ Tash muses aloud.
‘Seriously?’
‘If you keep up this fabulous display of maturity.’
I feel a tap on my arm. A coiffed woman holds out a card towards me. ‘Sorry to interrupt, I like what you did out there. I’m always looking for versatile commercial dancers. Why don’t you give me a call?’
‘I’m not really a dancer,’ I tell her.
‘Can I disagree with you there?’
Tash butts in. ‘You may.’
I shepherd Tash away, but at the last minute I reach back and grab the card.