I’ve travelled all my life, from one country to another. I’ve lost track of time zones, mixed up my Bonjours with my Kalasperas. I’ve looked out of hotel windows at city lights and not known what city, what country I’m in. My passport is stamped with places I don’t recall being in.
Maybe I sound spoilt and ungrateful, but on all those trips I longed for home. For vegemite sandwiches and gum trees, barbecued sausages and Christmas in summer, for Moreton Bay fig trees and fruit bats and possums in the park.
It’s not like I was a tourist. I was little more than luggage, dragged around by Tash and Sebastian. Once in Singapore, Tash went straight from the theatre to the airport and flew out, forgetting I was waiting for her in the hotel. It was only discovered because the babysitter wanted to go home.
But it’s different this time. I am choosing Paris, and Paris is choosing me. In Paris I can be anyone I want, maybe I’ll even choose a stage name and leave the Karamakov name behind. No one has to know about my famous parents, or that I failed the National Academy of Dance, or that I might be flunking out of Normal School. No one has to know that I am a kisser of my best friend’s ex-boyfriend. In Paris I can start again. I can be the real me.
Even better, I can be the Paris version of the real me. Who I imagine is a bit like the real Sydney me, but much better dressed.
‘It’s hard enough not having you at the Academy,’ Tara says, hugging me. ‘I am incapable of an ocean of distance.’
‘Fear not, little one,’ I tell her. ‘You still have two weeks to adore me.’
Ben and Christian offer to accompany me to my first rehearsals (out of the goodness of their hearts, I’m sure). I am relieved to have Ben around, the intensity of my feelings for Christian have only heightened since our illicit kiss. I spend way too much time imagining farewell scenes (I’ve been hanging out with Tara the hopeless romantic too long), or reunion scenes in Paris, walking along the Seine, the Eiffel tower looming in the background. Argh. PAUSE. STOP. DELETE.
‘You can’t stay,’ I warn them.
Ben pouts. ‘First you reject me and now you’re leaving me. You owe me girls in feathers, Karamakov.’
We walk into the busy backstage area. ‘Thank you, boys, but this is as far as you go. I’m not bringing an entourage to my first day of rehearsal.’
‘Why are you rehearsing here anyway?’ Christian asks, a little sulkily.
April overhears and answers Christian’s question.
‘Because half our dancers are Australian. We rehearse them here and then ship them over.’ She looks at Ben and Christian, questioningly. ‘And you are?’
Christian goes to shake April’s hand but I pat it away.
‘Sorry, April. Academy students. Begged for a field trip.’
‘We’ll be like ninjas,’ Ben promises me. ‘Quiet and you won’t see us.’
April says nothing, and I take her silence to be consent. She rifles through a rack of costumes. She pulls out a ruffled skirt and hands it to me. ‘Pour vous. See you out there.’
I squeak and show the skirt to Christian and Ben. ‘This is mine. See, that’s my name.’
‘I thought the skirts would be shorter,’ Ben says, disappointed.
April introduces me to Jade. ‘She’s a Moulin veteran. Watch closely but ignore everything she says.’
I sit down beside Jade who is lying on her side, languidly stretching her legs above her head.
‘Hi,’ I say, thinking this might be like Lexie and the plastics all over again. But Jade smiles, surprisingly friendly.
‘Welcome to the family,’ she says.
We’re walked through the routines. When the music starts, I dance, trying to follow Jade, but I’m struggling to keep up. April watches from the audience and the boys sit a few rows behind, scoffing chips. I don’t have to try and forget that they’re there – the rehearsal is the audition on steroids. We don’t stop moving for a second, kicking and spinning and cartwheeling our way around the stage.
‘And cartwheel,’ April calls. ‘Cartwheel.’ Everything she shouts seems to be for my benefit.
‘Kat, we need you to get there on three. On three.’
I race across the stage, at frantic speed.
Ben whistles. ‘Thunder Kats are go!’ he calls.
‘I thought you were going to be ninjas,’ April snaps, then turns back to me. ‘And that was on five again.’
‘Sorry, April. I’ll get faster.’
I push myself as hard as I can. I hold Jade around the waist. We hop around with our legs extended high in second position. Jade whispers the counts to me. We weave around each other, and I end up in the right spot, but I’m taken by surprise as everyone goes down on the floor in the splits. I slide slowly down. ‘Sorry,’ I call again. April nods, but her face looks tight and worried. I know that look. I’ve seen that look on dance teachers’ faces all over the world. But usually I only get that look when I’m deliberately goofing off. This time I’m trying my hardest to keep up. A seed of doubt germinates. What if my best isn’t good enough?
Post-rehearsal, Jade and I straggle out behind the other dancers. I’m wincing, hobbling like an old lady.
‘Talia’s got this banker boyfriend so her place is unbelievable. We’re all going to share a taxi over.’
I smile. I can’t believe how nice she’s being. It’s weird considering it’s all about chicks showing their underwear, but the Moulin Rouge has this cool feminist edge to it, a sort of supportive sisterhood air.
‘Kat. How do you think you went today?’
‘I’m terrible at these questions … It was feeling slightly better by the end?’
‘Tomorrow is massive and you need to have that chorey down so I suggest an early night.’
‘No, absolutely. I think my body would thank me if I went to bed early.’
‘Perfect.’
April moves off and Jade says, ‘Ignore her, she says that after every rehearsal.’ She takes my arm and draws me along with her. ‘Seriously, Paris is a party town and physical fitness comes second to social stamina. We’ll get your muscles straight into a jacuzzi.’
Jade is pretty convincing. A jacuzzi sounds more relaxing than going home to cheese on toast in Bondi. I’d rather fall into a taxi than hobble to the bus station. And I am going to Paris with these girls. I’m going to need to be able to keep up with them, in more ways than one.
I’m surprised to see Christian waiting for me. I peel away from Jade momentarily. ‘You’re still here? What happened to the Benster?’
‘Prix freak out. Suddenly couldn’t handle a day without training.’ The Prix is like the Olympics for balletbots and everyone’s gone mental preparing for it. Except Christian apparently. He looks nervous, almost shy, as he asks, ‘What are you doing now?’
Relieved to have an excuse not to be alone with him, I gesture to Jade. ‘Girls’ bonding session.’
‘Right. Well, thanks for letting me hang out today.’
‘Quality time,’ I say flippantly.
Christian touches my arm and I flinch.
‘We’re good now, aren’t we?’ Christian asks, concerned.
‘Mm-hm,’ I lie. ‘Tight.’ I lock my fingers together. ‘Like glue.’
I hurry off to join Jade, unable to linger under his gaze any longer.