I’m back, in a place where I never thought I’d be again. Or want to be. The National Academy of Dance.
All familiar faces, but I feel alone, all the same.
Why is Ben in a tutu, twirling around? ‘Smile, my pretty,’ Grace says, taking a photo of him with her camera phone. ‘This is for Tara.’ Grace deliberately knocks me out of the way as she prances past.
Tara won’t answer my calls. She must be feeling devastated about her back but in my heart I know her silence is about me and Christian. How can we not still be best friends? I can’t bear it.
I have class in a minute, but I have to try her again. This time her mum answers. ‘Hang on, Kat, I’ll put her on.’
Great. My heart thumps. What will I say?
But then her mum says, ‘Sorry, sweetheart. She’s sleeping right now. Can I have her call you back?’
‘Okay, thanks, Mrs Webster. Bye.’
I feel sick as I hang up and look around the studio. Back in first year. Oh boy, look at them. All at the barre, stretching like there’s no tomorrow. And they all ignore me. Guess I’d better join them.
The class is familiar, too. Mixed Classical. Miss Raine watches me like a hawk but says nothing to me, thank goodness. I give it my all. Now that’s unfamiliar!
After class, the first years walk past me like a small army, Lulu at the front.
I plaster on a smile. ‘Hi, Lulu.’ Ignored again. Remi sneers at me.
‘Hello? Look, I’ve been the new kid twice too often this year, so, if there’s a problem, can we just sort it out now?’
Lulu stops. They all stop. That’s good.
‘The problem?’ Lulu says. ‘Is with your kind.’
Remi backs her up. ‘You’re a second year in a first-year leotard. And we don’t like the second years.’
Huh? ‘You don’t think that’s a touch yearist?’ I ask.
Lily speaks up quietly. ‘We wanted to compete in the Prix de Fonteyn.’
Remi jumps in again. ‘We deserved to compete. But the second years suck up all the attention.’
This is seriously weird.
Lulu says, ‘Which is infuriating because with the exception of Abigail –’
They all nod in agreement like sheep, and chorus, ‘We love Abigail.’
‘She’s so dedicated,’ someone pipes up.
‘– you’re more obsessed with relationships than ballet,’ Lulu continues, and sticks her nose in the air.
I blink, stunned. ‘Huh. Right. Carry on then.’
They sweep out of the room, and I shake my head. It’s so ridiculous, I want to laugh. But I can’t, quite.
It’s lunchtime and I grab some food and plonk myself down at a table with Sammy and Christian. I can’t wait to tell them about it. ‘Do you know there’s a whole creepy dictatorship going on that we’re not even aware of?’
Sammy gives us a funny look, and pushes back his chair. ‘I’ve got to get going.’
I turn to Christian. ‘Why does he have that face on?’
‘I don’t have a face,’ Sammy says.
‘It’s his running to the toilet face,’ Christian says.
‘No, it’s not,’ Sammy says, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.
‘Has he been eating green curry again?’ I ask.
Christian laughs.
‘It’s not my curry face,’ Sammy snaps. He glares at us both. ‘It’s …’ He sighs. ‘For weeks you guys have been using me as an excuse so you can hang out guilt-free.’
My mouth gapes open. ‘You don’t think we feel guilty?’ What is the matter with him? Christian and I are not together. Not really.
‘I’m not judging – actually I am judging. If you’re going to get together, fine, be together.’ He holds his hands up in surrender. ‘I just don’t want to be around to see it.’ And he walks off, just like that!
Christian can’t look at me, and neither of us says a word. We can’t be together – neither of us want to hurt Tara – but I can’t help how I feel about him. Where to from here? I have no idea, but that horrible, lonely feeling is getting worse.
When classes finish, I’m glad to see big brother Ethan, even if he is hanging out with Abigail yet again.
Only he seems to have said something that flusters her for a change. Interesting.
I wrap an arm around Ethan. ‘Family, you’re genetically obliged to talk to me.’
Ethan makes a face. ‘Can I do it while writing job applications? Today the Company decided it’s time I “spread my wings”.’
So he’s not having a good day either. ‘Y’ouch. Not to be selfish, but will you be seeking local work?’ Please let me at least have my big brother around!
He shakes his head. ‘Impresión said they’d look at my new showreel.’
‘Spain.’ Even Abigail looks a bit stunned.
‘I know, bad timing.’ He nudges Abigail’s arm and makes like he wants her to follow him, smiles at me and heads off down the corridor. Suddenly, behind me that little first-year army choruses, ‘Hi, Abigail.’ They’re smiling at her like she’s the Queen. That gives me an idea.
I turn to Abigail. ‘Hey, how do you get your hair like that? I mean, I spray and spray but – flyaways.’
I examine her hair and touch the flowers, but Abigail flicks my hand away and stalks off.
No problem – now I have a plan. If you can’t beat them, you have to join them.
As I warm up the next day in the empty studio, I try Tara’s phone – yet again. I get her voicemail – yet again. ‘Hi, it’s Tara. Sorry I missed you. Leave a message.’
I turn off my phone and swing my leg again. I’ve plaited my hair on top of my head with flowers threaded through, and my pointe shoes are shiny, brand new. Sheesh, if I didn’t know better, I’d think I looked just like Abigail!
Lulu and Remi stop in the doorway, surprised I’m there first for a change. I put on my cheeriest voice. ‘Top of the morning to you.’
Lulu stares. ‘Class doesn’t start for an hour.’
‘Endorphin overload,’ I chirp. ‘I’ve been in the Pilates studio since six.’
Lulu and Remi exchange a suspicious look, as Lily comes in, too.
I smile. ‘Did you guys know the American Ballet Theatre is in town?’
‘We’ve already booked,’ Remi says smugly. ‘Months ago.’
‘Drats.’ I lean down and grab a handful of tickets out of my bag, holding them up. ‘These are preview VIP.’
Lily looks edgy and I turn to her. ‘Lily, I couldn’t interest you, could I?’ I offer her the tickets, and she can’t help it – her eyes light up and she takes one.
‘Orchestra pit seating, exclusive entry to the after party,’ I say.
Lily stares in amazement at the ticket. Lulu and Remi can’t believe it either and Lulu glares at Lily.
‘Family connections,’ I say, and flash Lily a smile.
Score one to me!
On to Plan B. I soon have some of the other first years listening to my every word as we sit on the floor before class. Lulu and Remi are still glaring at me.
‘I know this is name dropping a little bit …’ I say, ‘but Misha once brought a donkey to my tenth birthday party. Which was hysterical because at the time we were living in a penthouse.’
Lily gasps. ‘Sorry, you mean Baryshnikov? The most famous dancer on the planet?’