I try not to be nervous about warming up with the company. As the only student understudy, I’m going to be completely on my own. But no worries. I’m going to prove them all wrong. I deserve this chance, and I’m not going to fool around and blow it. So I’m in the company studio early, in full uniform, completely warmed up. I am ready.
The company dancers start to wander into the studio in twos and threes, and my heart sinks. Of course company dancers don’t wear the school uniform. Jeremy could have—should have—told me that. I look ridiculous in my white T-shirt, black tights and mid-calf white socks. They don’t even wear leather ballet slippers, only canvas. Everything they wear is ripped and torn, and they have more layers on than an onion has skin. Most of the girls have topped their wooly layers with garbage-bag pants and shawls to keep the heat in. As if Mr. Colson would ever allow the girls in my class to dress like that! The guys are wearing torn sweats—at least I own some of those. I am absolutely not wearing uniform tomorrow.
Some of the dancers smile at me, and a couple even come over to say congratulations. They know better than anybody how it feels to get your first big break. It’s so totally cool. I stay at the barre but keep an eye on the other warm-ups. One of the guys is using a Nalgene water bottle to roll out his calves, and a girl is using pink rubber balls to roll out her feet. I can’t wait to tell Charis—she’ll like that. Another girl is dancing with toe spacers, and man, that’s got to hurt. But I guess it helps when you’re wearing pointe shoes. If guys have to do double tours, it’s fair that girls have to wear pointe shoes.
When Mr. Acton comes in, I’m relieved. This is a long warm-up, and even with all the weird stuff going on around me, I’m running out of ideas. It would probably look really lame if I started to copy what they’re doing.
Class is no different than it is in the school: same exercises, same music. Ballet is all about doing things the same way they have always been done, so I’m good here. My first correction makes my heart lurch, but Mr. Acton corrects other dancers too, so it’s not only me. The most unbelievable thing is that the dancers wander away from the barre from time to time and do their own thing—like rolling out their hips—then wander back, and Mr. Acton doesn’t even seem to mind. Then the music stops.
All the dancers collapse, or, I should say, sink gracefully to the floor. They are so good. Mr. Acton brings up a chair and starts to talk about the storyline of the ballet. I try to keep all the characters straight. There’s the Duke of Athens, who is getting married. There are two guys and two girls; one couple is eloping, and the other is chasing them. Oberon and Titania are the King and Queen of the Fairies, but they’re in the middle of a huge fight. Finally, there’s a troupe of actors doing a play within the play, making fun of everything that’s going down. All these people are in the forest, either going to or running away from the Duke’s wedding. Then there’s Puck. Oberon asks him to make a love potion, but Puck messes it up and gets all the wrong people in love with each other. It takes the rest of the dance to straighten things out.
Sounds perfect for me.
Mr. Acton talks about his vision for the piece and the direction he wants to go with it. Then he gives a speech about how each actor needs to bring “vitality, honesty and freshness” to their role. He gives everybody a copy of the play to read after class, then asks the dancers to experiment with different types of movement that might suit their character. They start to move around the room, and their eyes get kind of unfocused. This is so weird. Some people are playing around with jerky hops, others are waving their arms around in silly romantic port de bras, and some are simply moving about. All the dancers are totally getting into character. And Rick is amazing as Puck. He makes all these quick little motions with his hands, and he jumps up and down, and he hides. He’s even started poking the other dancers, just like Puck does. He really is a sprite. Watching these dancers create something from nothing is amazing.
But it’s also terrifying. I don’t know what to do. I’m used to learning steps, then adding interpretation at the end. In company class, everything is backward, and I feel like an idiot, standing around watching. All of a sudden, Puck pokes me from behind. I swing around, kind of mad because I was startled, and Puck is hiding behind one of the other dancers, waggling his eyebrows at me. Without thinking, I go for him. He dashes around to the other side of the barre. We do this kind of mirror thing, poking at each other from opposite sides of the barre, and then he dashes away again. I leap after him, only to skid to an abrupt stop. Puck’s hiding behind Mr. Acton, who’s standing there staring at me, arms crossed. Game over.
But then he smiles, and Rick comes out from behind him. “Not bad, kid,” says Rick as he walks away.
All I can do is stare after him. Wow.
I bet we could do this with our year-end performance. Odette always knows everything, so she can lead the discussion about vision and direction and everything, and then we can all try getting into character for our parts. And I can’t wait to tell my friends about the warm-up. There’s stuff we could copy. This is going to be great.