“No!”
I’m sitting straight up, staring at the wall, and I feel sick to my stomach. Sweat is pouring off me, and my heart is pounding. Man, what a horrible dream.
I take deep breaths and try to untangle the covers. My bed looks like I had a major fight with a wildcat or something. It isn’t until I’m awake enough to change my sweaty T-shirt that the sick feeling rolls over me again. Rick really did break his ankle, and I really do have to dance. It was no dream.
The looks the company dancers gave me when it hit them that I was their guy? I’ll never forget their faces. Disbelief, anger, horror—even pity. Yeah, pity. This was supposed to be my big break, but everybody knows I can’t cut it. They don’t want me in the part. Heck, I don’t want me in the part. Because I can’t do it.
Rick was so amazing. There’s no way I can be as good. I barely know the steps, I’ve never practiced the lifts for real, nobody wants to work with me, and oh yeah, I’ve only landed a double tour once in my whole life. Don’t forget that.
I crawl back into bed with a clean shirt and curl up under the covers. My options are limited. If I go on, it will be the end of my career as a dancer, not to mention making sure that the whole production is a flop and the company loses all kinds of money and rep because I’m so lousy. If I don’t go on, it will be the end of my career as a dancer, not to mention making sure that the whole production is a flop and the company loses all kinds of money and rep because they haven’t got anybody else to dance the part. Hmm, do I or don’t I? My life sucks.
I have to say, though, that deep down there’s a little part of me that’s excited. I’m talking really deep. But this is the dream, isn’t it? An accidental chance that changes your life? The thing is, in the fairy tale the guy with the chance is a star. I really, really want to be that guy. But there’s no point in kidding myself. I’m not.
* * *
At breakfast, it’s clear that the word is out. My so-called friends are in shock.
“What happened?” Jeremy asks. Another accident in the company has clearly put him over the edge. He’s practically hyperventilating.
“I don’t know.” I shrug my shoulders. “It was on the double tour, I think. I landed mine, but Rick ended up on the floor. How weird is that?”
“Yeah, and it’s always all about you, isn’t it?” Odette says with disgust. “We’re all so glad that you, at least, landed yours.”
“Come on, Odette, you know I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Really? When now you get to be the star of the show? Of course you didn’t mean it that way,” she scoffs as she picks up her tray to go.
Charis picks up her tray as well. “Honestly, Rob,” she says, “nobody ever thought you were going to have to dance. What’s Mr. Acton going to do?”
“A little support from my friends would be nice,” I say sarcastically. I can’t let her know I’m wondering the same thing. Right now, I’d give my big break to anybody stupid enough to take it.
The other girls start loading dirty plates onto trays, all except Sybille. She doesn’t move from her seat across the table.
“Good work,” she says angrily.
“What are you talking about?”
“Rick. He’s ten times the dancer you are. You must have really wanted the part.”
I don’t believe this. “What? You think I arranged for him to break his ankle? Put out a hit or something? Are you absolutely out of your mind?”
“Well, it’s pretty convenient, isn’t it? Now you get to be the big star and save the show. Just like in the movies. You’re no better than any of us, Robin Goodman, so I know there’s more to this story.”
“Yeah, the rest of the story is that you’re not ready to give up this week’s heartthrob, but you can’t let yourself be in love with somebody on the injured list. You’re whacked out, Sybille.”
I must have said it louder than I intended, because in an instant Jeremy is up from his chair.
“She is not!”
“Oh, come on. She thinks I somehow broke Rick’s ankle so I could get the part. As if. That’s flat-out crazy.”
Now it’s Charis jumping to her defense. “Why are you picking on Sybille?”
Unbelievable. “I’m not picking on her. She’s picking on me. What is this, gang-up-on-Rob day? Why don’t you just leave me alone?”
So they do. They all head out of the cafeteria, until the only other person left from my class is Odette, who, like me, is sitting alone at a table. Our eyes meet, but for once she doesn’t say a word.
* * *
After breakfast there’s a big meeting. The whole company is milling about in the big rehearsal studio, looking not so much angry as defeated. Rick’s ankle has guaranteed that the production will be a flop, since I’m going to make them look bad no matter how hard they work. Mr. Acton, Mr. Colson and Miss Amelia are at the front, and even Rick is here, sitting in a wheelchair, his cast covered in autographs. He still looks pretty white. He wheels himself over and parks himself beside me, which makes me feel a little better.
“You’re going to be okay, kid,” he says quietly. “We’ll make sure of it.”
I sure hope he’s right, but I don’t know where he thinks this miracle is going to come from. Because that’s what it is going to take. The way I see it, Noah was strike one, Rick was strike two, and I’m going to be strike three for the Premier Dance Company.
The dancer playing Titania speaks up first. “No offense, Robin, because you’ve worked super hard, but we all know you’re not ready for this. Bellamy, what if we were to rearrange the parts so that Francis Flute plays Peter Quince, Peter Quince plays Demetrius, Demetrius plays Bottom, and Bottom plays Puck? Then Robin could play Francis Flute, which isn’t such a big part. He could handle it.”
Mr. Acton sighs. “We’re less than two weeks from opening. That would mean that every major male role would be weak, with all of you scrambling to learn new choreography. Better that we have only one weak dancer and all of us help him to give his best.”
Titania sighs. “This is a disaster,” she says under her breath.
I totally agree with her. I’m not even upset about being called weak anymore.
“Maybe we could keep most of the male roles intact but put one of us from the chorus in for Puck. We can all learn the part fast enough.”
Okay, so this suggestion makes me bristle. It’s coming from David, one of the weakest of the company dancers. He’s no better a dancer than I am, even if he can learn choreography faster. He’s only trying to take advantage.
“Hey, I have an idea!” someone else says. “Why don’t we let Rick play the role from a wheelchair? That would be a neat twist!” Everybody laughs but me. My dancing is so bad that even a guy in a wheelchair is better? I want to die.
Mr. Acton calms everybody down, then looks at me. It’s my turn to talk, and I’ve rehearsed in my head what I’m going to say. I know I can’t go on. It’s not because I’m scared. If it were just me, I’d go out there, even if I flopped. But it’s not just me, it’s the company. And I’m going to ruin the production for everybody.
I stand up. My mouth feels dry, and it’s hard to swallow. I know I’ll never get another chance like this, but I have to do what’s right. I take a deep breath, open my mouth, and all the wrong words fall out.
“I know I’m not nearly as good as all of you, and I’m scared to death I’ll wreck the whole production. But if you’ll help me, I’ll work day and night to get it right.”
Silence first, and then the whole room erupts in cheers. Rick is grinning crazily, Mr. Acton is smiling, and the others (except maybe David) look like, well, like maybe it will be okay.
What have I done?
* * *
Rick, Mr. Acton and I go to one of the rehearsal rooms by ourselves while Miss Amelia takes over rehearsing the rest of the company.
“Robin, let’s start with the flower scene. We need to go over all of your choreography to see what parts you’ve got down, what parts need work and what parts, if any, we need to remove or change.”
Read: parts you’re so bad at that we have to take them out.
At first it’s hard to dance when I can’t hide in the back row like a good little understudy. Mr. Acton’s eyes are like solar flares, way fiercer than Odette’s puny glares. When I miss a step, Rick yells it out from his wheelchair, and that’s okay, because it’s only us in the studio. After a bit, having two amazing teachers all to myself starts to feel good. Everything’s going great until he starts calling in other dancers to work with me.
First it’s Bottom. Bottom’s character is supposed to be really funny. He has to pretend that he’s the best at everything but then make all sorts of ridiculous mistakes to make the audience laugh. Puck’s character uses magic to turn Bottom’s head into a donkey’s head, making him look even more ridiculous. The scene is really comical, and when Rick and the dancer playing Bottom do the scene, it’s hilarious. But I’m terrified.
Mr. Acton motions for the music to start, and Bottom starts strutting around the studio. I can’t stop laughing. Everything he does is funny, and I’m in awe. I tiptoe around him, staying out of the limelight, waiting for my cue to sneak up behind him. Then I lift the fake donkey’s head to slip it over Bottom’s real head. Unfortunately, I don’t lift it high enough and practically knock the poor guy out with the prop.
“No!” shouts Mr. Acton. “Do it again!” Bottom gives me back the donkey’s head and I try to remember how Rick did it, but he’s getting mixed up in my head with the Puck on the DVD. I have no idea what I’m doing.
After a break, Mr. Acton calls in Peaseblossom, one of the fairies, to rehearse with me. She looks like a thundercloud.
“Can he do it, Bellamy? I mean, really do it?” she asks, as if I’m not there. “I hate dancing with amateurs.”
“Give the boy a chance,” replies Mr. Acton. “You had a first time too, remember.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t as green as this,” Peaseblossom retorts.
“Nor were you sixteen years old,” says Mr. Acton sharply. “Take your place. Now.”
Puck doesn’t really have any pas de deux sections, thank goodness, but there are a couple of small lifts. I’m trying to remember what Mr. Colson said about hand placement, weight and balance, but the music isn’t giving me time, so in the end I just grab Peaseblossom and heft her up. It’s only a waist-high lift, not a biggie, and I think I’m pretty smooth, but all of a sudden Peaseblossom yelps.
“Let go of me!”
I practically drop her.
“You oaf! Bellamy, this isn’t going to work! Look what he’s done to me!” Peaseblossom pulls her top out of her tights, baring her waist. “Ten perfect bruises—on the very first lift! That’s a newbie mistake. Bellamy, he’s not ready!”
Well, thanks for all the support, I feel like saying. No way you’ve got ten bruises two seconds after I let go. But I did forget to cup my hands. I know I didn’t do it right, but honestly, I’ve only had two classes on lifts! Give me a break.
By the end of the day I’m so tired I can hardly see straight, but Mr. Acton decides to let me go back into the regular rehearsal for some general practice. And I’m glad. I don’t want to worry about the choreography or the character or who’s going to be my next guinea pig. I just want to dance.
Finally, Mr. Acton says, “That will be enough for today, everyone. Thank you very much.”
As we pack up our stuff, I hear Peaseblossom and Titania talking quietly. “Yeah, but he’s a great mover,” says Titania.
I know what that means. You say somebody’s a great mover when they have natural talent, but it’s not trained. It’s an insult made to sound like praise. Trouble is, being a natural isn’t enough anymore.
After showering, I grab a sandwich from the cafeteria and take it into the rehearsal room with the DVD player. Not allowed, but I couldn’t care less. As I eat, I watch the DVD over and over. I promised them I would work all day and all night, and I will.