As soon as I get out of bed, I can feel the soreness in my muscles from yesterday’s dancing. I limp downstairs for breakfast, calf muscles and thighs aching, and eat my cereal across the table from Edie. “Are you stiff today?” I ask her.
“No. Are you?”
Edie’s hair is already pinned up, and she is clear-eyed and wide awake. I’m still in my pajamas and feel like I’ve been run over by a bus. Maybe it’s the jet lag. “Not too bad,” I say, wondering how on earth I am going to get through today’s classes.
After breakfast, I dress and do some stretching in my bedroom. It helps, a little, and my muscles loosen up as the day goes on. By the end of the first class—modern dance, which I haven’t done much of before but which is totally fun—I’m feeling almost back to normal.
“Nice work, girls,” Diana says. “And now I have an announcement for you—some news I think you will all find rather exciting. I was speaking this morning with Andrew Kingsley, from our very own Pacific Coast Ballet.”
There is a hum of excitement all around me as girls whisper to each other.
“As some of you know, our local ballet company does a number of productions every year. Most of the dancers are from within the company, but sometimes they need child dancers. They’ll be holding open auditions—”
“The Nutcracker!” Julie bursts out. “Is it? Are they doing The Nutcracker?”
Diana holds up a hand for silence, but she is laughing. “Yes, Julie. That’s exactly what they are doing. They’re looking for young kids to play the parts of the mice, the party girls, the angels and the soldiers. I imagine lots of our beginners will be auditioning.”
We all wait, holding our breath.
She smiles. “And they also have something for you girls in our intermediate classes. Because of the number of performances and the amount of dancing required—they’ll be doing the show in two locations—they’re looking for two girls to play the part of Clara. They want girls aged twelve to fifteen who are dancing on pointe. We’ll take you all down for the audition next week.”
I look around the room. Edie’s biting her lower lip, chin set determinedly. Iako’s smiling and hugging herself. Julie is bouncing on her toes. Cam is grinning widely.
We all want it. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t. But, of course, most of us will be disappointed. That’s the nature of ballet, I guess—only a very few will make it all the way to the top.
It sucks.
I look at Melissa. She is standing very still, her shoulders back and her head held high. She looks every inch a dancer. If I had to guess, right now, I’d say she’s got a better shot at Clara than anyone else here.
But I have every intention of dancing my heart out.
* * *
At break, Melissa gathers her group of friends around her. Actually, they all just seem to gravitate to her, like moons orbiting a planet. I follow, because I don’t know what else to do and because Edie is grabbing my elbow.
“So,” Melissa says, “we need to talk.”
“We need to vote,” Anya says, giggling.
“Yeah! Who’s next, Melissa? No-bun Cam?” Zoe makes a face, showing two rows of braces with blue bands.
Melissa nods. “Definitely.”
“Just because of her hair?” I ask. “She’s actually really friendly, Melissa. She seems super nice.”
“Nice isn’t the point,” Melissa snaps. “Nice doesn’t make you a dancer.”
“She’s a good dancer too,” I say.
Melissa snorts. “She looks more like a wrestler.”
I know what she means. Cam has broad shoulders and an athletic build. She’s solid muscle, and although she dances well, she doesn’t have the leggy elegance of Iako, Melissa and Mackenzie. “She kicked butt in modern this morning,” I say.
“Yeah. In modern,” Melissa says. “But ballet? Come on.”
Edie nods. “Melissa’s right, Cassandra. Cam doesn’t really have the body type you need for a career in ballet. Her neck’s too short, for one thing. And maybe that’s not fair, but that’s the way it is.”
Across the grass, Cam and the other new girls are standing and talking together. Cam has an arm across Iako’s shoulders, and as I watch, she throws her head back and laughs.
“So,” Melissa says. “Hands up for voting Cam off.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Zoe’s, Anya’s, Danika’s and Edie’s hands all fly up.
I hate being a part of this. I hate it.
“Cassandra?” Melissa’s voice is cold.
I stand there for a moment, my heart beating fast. I can see my dad’s face and I know exactly what he’d say. Just do what you know is right, Cassie, and everything else will fall into place.
“Come on, Cassie.” Edie nudges me, her forehead creased with worry lines.
“Are you in?” Melissa puts her hands on her hips. “Or out?”
“Out,” I say. “I’m out.” My stomach is tight, and something is fluttering in my chest. I head back into the school alone and wait outside the studio door for our next class to begin.
A few minutes later I am joined by Cam and the other new girls. Cam is smiling as she does a temps levé in arabesque across the hallway.
If she knew what Melissa and the others were saying about her…I manage to force a grin, despite my anxiety. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” she says. “Just looking forward to the next class.”
I’d almost forgotten. All this drama with Melissa and Edie…it has actually made me lose sight of what is important: my dancing. “Let’s just go in there and dance our hearts out,” I say.
Cam holds up a fist, and I bump my knuckles against hers. Over her shoulder, I see Melissa, Edie and the others heading toward us. Melissa’s chin is lifted, her gaze straight, and one hand rests on an angled hip. Every line of her body expresses her fury.
* * *
I do my best to push away thoughts about what happened at the break and focus on my dancing. Diana walks around as usual, correcting our positions, lifting our legs higher, reminding us to soften our arms, to keep our shoulders down and back. I don’t think I am dancing my best. In fact, I know I’m not. I’m concentrating as hard as I can, and I know my positions are technically correct, but when we all go into the center to dance, I can’t feel the music in my body like I usually do. All I can feel is the cold clutch of anxiety in my belly.
If I dance like this at the audition, I won’t have a chance of getting the part of Clara. Clara should be playful, lighthearted. Diana tells us to stop and shake it out, and I take a moment to look around at the others and wonder who will be chosen. Much as I hate to admit it, Melissa’s dancing is always magical. Almost flawless, though of course Diana can usually find something to criticize in every one of us. Edie isn’t as dazzling as Melissa, but she’s neat and capable in an all-round way. Mackenzie is good too, and Anya. It’s hard to compare, because we all have different weaknesses. Iako is by far the most flexible—when Diana lifted her leg above her head during the barre exercises, it was unbelievable how high she could go—but Diana says she needs to work more on strength. And none of us have the powerful jumps that Cam does.
Finally, class is over. We stretch out our muscles and unlace our shoes. I slip on a hoodie, put my pointe shoes back in my bag and take a drink from my water bottle. My heart is beating fast, and it isn’t just from the dancing.
If I can’t shake off my fear—or at least keep it from affecting my performance—I won’t even need Melissa to sabotage my chances.