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Jaidev
TARYN’S ACTING WEIRD when I return to the studio. Even weirder than before. Yep, she’s definitely overthinking things. The company dancers aren’t even here yet. Neither are Evangeline nor Mr. Vikas. We’ve still got two minutes until the time given.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her and give her my biggest smile. Bastien finally answered the phone—he’s fine—and I’ve located my suitcase. It’s been found at Heathrow and should be delivered later today. I pat Taryn’s shoulder. “We’ll do this.”
Taryn doesn’t look convinced, she just keeps looking over to the mirror by the large window. “Did you speak to your brother?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I laugh. “I thought it was a life-and-death kind of thing with the amount of missed calls he’d left me. But it turned out he’d seen some cute meme of a cat or something and wanted to tell me about it.” I look at her quickly. “He’s, uh, got problems with addiction, so sometimes he gets really, uh, over-animated about certain things.”
Taryn nods. “That must be difficult. You must worry a lot about him?”
Am I worried now? I mean, yes. Bastien had been speaking so fast. Just like how he does when he’s high or something. But I’m trying not to jump to conclusions. Bastien can be dramatic anyway, and I’m glad that this was nothing, really. Not compared to any of the reasons he could’ve been desperately trying to call me.
“Yeah, I worry about him,” I say. “He’s complicated.”
“Family often are,” Taryn says, and the way her eyes take on a haunted look draws me in. Makes me want to know more about her and her complicated family.
“Brothers? Sisters?” I ask.
“Sisters.” She looks down at her feet, then up again, but sort of behind me.
Thinking maybe someone is arriving, I turn to look. But there’s no one there. Just the doorway showing the empty corridor and the wall to the left, by the window, where a large mirror is in front of a barre. There’s a faint pink hazy area on the mirror. I frown, don’t think that was there before, but then there’s not time to ask her about it because suddenly there are voices.
It takes a few moments for the owners of the voices to come into view in the corridor, complete with a clatter of feet. The company dancers are here.
A glance at Taryn shows me she’s gone deathly pale.
I focus on the company dancers as they enter. They make no attempt to hide that they are looking both Taryn and me up and down with varying expressions of contempt, suspicion, intimidation, and boredom. Only one looks friendly out of the group. There’s eleven of them. They sit on a bench along the left side of the room, alternating ballerina with danseur. They’re all watching us. The men look about as strong as me, and that reassures me. I feel like I’m on the same level. Good. The women are all focused on Taryn, and I wonder what they’re thinking. Several are leaning forward, their eyes slightly narrowed. Two are leaning back though, arms crossed, looking somewhat bored, like they think they’re wasting their time. Most of the dancers look smaller than Taryn, who I know is unusual for a ballerina. She’s got to be five feet nine or ten, and Taryn’s curvy too. These ballerinas for the company look more like the conventional idea of a ballerina: petite and dainty and really skinny—but lithe, strong. I wonder if these women are thinking Taryn doesn’t look like them.
Taryn is shaking, and I reach across, squeeze her hand, try to reassure her.
We can do this.
Mr. Vikas and Evangeline enter, along with a pianist.
“Right.” Mr. Vikas claps his hands in a somewhat theatrical manner before gesturing to Evangeline and then barking instructions.
Evangeline gathers me and Taryn together and goes over the choreography for the pas de deux we were practicing earlier.
“We’ll start with seeing that,” she says.
We warm up, Taryn at the barre and me by the barre, stretching, before we rehearse the pas de deux again. It’s of moderate complexity and we’re not making mistakes, we’re just not executing it smoothly yet. But these things take time. And everyone is watching us. I thought the group rehearsal would be just that—a group rehearsal, but so far, the company dancers are all just sitting on a bench to the side, watching us. Judging us.
I concentrate fully on Taryn as we dance, try to anyway, but when we finish, and I look at our audience, I see several whispering to each other. One ballerina laughs. Evangeline is standing with her face neutral, arms folded. Mr. Vikas is shaking his head.
“No, no, no, this needs a lot more work.” He groans, but then he turns to the company dancers. “Warm up. You all have a vibe together, a way of dancing that embodies the same atmosphere. Taryn and Jaidev need to learn this same vibe. They need to get used to dancing with you.”
Taryn looks even more scared as the ballerinas and danseurs get up, and I feel oddly protective of her.
“It’ll be okay,” I tell her before we’re divided up—ballerinas on the left and danseurs on the right.
And then the practice is on. The Roseheart Romantic Dance Company runs things differently to Avril’s school. Mr. Vikas has us warm up and perform solo variations, asking us to pair up—ballerinas with ballerinas, and danseurs with danseurs—to give peer feedback. The danseur I’m paired with is called Manuel. He seems pretty sound, respectful. Not glaring at me or anything. I think he’s got the role of Theseus in the tour.
“I saw you in Giselle,” he says to me, smiling. “You were really good.”
“Thanks.” I pretend his words haven’t made my heart drop. Giselle was the last ballet I danced in before...
I shake that train of thought away. As Manuel and I perform the various instructions from Mr. Vikas, I sneak glances at Taryn. A ballerina is helping her stretch out at the barre now. They don’t seem to be talking much, but at least Taryn doesn’t seem to be trembling still.
After the exercises are complete, and a few ballerinas have given Taryn small nods of approval when she does a particularly impressive variation, we turn to group choreography for the ensemble performances in act two. Of course, the company dancers have practiced these a lot before and are nearly flawless, but Evangeline and Mr. Vikas direct Taryn and me.
By the end of the practice, I do feel like I am beginning to understand Roseheart’s vision for this version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It’s an unconventional portrayal of the story, but all in all, I think it sounds pretty good. Magical, even.
“We will rehearse again tomorrow,” Mr. Vikas says. To me and Taryn, he adds, “be sure to memorize the timetables. We have an extensive training schedule planned in order to get the two of you ready in time. When we are putting in so much effort, we expect you to, too.” There’s a warning tone in his voice, and it almost feels like we’re being told off for something we’ve not yet done.
“Be there bright and early,” I say.
Taryn lets out a small squeak and a nod, then we are all dismissed. Taryn scurries out and disappears. I’m unsure if she’s desperate to get away from all the company dancers or not. I mean, a couple did look friendly toward her by the end. I think it was obvious to them that she was nervous.
Everyone else exits as I’m grabbing my bag, but one dancer lingers in the corridor outside. A white ballerina with shiny, chestnut hair, creamy skin, and very red lips. Her eyes narrow on me as I approach her. I think she’s called Victoria. I heard that name being said several times in practice—usually in gallant phrases of praise from Mr. Vikas. She was playing Titania.
Victoria doesn’t move to get out of my way. If anything, she almost becomes more solid. Her eyes darken, and there’s tension in her shoulders.
“I know what you did.” Her voice is low. “So, you’d better watch yourself. All right?”
The corners of my mouth twitch. “Uh, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” She raises her eyebrows and lets out a dainty snort. “Let’s just say the ballet world is small. People talk. People know each other. People remember. And people like me don’t forget when our friends, our family, are hurt. When they’re thrown.”
Ice fills my veins. “I didn’t throw her.”
“That may be the verdict the police made, but we all know. Camille sure as hell knows. And I don’t want you at this company, so like I said, you’d better watch yourself and stay out of my way.”
I try not to shake. “Or what?”
“Well.” Victoria laughs. “Do you really want to find out?”