Chapter Thirteen

‘I heard you had a bit of a topple on Saturday morning.’ Miss Caroline stopped out the front of her office.

The light coming in the stained-glass windows made her face look pretty and soft, like a butterfly lady. I watched a dust mote as it wafted aimlessly in the air.

‘Nothing major,’ I said, shrugging my shoulders.

It was Monday afternoon, when I’d usually have ballet. I’m proud to say my latest progress was I only carried the crutch around now and used it for the hard bits, like getting up stairs.

‘Nevertheless,’ said Miss Caroline, ‘you have to be careful. You shouldn’t even be thinking about dancing until next week. If you rush to get better, you deny your injuries the process of healing. An injury isn’t a quick or easy thing, Riley. It’s an annoying ordeal, but unfortunately it’s part and parcel of being a dancer.’

‘Well, the stupid thing is I didn’t even get it while I was dancing,’ I said, and then I felt uncomfortable under Miss Caroline’s stern, kind gaze, so I blew at the dust mote and changed the subject. ‘You want me to print something else off for you, Miss Caroline?’

She handed me her USB. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Just the document on the official exam uniform. I copied it on there this morning. Thirty copies would be great. Afterwards, come and find me in ballet. I need you to take note of everyone who wants a practice CD for exams.’

It was very quiet in Miss Caroline’s office; all I could hear was the faraway clatter of someone typing. There was a half finished cup of tea on her desk. I pushed it to one side and inserted the USB into the computer, tapping my fingers while I waited for it to load.

Up came the familiar icons. I saw ‘Exam Uniform Printout’ and went to click on it. Then I stopped. My right pointer finger hovered over the mouse. I could faintly see my reflection in the computer screen, staring at the forbidden icon. The icon I shouldn’t click. The icon that was none of my business.

I clicked it.

‘Don’t tell on me, tea,’ I told the cold cup of Earl Grey. ‘I’m doing this for the benefit of the other students.’

Yeah, right.

There everyone was, listed in alphabetical order. My eyes darted from the door to the screen as I hunted for the names that interested me.

My own, of course.

But a quick check revealed a blank page for Riley Nason. Obviously my injury counted me out of any critiques.

Never mind. Let’s see what Miss Caroline had to say about Jasmine de Lacy.

Ew. Pretty much under every style was a heap of positive notes: ‘Excellent lines, rotation and turnout has improved significantly, lovely grand battement.’

Blah, blah, blah.

Looks like Little Miss Perfect had her exams in the bag.

I hesitated only a moment before I clicked into Ellie’s. I was leaning forward so far, as if my body would shield the light coming from the computer and not give me away.

You shouldn’t be doing this, I told myself. But at the same time my body felt all tingly, like it was excited about my secret life as a Silver Shoes sleuth.

Ellie had some positive things written in her practice notes, too. But, to my surprise, she also had some negatives. One was what I’d already told her: she needed to get down into her plié more on the chaine. Under ‘Technique’ was written, ‘overextends the back in barre work, funny lines, fix next session’. But it was jazz, Ellie’s favourite style, that surprised me the most, because Miss Caroline had written ‘in enthusiasm and energy, sometimes does not finish movements properly, so can come across as lazy.’ Ellie would NOT be happy about that. She’d been bragging how easily she would ace the jazz exam.

‘Hey Riley, whatcha doing?’

My skin jumped from my bones. I pushed back in the seat. I frantically clicked the ‘x’ at the top of the screen, and almost knocked the cold tea over in the process.

‘Ashley!’ I eventually said (well, really, yelled). ‘What are you doing?’

‘I asked first,’ she joked. ‘Living large in the boss’s office, I see.’

My heart was pounding out of my chest. ‘Miss Caroline asked me to print some stuff off for her,’ I stammered.

Ashley looked at the printer, which was silent.

‘There was a paper jam,’ I snapped. ‘What do you want?’

‘Uh.’ Ashley looked at me in surprise and pushed her hair out of her eyes. ‘I was on my way to the costume room,’ she said. ‘Saw you and thought I would say hi.’

‘Well, I’m busy,’ I said. ‘I have work to do.’ I was being crabby, I know, but I was so flustered at almost being caught that I just wanted Ashley to go away so I could calm down.

‘Oh,’ Ashley stepped into the room. ‘Need any help? The costume room is pretty much –’

‘Miss Caroline asked me to do it,’ I said haughtily, turning to the computer screen. ‘Just go and do your cleaning stuff. You shouldn’t be in Miss Caroline’s office. It’s off limits to students.’

‘But you’re in here,’ Ashley pointed out.

‘I’m her personal assistant,’ I practically shouted. ‘Not you! You’re the cleaner!’

Ashley stared at me a moment and then a look came over her face that I’d never seen in all our months of being best friends.

I didn’t like it at all. It made me feel about the size of a crumb.

‘That’s cool,’ she said, ‘I get it. I’ll leave you to your important business, queen, and take my humble servant self to where I’m wanted.’

I watched her walk away and I didn’t feel like a crumb anymore.

I felt like a speck of dirt instead.