I gave Jayden a quick wave when I passed him in the hall and had almost made it out the door when Mary Rose stepped in front of me.
“Brooklyn! Just the person I was looking for.”
“I was about to leave,” I said and hoped I didn’t sound too rude. I was done. I needed to get home and crawl into my bed and curl up with a bag of peanut butter M&M’s and look at puppy videos online.
“I wanted to talk to you about your dance for the All-City Showcase.”
“Did it look bad?” I asked, worried she’d tell me I wasn’t good enough to get into the school.
“No, not at all. In fact, it’s the opposite. You and Jayden are incredible together, and I think you both have a real shot at getting invited to auditions for TSOTA, not to mention some other offers for summer intensives.”
I tried to stay calm so she couldn’t see how much I was secretly freaking out inside. She really thought I was that good? Getting into the school was everything. Please, please, please let that happen.
“But there’s one thing,” she said.
My heart sank. There was always a “but,” wasn’t there?
“While your dancing was stellar and you keep yourself busy with classes, you don’t have much else to put on your application.”
“What do you mean? I thought my dancing was enough.”
“Your dancing will get you noticed at the showcase. But if you get an audition at TSOTA, you also have an interview. You want to stand out when you talk to the school. Jayden volunteers and works with all the younger children in the jazz classes. They want to see that you do things like that too. I thought you could do something outside of taking classes. And I have the perfect idea.”
“Sure, anything,” I said, because if Mary Rose could make me well-rounded, then have at it.
“I need someone to help demonstrate all the positions and moves during the conditioning class with the football team. I’ll be leading the boys, but I’d love to have you help out by being the model for class. They’ll be able to watch what you’re doing, which will make things easier. Like when I have the older girls work with your class to help teach new steps. ”
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked, because it sounded as if she’d asked me to help with the football team, which I was definitely not okay with.
“Would you want to be a student model in the conditioning class? I thought you’d be perfect for it.”
I had no idea what to say. Well, I knew what I wanted to say, which was a big fat “no.” I didn’t want to help. I didn’t want anything to do with it. I wanted to stay as far away as I could from that class. But I was pretty sure that wasn’t the answer Mary Rose was looking for.
“Like I said, it will look good on your application. It will help you stand out.”
Good on my application.
Stand out.
Those were two phrases that meant the world to me. So much, in fact, that I was willing to do anything to make that happen.
Even spend time with the football team.
“Okay, I’d love to,” I said. Love to never see the boys again, I thought. But I didn’t say the rest of the sentence. How could I? She was giving me a way to look better, and I needed to take it. I needed to do whatever I could to get into that school.
“Great! I was hoping you’d agree. The first class is a week from today. They’re going to practice the hour before your technique class.”
And just like that, I was the new dance model for the one thing I hated most in the world at that moment. I don’t know how things got turned around so quickly, but now, instead of running away from football, I was charging headfirst into it.
Chapter 8
In order to be a dancer, you have to have a high tolerance for pain, especially when you dance on pointe. There’s nothing easy about dancing on your toes, and believe me, no one wants to see what my feet look like when I’m rehearsing for a performance. Let’s just say I usually avoid sandals for the good of everyone around me.
Dancing was hard, and sometimes I was pretty sure it was near impossible. My muscles ached from the constant beating they got as I tried to master new moves or from pushing my body past the point of exhaustion as I tried to perfect a sequence we had worked on in class. And sure, there were days when I wished I could come home from school and lie around on the couch being lazy or wished I could skip a class to get burritos with Mia, but I loved what I did. When it all seemed like too much, I reminded myself that this is what I’d always dreamed of. I was a dancer. This is the life I wanted. And so I ignored the pain and danced through it.
And that’s what I told myself to do as I arrived at the studio to work with the football team.
“Ignore the pain from having those boys here and keep dancing,” I told myself.
But as soon as I spotted some of the boys from the middle school team heading into the front door it was as if I had swallowed a rock. A deep feeling settled into my stomach as I thought about how this was real.
The football team was really invading the studio.
I ducked into the changing room and wondered if I could sneak out. There was still time to make a run for it, wasn’t there? When Mary Rose asked where I’d gone, I could tell her that I wasn’t feeling well or that I’d gotten sick. Which wouldn’t even be far from the truth, given the current situation.
But I was a dancer. And a dancer needed to be professional no matter what the situation. Some of the most famous dancers have powered through shows with injuries or family crises happening—a lot worse than having a middle school football team in the studio. If they could do it, so could I. I needed to go out there, volunteer, and get some experience to wow the judges with my whole application.
“Keep your eye on the prize,” I told my reflection in the giant mirror that covered one wall of the changing room. “You can handle this and it will all be worth it in the end. Besides, the class is only forty-five minutes long. How bad could it be?”
I took a deep breath, checked to make sure my bun was secure, and headed into the studio.
I entered hesitantly, which wasn’t right, because this was the place where I belonged, the place I went when I didn’t fit in, so why did I feel like the stranger today?
It was also strange to be in my dance clothes when I was used to being around these boys in jeans and a hoodie. Mary Rose required us to wear proper “ballet attire,” as she put it. Girls should be in leotards and tights, and have their hair pinned back. Boys needed to wear dance pants and tank tops.
But I guess the football team didn’t get that memo. Or if they did, they ignored it, because the boys were dressed as if they were going out on the field to practice, in shorts or baggy athletic pants that make swishing noises when you take a step. They had on T-shirts and hooded sweatshirts, and everyone wore sneakers.
I didn’t feel like I belonged, even though I was the one who’d worn the right thing, which made no sense at all. It was like that first day of living in Tanner’s house all over again. When the movers had left and it was only the four of us, Stephen had told us to make ourselves at home, but I hadn’t known what to do, because it wasn’t our home.
I stood at the entrance of the room. No one said anything for a moment, and I had no idea. Usually, we started at the barre, but no one else was there. The boys were in a group in the middle of the room, so it was odd to walk over to the barre. Mary Rose was by the speakers, but to get there, I had to cross in front of everyone, so instead, I stood like a deer caught in the headlights, waiting and wondering what the heck I was supposed to do. Why didn’t I make a run for it when I had the chance?
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and the floor creaked. Randy glanced my way.
“Um, since when do girls play football?” he called out. I didn’t know all the boys yet, since I’d only been to Leighton Middle School for a few months, but I knew Randy. He was hard to miss. He was in a few of my classes and was the type of kid who always yelled things out in the middle of class
when our teacher was talking. What a surprise, he was doing it here, too. I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything different when the boys entered this class.
“I don’t play football,” I told him and made sure to make it clear exactly how I felt about the silly sport. “In fact, I don’t even watch football. But I hear your team is really stinking up the place. So I’m here to help you guys so you can maybe try to win a game or two.”
“Oh, burn!” another boy named Jimmy said. A few of the boys whooped and hollered, and one even clapped at my comeback, but Randy’s eyes narrowed and he clenched his jaw. Before he could do anything in retaliation, Mary Rose clapped her hands together.
“Okay, that’s enough. We’re here to learn the fundamentals of dance so you can keep yourself safe on the field and hopefully move a little faster when the other team is chasing you. Winning is just a plus,” she said and smiled in that way that made everyone like her. Mary Rose was supertiny; she wasn’t even five feet tall and wore her hair in two braids that she pinned around her head like a crown. She was pretty much a real, live fairy princess, and I could easily imagine her dancing in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, one of my favorite ballets of all time. She took dance seriously, and when you were in her studio, you were there to work and she didn’t tolerate anything otherwise, but she always added a playful touch by wearing fun-colored leg warmers with her leotards. Today, she had on one red leg warmer and one white: LHS colors.
Ugh. She better not be infected with Leighton football fever too.
“Brooklyn, why don’t you come up front by me?” she asked, and I relaxed a tiny bit, relieved to know what to do. I stepped up alongside of her, and she placed an arm around my shoulder and gave me a little hug. “Class, say hello to our helper, Brooklyn. She’s one of our best dancers at the studio, and she’s going to work alongside you to provide an example for how to do things in the correct way.”
“Really? We need someone to show us how to spin in circles?” Randy asked. The boy would not quit. “If that’s the case, I think we’re in more trouble than Coach Konarski thought.”
“That’s enough,” Mary Rose said and gave him her trademark look. The one that stopped anyone in their tracks from goofing around or talking back. And just like clockwork, Randy shut his mouth and shrank back into his group of friends.
I didn’t even bother spending a moment getting mad at how idiotic he sounded. Instead, I held on to what Mary Rose had said.
One of her best students.
My cheeks warmed with pride, and I imagined myself sharing the news with her when I got into TSOTA. She’d probably jump up and let out when of those little squeals she does whenever something really good happens. She’d be so proud of me, and I’d thank her for everything she’d done to help me get in. It would be amazing. Correction. It will be amazing. I will get into that school. But first, I had to survive class with these boys.
I gave the group a small wave and made sure to look right at Randy. You may be good at football, I thought, but I’m the one who knows what I’m doing here.
“Okay,” Mary Rose said. “Let’s start by doing some warm-ups at the barre. Grab a spot there while I get the music going. Brooklyn will stand at the front and demonstrate for you. Follow her lead.”
The boys moved over to the barre without complaining, but it was what some of them did after they got there that solidified my original idea that they weren’t going to take any part of this seriously.
A few of the boys swung off of the barre and made monkey noises as if they were in the jungle instead of class. They scratched their armpits and jumped around and acted like they were raised, well, in the wild.
It was horrible. Not to mention superdangerous. They could hurt themselves, or the barre could come loose. Seriously, how immature do you have to be to act like that?
“Hold up a minute,” a voice boomed across the room.
Mary Rose. The boys froze, surprised to see so much power coming out of such a tiny person.
“This will stop right now. I refuse to tolerate any behavior like this in my studio.” She stood in the center of the room and gave each and every one of the boys the same look she’d given Randy minutes ago. I waited to see what she’d do. If we tried anything like that during class, she would kick us right out. And I know that for a fact because once when we were working on a piece from Swan Lake, Adeline waved her arms up and down and made giant honking noises like she was one of the swans in the lake by our school. Mary Rose told her to leave until she was able to get herself together and take dance seriously. “You have about ten seconds to decide if you want to stay here and respect this place or leave. I fully intend to inform your coach about your use of class time here, and I hope that I can say it’s been a positive one. Can I count on that?”
The boys nodded and it seemed as if they were afraid of Mary Rose. Or at least her threat to talk to their coach.
“Good. Now let’s get moving. We’re going to loosen ourselves up, so follow what Brooklyn is doing.”
I led the boys through our usual warm-ups and not one of them grumbled and complained. Well, none of them but Randy. I don’t know what his problem was, but it was clear that he didn’t want to be there.
“Is this all there is?” he muttered when Mary Rose was putting a new song on. “I mean, this is hardly a workout. I do more when I’m volunteering at my grandpa’s retirement home.”
“Really?” I snapped, fed up with him. Mary Rose may have asked me to help with the class, but she never said anything about being nice to them. “You think this is easy? How about you try this?”
I backed up so I was at one end of the room and launched into la seconde turns. I spun around and around and got that rush of pure adrenaline I loved so much. When I finished, I leaned against the wall and my heart raced from both the exertion and nerves of dancing in front of these boys.
“Can your grandpa do that, Randy?” I asked. And when he didn’t answer, I smiled smugly. “I thought so.”
I glanced at the group. Most stood with their mouths open as if I’d scored the game-winning touchdown, and it kind of, sort of felt like I had.
Chapter 9
The rest of the class went by without any incidents. The boys listened to what Mary Rose said and actually weren’t bad at some of the stuff, even if she did change the wording of a few of the techniques to football terms, which to me seemed an awful lot like disrespecting the art of ballet. But Mary Rose knew what she was doing, and I, for one, respected that.
She would ask me to do a specific ballet technique, but then when it was time for the boys to try it, she’d change the name to something that had to do with football. The demi plié became the position you get in to play defense and a relevé was how you went up to catch the football.
“See how Brooklyn is stretching her leg up high like that? You want to pull back like you’re about to kick a field goal.” She turned toward me. “Brooklyn, can you show them how to do that again?”
“You mean how to do an arabesque?” I asked, because the boys should know what it was actually called. It wasn’t like I was turning their football terms into ballet ones.
The only ray of light in all of this was that at the end of class I overheard two of the boys talking.
“This wasn’t as easy as I thought,” Jimmy told another boy named Logan, who nodded in agreement.
“It was an actual workout,” Logan said, and instantly I liked him for acknowledging that ballet wasn’t easy. It was work. Hard work.
Instead of rushing out of the studio, I stayed in the room. Mary Rose always had a cup of tea between classes, so the room was mine. I put on music from The Sleeping Beauty and threw myself into the Fairies Variation. I didn’t think about football, or the middle school boys, or Tanner, or Stephen, or even Mom. All I thought about was the dance and the world I was now lost in. I danced without thinking. I let the motions take over, and everything else fell away.
When I was young, I used to jump into the sw
imming pool at Grandma’s apartment complex and sit underwater for as long as I could. I loved how the world would go silent and the sounds became muffled and blocked out. It was like that with dance, too. When it was just me, it was as if I was in a trance where the only thing I heard was the music and the rest of my brain went blank. It was sitting deep underwater in that swimming pool, and what went on in the outside world was whooshed away and gone.
When I was done, I sprawled out on the floor and tried to catch my breath. I glanced at the clock and was surprised to see that class had started five minutes ago.
There were only one girl from my class here, and usually most of us arrived early to do our own warm-ups so we could get right into dancing.
“What’s going on?” I asked her.
Corrine gestured to the lobby, annoyed. “The boy’s football team is what’s going on. The rest of the class has pretty much lost their minds about them being here.”
“And you haven’t?” I asked her, and when she shook her head no, I was so glad that I wasn’t the only one who didn’t welcome the boys here with open arms.
I headed out to the lobby to investigate and Corrine was right. Beyond a few girls who stood off to the side and looked too shy to talk to the team, everyone else was crowded around them. It sounded as if Center Stage had been invaded by giggles. Tons of them, loud and high-pitched.
Maggie and Elliana jumped up and down and moved their hands around in big, dramatic motions as they told some story to a group of boys.
Adeline laughed hysterically at something Randy was saying, something I’m sure wasn’t funny at all.
Even Jayden was there, talking to some of the boys on the team about a teacher at our school.
This was bad. Very bad, and called for drastic action. I needed to take back my studio and end this madness before my friends forgot why they came to Center Stage. The girls were simply caught up in the spell of football, hypnotized like the rest of the town, and it was up to me to save them.
Friday Night Stage Lights Page 4