Pirouette

by Robyn Bavati

  Hannah hadn’t prepared her for the size of Carmel College, and Simone had no idea which way to go. She’d asked Hannah to draw her a map, but Hannah had kept putting it off until at last she’d turned to her sister and said, “Quit worrying, Sim, it’s not that hard to find your way ’round.”

  Now, for want of a better plan, Simone was about to follow Adam when someone rushed up to her, flinging sunburnt arms around her neck. “Hannah, it’s so great to see you. I can’t believe you didn’t call.”

  This must be Dani, Simone figured—with mouse-brown hair as short and spiky as she’d expected, though Dani looked a little plumper than she had in the photos.

  “Uh … sorry,” said Simone, “but I only got back on Sunday night.”

  “Hmm! You still could have called. Come on, let’s go see what class we’re in.” She linked her arm through Simone’s and shepherded her toward one of the larger buildings.

  Simone smiled to herself as she remembered something Hannah had said: “Dani likes to call the shots.”

  “You mean she’s bossy?”

  Hannah had laughed. “She prefers the word ‘assertive.’ But yeah, she has a tendency to take over, if you let her.”

  In this unfamiliar environment, Simone was happy for Dani to take the lead, and while Dani chattered nonstop, Simone struggled to make sense of all the references to people

  she hadn’t heard of, let alone met.

  It wasn’t long before she found herself in a large hall with class lists and timetables pinned up on corkboards. She followed Dani until they reached the Year Ten ones.

  “It figures,” said Dani as she stared at the class lists. “I’m in 10F, you’re in 10D. Why do they even bother asking us who we want to be with when they ignore what we say?”

  “We can still hang out at lunchtime,” Simone reassured her as she accompanied her up a flight of stairs and along a corridor.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Dani asked her. “You’re in Room 210. It’s that way, remember?” She pointed vaguely in the opposite direction. “Meet me in the cafeteria at lunchtime?”

  “Okay. See you then.”

  The morning passed quickly in a whirl of new faces and introductory classes. At the break, through a combination of trial, error, and plain good luck, Simone found her way to the office of Mr. Field, the level convener. The door was open, and he saw her even before she knocked.

  “Come in,” he said. “How can I help you?”

  As Simone explained that she wanted to switch from Hebrew to French, Mr. Field gave her an unnerving appraisal.

  “Why the sudden change of heart?”

  “It’s not sudden,” said Simone. “I’ve been thinking about it for most of the summer.”

  Mr. Field scratched his head. “You’re better off with Hebrew,” he advised her. “The French class is already very full, but there are only … ” He rifled through a stack of papers on his desk and consulted a list. “Only fourteen students in Hebrew. You’ll get a lot more attention, and Mr. Aaronson is an excellent teacher.”

  Simone bit her lip and tried again. “I know he is, but … I’d rather do French. You see,” she improvised, “I’m planning a trip to France when I finish school.”

  Mr. Field drummed his fingers on the desk while Simone held her breath. “What about your parents?” he said at last. “They signed off on Hebrew. Are they on board with this last-minute change?”

  Simone hesitated only briefly. “Yes,” she said.

  “So you’ve discussed it, have you?”

  Simone nodded.

  Once again, the convener drummed a rhythm on the desktop.

  “Madame Brun won’t like it,” he began.

  “Pleeease!” said Simone.

  Mr. Field sighed. “All right then.” His tone was grudging. “I’ll see if I can squeeze you in.”

  Day One was over at last, and Simone congratulated herself on having survived it. As she got off the bus at Hannah’s stop, Adam pushed past her and tore down the street.

  “Hey, Adam! Wait!”

  He shouted something about soccer training and kept on running, and Simone ambled along the footpath, in no particular rush to get home.

  “Have some fruit cake, Hannah,” Vanessa called as she left to drop Adam off at soccer. “Dinner won’t be for another two hours. Oh, and check your mail—I think there’s something from Armadale Dance.”

  The letter from Armadale Dance, with timetable attached, informed her that classes would be starting the following week. She’d be dancing on Tuesdays and Thursdays after school, as well as four hours on Saturdays—just enough to maintain her technique and stay in shape.

  She helped herself to some of Vanessa’s homemade fruit cake, then went upstairs to do her homework. Shortly after she came downstairs again, Manfred arrived home, having collected Adam from soccer on the way.

  “Hannah, how was your first day back at school?” He pulled Simone close, dropping a kiss on her forehead.

  “Uh … great,” she said. “How are things in publishing?”

  “Excellent. We’ve got two terrific novels coming out next month. In fact,” he said, opening his briefcase with boyish excitement, “I have advanced copies of both for my favorite daughter.”

  Simone smiled shyly as she took them. “I can’t wait to read them.” She surprised herself by reaching up to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, Dad.”

  Manfred beamed. “I can’t tell you how delighted I am that you’re finally developing an interest in books.”

  “She’s growing up,” said Vanessa, in a voice that sounded both puzzled and pleased.

  Simone blushed, hoping that no one had noticed the flicker of guilt that crossed her features.

  “Hannah,” said Vanessa, interrupting her train of thought, “you’ve got a dentist appointment tomorrow at 5:00, so make sure you come straight home from school.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t look so worried. It’s just a checkup.”

  twenty-seven

  Hannah pulled on Simone’s flesh-colored tights and maroon leotard and threw a sundress on top. Then she rolled up the tights and slipped her feet into a pair of sneakers, as open-toed shoes were against school rules. She stood at Simone’s mirror and fixed her hair. Now she looked the part of a full-time dance student.

  It was Wednesday, her first full day at the VSD. The day before had been an odd one. She’d met her academic teachers and somehow survived a minefield of strangers. Today, though, she’d have to prove herself in the studio.

  Harriet was squeezing oranges in the kitchen, and Hannah’s hand trembled as she helped herself to a glass of juice.

  “Simone, are you okay?”

  Hannah nodded. “I’m always a bit nervous the first day of dance.” She gulped down the juice and a serving of cereal, then stacked her bowl and glass in the dishwasher and said a hurried goodbye.

  When she reached the VSD, Hannah’s heart was hammering. Jess was already in the studio, pulling one leg back behind her and over her head. Beside her, Julie too was limbering up, pointing and flexing one foot at a time.

  Hannah joined them and they exchanged greetings. Then, with one hand positioned lightly on the barre, she stood on her supporting leg and swung the other forward and back, forward and back. She counted to twenty, then turned to repeat the exercise with the other leg.

  “How come we’re only girls in this class?” Julie asked, looking around.

  “We have separate classes for ballet,” Jess explained. “Except on Fridays. But we’re with the guys for all the other dance styles, as well as for repertoire and pas-de-deux. I’m so glad we’ve got Miss Sabto for ballet again,” she continued.

  “What’s she like?” Julie asked, just as a tall redhead entered the studio. “Oh, is that her?”

  “No,” said Jess, “that’s Miss Grunwald. Sh
e’s the—”

  “Pianist,” Hannah guessed, as Miss Grunwald crossed the room toward the piano.

  All the dancers fell silent as a small, thin woman appeared in the doorway, and with an air of authority that belied her size, strode to the front of the studio and addressed the class. “Good morning, girls. Before we begin, is there anyone new this year?”

  Julie timidly raised her hand.

  “Ah, yes, I remember your audition tape. You’re the one from out of state. Have you met all your classmates?”

  Julie nodded.

  “Excellent! Then let’s begin. I trust you’ve all been stretching over the holidays?”

  There were nods and murmurs of assent all round.

  “Good, then you shouldn’t be too stiff. Still, as it’s your first week back, we won’t do anything too strenuous. Let me see two demi pliés with arms à la seconde and a grand plié bringing the arms to fifth.” She nodded to Miss Grunwald, who began to play.

  Rippling music filled the air and Hannah was swept along in its ebb and flow, allowing it to guide her to the heart of the movement.

  As the dancers performed one barre exercise after another, Miss Sabto walked around the room, giving an occasional compliment or correcting her pupils.

  “Nice work, Jess. Alison, those tendus are lazy. Push through the feet. Use the floor.”

  Hannah managed to escape comment until she began her grand battements. Then, under Miss Sabto’s scrutiny, she felt herself trembling.

  “A bit rusty, are you?” said the teacher.

  Hannah nodded.

  “Well, at least you’re nice and supple,” said Miss Sabto. “But don’t cheat, Simone. Focus on alignment, not height. Let me see those grand battements again, and this time, don’t throw your hip out.”

  “And now, an important announcement,” Miss Sabto said at the end of the lesson. “The Bollywood dance we did last year was so well received that we’ve been asked to perform it at this year’s Dance Spectacular. We only have a month to prepare, so we’ll start to brush up on it next week.”

  Whooping and cheering, the dancers high-fived each other as they left the studio, thrilled at the chance to take part in the annual event that featured a range of dances performed by students from schools across Australia.

  “Simone and Julie,” called Miss Sabto, “I’d like to have a chat with you before you leave.”

  Hannah made her way toward the teacher, wondering what it was she’d already done wrong.

  “Mr. Collins suggested you take Julie under your wing,” Miss Sabto began, “and I think that’s a really good idea.”

  Hannah exhaled slowly, relieved to know she wasn’t in trouble.

  Miss Sabto smiled at Julie, who was chewing a nail. “We have a buddy system,” she explained, “and you won’t find a better buddy than Simone. She’s been here since Year Seven, and she knows the ropes.” She turned to Hannah. “To start with, I’d like you to teach Julie the dance so she can perform it with the rest of you.”

  Already warm from class, Hannah felt herself break into a sweat. “The … uh, dance?” she said, stalling for time.

  “The Bollywood dance,” Miss Sabto said.

  For a second, Hannah toyed with the idea of saying she’d forgotten it, but then she nodded.

  “I suggest you get started on it as soon as possible. The quicker Julie learns it, the more polished she’ll be. Here’s a copy of the music,” said Miss Sabto, handing Hannah a CD. “Studio 4 is always open for private practice.”

  After Miss Sabto had left the room, Julie gave Hannah a tentative smile. “I’m free at lunchtime,” she said. “Or if you like, I could stay after school.”

  “This is a … really busy week for me,” Hannah said. “Could we leave it till Monday?”

  “I guess,” said Julie, sagging a little.

  “I’m really sorry,” Hannah added.

  “That’s okay. I understand.”

  Hannah stared at the half-eaten peach in her hand, wondering just how she’d teach Julie a dance she’d never seen. She’d thought of asking Jess to go over it with her, but Jess would undoubtedly ask why she’d forgotten a dance she’d performed so many times.

  At least she’d had the foresight to tell Julie she’d have to postpone it. Maybe Simone could run through it with her on the weekend. They’d have to find some way to meet up …

  “Are you going to eat that,” asked Jess, “or are you planning to just stare at it?”

  Hannah sighed, resigning herself to the fact that she couldn’t make any decisions until she’d talked to Simone.

  “I hope,” said Jess, her expression probing, “that you haven’t changed your mind again about your dancing. You do want to be here?”

  Hannah nodded. “More than ever.”

  Jess let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, that’s a relief.”

  For a moment, Hannah forgot her dilemma as Matthew Holden crossed the courtyard. With his gray-blue eyes and sandy hair, he was easily the cutest guy in Year Ten if not all of the VSD. She perked up at the sight of him. She’d only spoken to him once or twice, but he seemed very friendly.

  “You know,” Jess was saying, “I never told you this, but you were so depressed at the end of last year I was really worried about you.”

  Matt was getting closer now. In a few seconds, he’d walk right by them.

  “At one point,” Jess continued, “I even thought about asking my mum to talk to yours about how unhappy you were. And some of the kids were taking bets on when you’d quit.” She grabbed Matt’s arm as he was passing. “Weren’t they, Matt?”

  “Sorry, what?”

  “Last year,” Jess repeated, “weren’t some kids taking bets on when Simone would give up dancing?”

  “Yeah,” Matt said. He stopped and looked Hannah straight in the eye. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “Really?” said Hannah. Buoyed by his interest, she flashed him a smile.

  “Yeah, really. Not that I should have cared one way or the other,” he added. “It’s not like you ever gave me the time of day.”

  “Didn’t I?”

  “You know you didn’t.”

  “Uh … sorry?”

  Matt laughed. “You know, you’re different this year … ”

  “Different how?”

  “Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but you used to be … a bit of a snob. You’re friendlier now.” He coughed with embarrassment. “Anyway, see you in hip-hop.”

  After he left, Hannah gazed after him, wondering why Simone had never mentioned this gorgeous guy. Had Simone really been unfriendly to him?

  “You know, he’s right,” said Jess. “There is something different about you … ”

  Hannah changed the subject. “Do you think he likes me?”

  “You’d have to be blind and deaf to ask. Matt’s had a crush on you for years. Almost as long as Mitch has had a crush on him.”

  twenty-eight

  It was Simone’s second day at Carmel College, and she and Dani were just entering the school building after lunch when she almost collided with a short, balding man with horn-rimmed glasses. He had begun to mutter an apology when recognition dawned on his face, and he growled at her in a foreign language. Simone stared at him blankly.

  The man went red in the face and spoke again. This time Dani replied in the same guttural language, which sounded as if she was clearing her throat. She seemed embarrassed and gave Simone’s arm a little tug.

  Simone shrugged an apology, feeling sheepish. “Sorry,” she said, her voice small.

  The man grunted and went outside.

  “Jeez, Hannah,” Dani said, after he’d gone. “Why didn’t you answer Mr. Aaronson? That was really rude.”

  Simone turned to Dani in despair. “I … my mind was miles away. I just … didn’t hear a thin
g he said.”

  “He asked you why you dropped Hebrew and you completely ignored him.”

  “Did I? Oh, God!”

  “What is it, Hannah? What’s on your mind?”

  Simone shook her head. “Nothing. I just … ”

  “You must have been thinking about something,” said Dani.

  Simone stared off into the distance. “There’s this guy I met at Candance,” she said at last, picturing Tom.

  “Ah, now you’re talking.”

  “He was pretty cute,” said Simone, “and he … ” She broke off suddenly. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again.”

  Mr. Field was right. Madame Brun was not happy to discover that another student had joined her class. She cast a grim eye over Simone as she took the roll.

  “Why do you want to study French? Pourquoi? Your marks last year are not so good.”

  “My mother wanted me to drop French and study He-brew,” Simone said, in far better French than Hannah could have. “But I finally managed to convince her to let me do French. I think French is a beautiful language.”

  Groans and sniggers erupted around the classroom, but Simone sounded so well-spoken and sincere that Madame Brun beamed with approval. “Oui, c’est vraiment une belle langue. And what beautiful French you have, ma cherie.”

  “Merci, Madame Brun. I practiced a lot over the holidays.”

  Despite having made an ally of Madame Brun, it was hard to get through the rest of the day when the visit to the dentist loomed. Whenever Simone thought about it, a chill ran through her. If only she’d talked Vanessa into canceling …

  But the dreaded appointment arrived, and now Simone reclined in the dental chair, mouth open, while Dr. Johnson prodded and probed.

  “Fischer seal needs replacing,” he said at last, “and put a watch on 5.”

  The dental nurse flipped through a pile of papers. “That’s odd,” she said.

  “What is?” asked Dr. Johnson.

  “According to Hannah’s file, you filled that tooth in March last year, and the Fisher seal was replaced in September.”