The Hit List

by Nikki Urang

  I think it sounds like a terrible idea.

  “That doesn’t really fit with the dance,” I say slowly, worried about where she’s going with this.

  “That won’t be a problem. I have another dance in mind,” Miss Tasha says.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. We spent weeks learning this one. I thought you wanted us to be ready for tryouts. How are we supposed to be ready if you change the choreography?” Luke’s voice increases in volume and by the time he’s done speaking, he’s yelling at her. He runs his hands through his hair and walks to the other side of the room. He turns back when he can’t walk any farther and stands beside me. His hands stay locked in his hair.

  “You either want to get in front of the talent scouts or you don’t. That choice is yours, but I can tell you right now, you won’t make Fall Showcase with that dance. I’d rather watch paint dry.”

  The rest of the week is excruciating.

  Tuesday is the same as Monday, but with different choreography. We spend the entire rehearsal learning a new dance. By the end of the day, I’m so tired that I start mixing up the steps. Miss Tasha gets annoyed and sends us back to our rooms.

  Wednesday is only slightly better. Miss Tasha can’t yell at us about the choreography anymore. Something clicked overnight and we’re nailing the steps, but we still aren’t playing the parts of heartbroken ex-lovers fresh from a break-up. I ask her if I look happy enough to be in love. She says no, obviously thinking I want to go back to the old dance. I tell her I can’t fall out of love if I’ve never been in love. She doesn’t like that very much and takes her frustration out on us, making us do stupid technique exercises for the rest of rehearsal.

  Thursday, she tries to force us into our parts. She wants me to cry, to get into character. I tell her I can’t cry on command. Luke looks entirely too amused about the whole thing until she turns on him too, telling him she’s sure he’s broken many hearts with all the girls he runs around with and that he should tap into that feeling. That pisses him off and he spends the rest of rehearsal dancing like he wants to punch someone in the face. It doesn’t help the fake break-up sadness. And I kind of want to push him out the fifth-floor window by the end of rehearsal.

  When I wake up Friday morning, I thank God that I get a break from Miss Tasha over the weekend. I walk as slowly as I can to the studio after saying goodbye to Adam and Brielle. Everyone is already there.

  “Nice of you to join us,” Miss Tasha says, looking over at me as I walk through the doors.

  I smile brightly. “No problem.” I don’t want to play games today.

  She rolls her eyes. “Okay, let’s stretch so we can start.”

  Today is no exception to the monumentally shitty week of rehearsal. We make it halfway through the dance before she shuts the music off.

  “What are you guys not getting about this? Let your emotions out. No one is going to want to watch you like this. Technique is not enough here. What do I need to do to get you to see that?”

  “I’m trying. I really am.”

  No matter what I do, it’s still not good enough. I know that. I don’t need her constantly reminding me.

  “Well, try harder. You got into this school because you’re a good dancer, but all you’re proving to me right now is that you’re crumbling under the pressure.”

  “She’s doing fine. You can’t expect us to be perfect in a week,” Luke says, taking a step between Miss Tasha and me.

  I glance at him. He never fails to stick up for me when Miss Tasha’s around, and I’m grateful for it. There’s no way I would be able to put up with her on my own.

  “I can and I do. Do you think a choreographer will put up with this? No. You’ll get fired. I don’t know what you guys need to do, but you need to figure out something because come Monday, I expect huge improvements.” She grabs her bag and swings it onto her shoulder.

  I groan, not sure what she expects to change in two days. The only thing that will be different is I’ll be less angry with her after not seeing her face for the entire weekend.

  She sighs, letting go of her bitchy mood for two seconds. “Maybe you should start by answering this: Why are you so afraid of letting go?” Then she leaves.

  I glance at Luke. He’s staring at the wall, completely ignoring me. I know what I’m afraid of, but it never occurred to me that he might be afraid of something, too.

  THE HIT LIST UPDATE

  October 17

  I hope you are all enjoying your weekend. Here’s yet another update for you. We’ve got some more girls crossed off this week and a new guy on top. The game is heating up. Make sure you continue to check in every week to find out which girl is able to claim the top spot on our list.

  #11 28 points

  #10 27 points

  #2 25 points

  #18 23 points

  #1 22 points

  #3 20 points

  #5 18 points

  #6 16 points

  #14 15 points

  #12 14 points

  #17 13 points

  #15 12 points

  #13 12 points

  #4 11 points

  #9 10 points

  #19 10 points

  #16 8 points

  #7 6 points

  #8 ----------

  Sadie Bryant 34%

  Rachel Barrons 29%

  Samantha Jameson 13 points

  Brielle Watkins 24%

  Rebecca Hemsworth 11 points

  Noelle Sanstrohm 10 points

  Courtney Turner 9 points

  Jessie Freeman 8 points

  Ashlynn Jenkins 7 points

  Kate Williams 13%

  I know this game has been picked up at other schools, which is fine, just remember that it started at The Conservatory and none of those other games are affiliated with this one in any way.

  Until next time, happy hitting!

  ~ THE HIT MAN

  12

  Saturday morning is made for sleeping in, especially when my body hates me from a rough week of practice. Apparently Luke never got that memo. At exactly eight, he pounds on the door to my room.

  “Sadie, wake up,” he yells through the thin wood.

  I pull my pillow over my head to block out the noise and try to go back to sleep.

  “What’s going on? Did someone die?” Brielle asks from her bed.

  Groaning, I throw my pillow at the door, turn over, and pretend I’m deaf. Maybe he’ll go away on his own.

  “Go away. No one’s home,” Brielle yells.

  Or maybe he’ll go away now that he knows no one is here.

  The pounding gets louder.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Brielle rips the covers off her body and stalks to the door. She throws it open. “What the fuck do you want? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

  “Coffee?”

  “I don’t want your damn coffee. I want to go back to sleep. Go away.” She slams the door in his face.

  “Sadie, get out of bed or I’ll come in there and drag you out. We need to practice.”

  “Do something about him,” Brielle whines. She’s already back under the covers with her eyes closed.

  I push off my covers and get out of bed. I open the door, stifling a yawn. Luke is dressed in grey sweatpants and a white T-shirt. His dance bag is slung over his shoulder.

  “I don’t think you really understand the point of Saturday morning. It should be illegal to be up this early.” My eyelids feel heavy and I let them close. I lean against the doorframe so I don’t fall over.

  “That’s why I brought coffee,” he says, waving a cup from the coffee shop down the street under my nose.

  I open my eyes when I smell it and grab it out of his hand, taking a sip. “What do you want?”

  He looks too good for eight on a Saturday morning. His hair is tousled in a put-together-messy kind of way, while I’m sure mine looks like a disaster. His eyes are bright, like he’s been up for hours. The smell of his shampoo mixes with the
coffee. I bet I would look better after a shower, too.

  He smiles. “We need to practice.”

  So, no to that shower then.

  My brain laughs at him, but I’m too tired for the sound to reach my mouth. “Not right now. Give me a couple hours. If you make me dance now, I can promise you I won’t be able to be fake sad that we fake broke up. I’ll be for real crabby as shit that you woke me up.”

  “Meet me in the studio in twenty minutes.” He grabs the coffee out of my hand.

  I answer him by pushing the door closed. He can keep his damn coffee. I’ll get my own. Later. After a few more hours of sleep.

  “I’m not kidding, Sadie,” he yells.

  I sigh, leaning my forehead against the door. He’s not going to give up. “Yeah, fine, whatever. Twenty minutes,” I yell back.

  He laughs as he walks away from the door.

  It takes me thirty minutes to get to the studio. Luke’s warming up when I walk through the door, but he stops when he sees me.

  “You’re late.”

  “You’re an ass. It’s been a really long week and I’m exhausted.” I know I sound whiny, but I don’t care.

  “You won’t think I’m an ass when we make it into Fall Showcase.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “No, I’m pretty sure I’ll still think you’re an ass.” He’s right, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

  He sighs. “Can we please get something done? Miss Tasha won’t be here so rehearsal will be so much better.”

  I know that’s true. Everything is better when Miss Tasha isn’t around. “Fine.”

  I speed through a warm-up, hoping it will get me back in bed faster. Luke smiles at me and turns to the stereo to find the right song. I grab two folding chairs and place them in the middle of the room. The chairs are supposed to be a park bench and we’ll have prop trees and bushes on the set, but this works for rehearsal. I take a seat on one of the chairs and cross my right leg over my left to get into my beginning pose. He walks off stage to prepare for the dance to start.

  The first notes of the music start and I do my best to look like I’m waiting on a park bench for the love of my life. It’s not a stretch to be attracted to Luke. He walks toward me and I launch myself off the chair, running full speed at him, jumping into his arms at the last possible second. His touch is warm against my leg and back. He holds me tight, tighter than he’s held me in rehearsal before. I want to believe it’s because he might like me as more than a partner, but really it’s probably so he won’t drop me.

  He spins me around once and tries to disentangle my limbs from his body. I don’t want to let go. He sets me back down on the ground and he keeps me at arm’s length while I attempt to grab his hand. He pulls it away effortlessly every time.

  This is supposed to be the part when he breaks up with me. But I can see him working hard to hide his emotions. Like maybe he doesn’t want to let me go, either. But that’s not part of the dance.

  He stops dancing. “What’s wrong?”

  “I could ask you the same thing. You don’t really look like you’re about to break up with me.”

  He stops the music and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, you don’t really look like you’re in love, so we’re even.”

  I sigh and sit down in the chair. “This is useless. We’re never going to make this work.”

  “Gee, thanks. Nice to know I’m so hard to love.” The tone of his voice surprises me. He sounds like he actually believes that’s what I meant by it.

  “That’s not what I meant. This isn’t easy for me, Luke.” It’s surprisingly easy to care about him, but I’m not supposed to care as much as I do.

  “And it’s so easy for me?” He’s borderline yelling at me.

  I cross my arms over my chest. “This is insane. Now we’re just pissed at each other. It’s harder to pretend I love you when you act like this.”

  He bursts out laughing and runs his hands through his hair, looking up at the ceiling. “You’re so frustrating.”

  I glare at him. Why is this funny? He won’t think it’s funny when our names aren’t on the list for Fall Showcase. “Yeah, well, you’re equally as frustrating, so clearly I learned from the best.”

  He looks at me with affection. I don’t understand why he can’t look at me that way when he dances. It should be the other way around.

  I sit down on the bench and wait for him to press play. Instead, he pulls me off the bench. “What are you doing? This is where I start.”

  “We’re not dancing anymore today. We’re going out.”

  With tryouts less than a week away, we need all the practice we can get. We can’t afford to go out anywhere, even if I smile just thinking about the idea. “Going out where? I’m not dressed to go out anywhere,” I say, looking down at my spandex shorts and folded-under tank top.

  He pushes me in the direction of the dorms. “Fine.”

  My heart picks up at the thought of spending another day with Luke. The last time had ended on a bad note, but there’s no way I’m letting that happen this time. We’re going to have a good day.

  We pass a couple girls in the hallway. They whisper and stare at us as we pass.

  “Looks like she won’t be on the list for very long.”

  Luke stops walking and turns back toward them. “We’re not having sex. And even if we were, it wouldn’t be for that game and it wouldn’t be any of your business.”

  The girl’s mouth drops like he’s offended her, but she recovers quickly. “That’s not what I hear.”

  “If you spent half as much time studying as you do obsessing over this game, you probably wouldn’t be failing History of Theater right now.”

  She glares at him, but doesn’t say anything more. Luke walks back toward me, placing his hand on my lower back when he gets close enough. I choose to believe he said those things for me and not for him. He wouldn’t have anything to gain by saying it.

  “I’ll meet you back here,” he says when we reach my room.

  “Okay.”

  I watch him walk partway down the hallway before I unlock my door.

  The white board in front of me has a new message on it.

  Went out with Adam. Be back later. But you’ll

  probably still be rehearsing. Have fun!

  Brielle

  I smile at the board and walk into the room. It takes me longer than I expect to find my favorite jeans and a hot pink racer-back tank top. The pink looks great against my tan skin. In my rush this morning, I’d put my hair up in a ponytail, but now there’s a crease from the ponytail holder and it looks weird when my hair is down. I run a brush through it, squirt some water onto it, and scrunch it with my fingers to give it some waves. When I’m done, I can barely see the crease.

  I’m looking for my purse when someone knocks at the door. “Come in.”

  Luke opens the door and sits down on Brielle’s bed. I find my purse shoved into my dance bag and pull it out. The smell of Luke’s cologne spreads through the room.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  Butterflies dance in my stomach. “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  The morning sun has already heated L. A. into the seventies, the breeze warm against my skin. Luke grabs my hand as we walk down the steps. I look up at him, but he watches the sidewalk in front of us. The touch is unexpected and I can’t help my smile. It feels right.

  People fill the lawn outside the school. Most are students looking for a little bit of sun before they have to spend another week busy with rehearsals. Adam leans against a tree, Brielle’s head in his lap. Adam looks down at her and points in my direction. Brielle lifts her sunglasses and waves to me. I wave back.

  Luke leads me to a truck parked at the curb and opens the passenger door.

  I frown up at him. It makes me a little nervous that we aren’t walking or taking a cab. “We’re driving?”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to walk.”


  I get in and he shuts the door behind me. His truck is nice and it makes me wonder if it’s his or if it belongs to his parents. It looks new.

  He gets in, starts the engine, and plugs his iPod into the stereo system. “It’s going to take us a little bit to get there.”

  I watch him, taking in his shorts and T-shirt, trying to get a hint of where we’re headed. “You’re still not going to tell me where we’re going?”

  “Nope.”

  We wind through the busy streets and pull out onto the freeway. It doesn’t take us long to get out of the city and soon we’re heading north, no longer surrounded by businesses and chaos, but rolling hills and trees. Every once in a while the coast shows through the landscape.

  I glance over at Luke. He looks at ease, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the ledge in front of the window. A breeze from the slightly open window blows his hair back. This is the most relaxed I’ve seen him since school started. He catches me watching and I stick my bottom lip out in a pout.

  “You can stop looking at me like that. I’m not telling you where we’re going.”

  I cross my arms over my chest and lean back farther in the seat. “I just assumed we were going somewhere in the city.”

  “You know what they say about assuming…”

  I stare out the window, fascinated by the green hills and clear sky. I’ve never seen this part of California.

  He plays with his iPod until he finds the song he wants. He punches play and sets it back on its holder.

  The opening notes sound familiar, but I can’t place it. It isn’t until I hear the first chorus that I recognize it. The band sings about playing games and making the same mistakes while expecting things to be different in the end. I glance at him, wondering if he knew the song when we danced at the fundraiser together or if he had to track it down.

  A smile plays at the corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t look at me. Was this his plan all along? To take me back to that first night? To prove that we can have good times even with the bad swirling around us?