At recess I sat on my own and watched the other kids and knew that lunchtime would be more of the same. Nobody cared that I was lonely and missing my friends at home. Jade and Lucy only cared that I was good at netball, and if I wasn’t going to help their team win, I wasn’t worth hanging with. After recess, the other kids showed off their projects on sport and I daydreamt about dancing. Then I had a brainwave and, when the bell rang for lunch, I went up to talk to Mrs Nguyen.
‘Would I be able to practise my ballet in the school hall at lunchtime?’
She frowned. ‘I don’t know. If there’s no sport on in there, it might be all right. Shall I ask the principal?’
‘Yes, please.’
I waited with fingers crossed.
A few minutes later, she came back. ‘He says if you eat your lunch and then go to the office person, she’ll make sure it’s not being used. Have you been dancing for a long time?’
‘Three years. There’s a special audition coming up and I haven’t got anywhere to train.’ I didn’t tell her I’d already been in the hall.
‘Good luck,’ she said.
I sat outside on the seats near the office, not wanting to waste a minute. When the second bell rang right above me, I jumped, and then raced in to see the office lady. ‘The hall’s open,’ she said, ‘but you’ll have to make sure you’re very careful in there, or we can’t let you use it.’
‘I will.’
In the hall, I shut the door, turned on the lights and quickly tied up my ribbons. I only had half an hour, but it was better than nothing. Warm-up first – I didn’t dare risk an injury – but then I went from barre and centre exercises straight into pirouettes. One, two, three, head up, eyes on one point. I was getting better, but I wanted to be perfect.
Before I knew it, the bell rang again – and I’d hardly even started! No time to cool down. Off with ballet shoes, on with runners, race back to class. Mrs Nguyen smiled at me as I rushed into the room and sat down, then she started talking about something in the news. My heartbeat slowed down and I listened to her for a few minutes, then my mind swung back to ballet. When I got home, I’d unroll the lino and do another hour at least. Maybe I could find an old mirror in the shed, too, and put that against the wall, or borrow the one from Mum’s bedroom.
My ballet shoes were getting too small, fast. Mum had said it’d be another month before we could afford new ones and I hated to think how much pointe shoes cost. Luckily, I stopped daydreaming in time to hear Mrs Nguyen give us some homework on food groups, and after that I tried to concentrate. When the last bell rang, I leapt up, grabbed my backpack and raced out the gate. No way was I going to netball!
At home, I pulled out my shoes again, tied the ribbons and stepped onto the lino. I was so glad none of the girls from class, like the Silhouettes, could see me. For sure, they’d turn up their noses at me dancing in the garage. They probably had huge marble-floored hallways for their dancing, or maybe a dance space in their house. A whole room. How cool would that be?
As well as cleaning the lino and borrowing a mirror from Mum’s room – just a small one – I’d pinched Orrin’s CD player and speakers. There was so much more to being a great dancer than the steps and routines. You had to feel the music, feel the theatre of ballet, like an actor did on stage. Each ballet told a story, with music and dance, and the dancers had to be inside the music, let it flow through their bodies.
I’d put on extra layers of clothes, but still I shivered in the freezing garage. I did the best I could with the warm-up, then took off my ballet shoes and put on a pair of soft vinyl slippers. They were cheap and it didn’t matter if they got scraped on the concrete. From Orrin’s CD player, Swan Lake began to fill the air and I felt the familiar ripples inside, the notes making me want to float and twirl. I turned it up as loud as possible, then danced slowly on the concrete, not trying to copy the dancers of the real ballet. I was a swan, gliding and turning. If only I was on a polished floor and not concrete – but I wasn’t going to let that put me off. I danced, almost feeling the feathery tutu dipping and swaying with me.
‘Brynna. Brynna!’
I opened my eyes.
Orrin stood in the doorway, looking grumpy. ‘You’re supposed to ask before you take my CD player.’
‘Sorry. You weren’t home. You can have it back now.’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘I’ve got footy training.’
‘Again?’
‘Made the team, didn’t I?’ His grin was as wide as a slice of watermelon. ‘Tell Mum and Dad I’ll be home about seven, all right?’
I gave him the thumbs up and then, as he disappeared down the driveway, I went back to the music, but the feeling was gone. Didn’t matter. I had lunchtime at school tomorrow to look forward to, a whole hall to myself.
Just as I was taking Orrin’s CD player back to his bedroom, Mum barged in the front door. When I explained what I was doing, she sighed. ‘The room looks so bare.’
I glanced around at Orrin’s school clothes and shoes and footy jumpers and books, then I realised what she meant. ‘Tam’s gone already?’
She nodded, her eyes sad.
‘But he didn’t even say goodbye!’ My stomach churned again and I flopped down on Orrin’s bed. ‘He does hate me.’
‘No, he doesn’t.’ Mum sat next to me and patted my knee. ‘He’s an unhappy boy right now, but he’ll come right. He needs to be where he feels at home.’
‘Why doesn’t he feel like that with us?’
‘Tam’s not a city boy, love. He never will be. You can’t force someone to be something they’re not, just so your life’ll go better.’
‘I feel so bad about him getting hurt. Won’t he be lonely up there without us?’
‘Maybe. I know I’ll miss him – and his cranky moods.’ She grinned, then her face darkened again. ‘I can’t say I’m happy about it, not at all. But I’d rather he were back where he belongs, making his own way, than getting into trouble down here.’ She stood up and straightened Tam’s bedcovers. ‘Now, we’d better get dinner ready. I’ve got a physio appointment shortly.’
I gaped at her. ‘Is it your leg?’
‘It’s not too bad. But your dad’s talked me into having some treatment on it. Someone a mate of his at work recommended.’
This was a first. For years, Mum had pretended her leg was fine and refused to see anyone about it. She’d always said nothing would help. She pulled me up from the bed. ‘You’re on rice tonight: we’re having a quick stir fry. And where’s Orrin?’
‘He made the team,’ I said, ‘and he’ll be home at seven.’
‘Did he now? I’ll bet he was happy.’
‘Sure was.’
She hustled up dinner and put it on the table just as Dad walked in. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down to eat with us, his eyes crinkling over the top of his can when I told him about Orrin. And when Mum told him about her physio appointment, he laughed out loud.
‘All right!’ he said. ‘Let’s get the Great Davies Superstar Show on the road.’ Then he stopped smiling. ‘Tam get on the bus all right?’
‘Yes,’ Mum said. ‘And he was beaming from ear to ear as well.’
‘Good,’ was all Dad said.
We cleaned up in the kitchen, while Mum changed her clothes and went off in the car. Dad and I watched the news together. ‘How’s that lino working out?’ he asked.
‘Okay. But the school says I can use the hall to practise at lunchtime.’
‘Great.’
When Orrin got back he and Dad talked footy, but when Mum limped in, everyone went quiet.
‘Has the physio made it worse?’ Dad said.
‘Not really.’ Mum lowered herself into the armchair. ‘I’ve got exercises to do. He said I need to work hard on flexibility and strength.’ She waved a hand vaguely in the air, as if she was thinking about something else. ‘He said I could play again in a month or so.’
‘Play what?’ I said.
‘B
asketball.’ Dad was nearly bouncing in his seat. ‘That’s fantastic.’
‘Yeah, I guess so' Mum said. ‘Maybe I’m a bit old for that now.'
‘Now, now! You were the one who told me they had a social team at your work' said Dad.
‘Should have kept my big mouth shut.' Mum grinned. ‘Orrin, have you had your dinner yet? How did footy training go?’
‘Great! Coach says he might give me half a game on Saturday.' His hair was sticking straight up and when he ran his fingers through it, he looked even more like a rooster. ‘Where’s Tam? I might be able to get him a game in the Under 15s.’
‘He’s gone to Uncle Tony’s' said Mum.
‘What – already? Couldn’t he even wait long enough to say goodbye?’ Orrin’s mouth twisted. ‘What a loser.’
‘Don’t you say that!’ Mum snapped.
‘Oh, who cares? He got what he wanted, spoilt little toad.’
‘He didn’t want to be unhappy and getting into fights down here,’ said Mum.
‘No one forced him to punch that guy, Mum. I’ve heard other stories about what happened. Tam was looking for an excuse to ditch us.’
‘Orrin! He’s your brother.’
‘You wouldn’t think so, the way he was carrying on.’
Finally, Dad stepped in. ‘Tam’s made his own path and he’s got to live with it now. You’re right – he should’ve said goodbye properly, not been in such a hurry to get away from us.’ He pointed to the kitchen. ‘Go and eat your dinner, son, and then you can tell me more about this coach.’
Orrin headed for the microwave, but his face was sad. I knew how he felt. It was as if Tam had suddenly dumped us, as if he couldn’t wait to get away. How long was it going to be before we’d see him again? A lump rose in my throat and I blinked hard. I just had to deal with it. Maybe Dad was right. Tam had gone his own way and we had to focus on what was ahead of us.
Mum sat in her armchair, doing leg lifts, talking to Dad about weights and walking every day. Was she serious about playing basketball again? She’d been really good at it before she married Dad; that’s what he told me once. I’d never heard her mention it – in fact, whenever basketball was on TV, she always made sure to change the channel, as if she couldn’t stand to even watch it. Now she had a sparkle in her eyes, as if all along she’d been waiting for something to change. What could it have been?
chapter 8
I couldn’t wait for lunchtime the next day and if we didn’t have to eat lunch in our classrooms first, under the eye of a teacher, I would’ve skipped the food and gone straight to the hall. When we were finally allowed outside, I grabbed my bag, ready for practice, but the principal stopped me in the doorway.
‘I’m sorry, Brynna, but it seems we can’t let you use the hall unsupervised. It’s an insurance issue.’
‘But I’m only dancing.’
‘It wouldn’t matter if you were just walking around, I’m afraid.’
‘What if a teacher was with her?’ Mrs Nguyen said.
‘Are you offering?’ The principal folded his arms.
‘Yes, I don’t mind. Not every day, but perhaps one or two days a week.’ She smiled at me, but my face couldn’t smile back. One or two days? For half an hour? It was hardly worth it.
‘Thanks, Mrs Nguyen,’ I said, ‘but I need to practise every day. It’s really important.’
‘Oh.’ She shrugged. ‘That’s all I can manage. Perhaps other teachers –’
The principal shook his head. ‘I couldn’t ask, really. And what if other girls wanted to do the same? Our teachers need their lunch break just like everyone else.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I’ll – whatever.’ I was back to square one and tempted to leave a window open and sneak back after school again. But if Mum found out, I’d be in mega-trouble. Wasn’t worth it.
I trudged outside and sat down, watching the others play some kind of ball game on the oval that looked like tag, but with weird rules. I’d played tag all the time at my old school – me and Josie were the top team. I swallowed hard, pushing the thought away.
‘Want to play?’ Lucy asked and I jumped.
‘Uh – sure. You’ll have to tell me how it works, though.’
She quickly explained and I realised it was what we used to call poison ball at my old school. The ball hit me on the leg and someone yelled, ‘You’re it, Snail!’
I grabbed the ball and walked with it.
‘Gotta bounce – can’t do it like that,’ yelled Lucy.
I bounced and sidestepped, twirled around and caught a boy behind me, hitting him on the arm. ‘You’re it.’ Before I knew it, I was into the game and having fun, not thinking about the hall or Tam or anything, just running and dodging, laughing and shouting like all the others. It felt great – almost like I belonged.
When I got home after school, Mum was waiting for me. ‘No overtime tonight' she said.
‘Is that a good thing, or bad?’
She winced. ‘Good for my leg; bad for our money situation. But I have to go and buy a blue top for this social team. Come on, you can come too and help me pick one out.’
Mum couldn’t make up her mind, which was totally not like her at all. It only had to be medium blue and plain.
‘Buy this one,’ I said, holding out a top she’d tried on three times. ‘It feels thicker.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes! Let’s go, I’m hungry.’ And I wanted to practise before it got too dark and cold. But Dad was getting dinner and by the time we ate and cleaned up, it took every bit of determination I had to spread out the lino and start. The layers of clothing made me feel like an Eskimo ready to go hunting and after fifteen minutes, I gave up. I was freezing and my legs and arms were so stiff they wouldn’t do what I wanted them to.
Just then, Mum’s boss arrived to pick her up. ‘You must be Brynna. Hello. I’m Leticia.’
‘Hello.’ I pointed to the back door. ‘Mum’s in there. I’ll show you the way.’ I could see Mum pulling down the leg of her tracksuit pants – she must’ve been rubbing liniment on her shin.
‘Thanks.’ She followed me inside.
Mum’s face was shiny and pink and she had a little glimmer in her eyes; as she grabbed her handbag, she fumbled and dropped it on the floor. ‘Sorry. I’m a butterfingers tonight. Hope I’m not like this on the court.’ She laughed and sounded like a strangled cat.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Leticia said. ‘It’s only a little training session and we have a good laugh while we’re at it. You’ll be taking it easy, won’t you?’
‘Sure will,’ Mum said. ‘Let’s go, then. See you later, Brynna. Bye, Mike.’
Dad grinned and waved and settled back onto the couch with Orrin to watch the news. I sat with them and worried about my ballet and how badly my practice was going. I had to find somewhere warmer and bigger, but where?
‘What’s the matter?’ Dad said, when I’d sighed for about the fifth time.
‘Same old, same old,’ I said. ‘Nowhere to dance. The garage’s way too cold at night and I’m worried. Ms Ellergren’s a lot harder than Mrs Calzotti. I’m going to have trouble keeping up, let alone improving, if I can’t practise properly.’
‘Hmmm, I don’t know what to suggest.’ He scratched his head. ‘I called in to the local scout hall on the way home tonight, but they charge rental. The guy said they need the funds and they can’t give it away.’
‘Did you leave a window open for me?’
‘Brynna!’ He laughed. ‘We’re not going there again, all right? We’ll find something – it might take a while, though.’
I couldn’t wait. I absolutely had to find a space. I was sure Ms Ellergren would tell us on Saturday when the new class was starting and there was a good chance it was going to be that week. Surely Mum couldn’t say then that it was impossible!
Orrin went off for a run and by the time I’d finished my homework and was ready for bed, he was back. But Mum still wasn’t home.
I
read for a while, then heard her come in the front door, followed by lots of laughing and chatter, so I leapt out of bed to see what was going on. Mum sat on the couch, with her leg stretched out over Dad’s lap. He was looking at the scar on her shin.
‘What’s the matter?’ I said.
‘Nothing.’ There was a big smile on her face. ‘I’ve been running around all night like a chook with its head cut off, that’s all. And my leg held up way better than I thought.’
I looked at the scar that stood out on her skin like a shiny pink smear. ‘So it didn’t hurt at all?’
‘It did,’ she admitted, ‘but it was only a bit of an ache. The physio said the more I work on the muscles, the better. And walking will help, too.’
‘Oh.’ It all seemed a bit weird to me. First Mum pretended like basketball was of no interest to her at all, and now she was right into it again. I didn’t get it. ‘How come you’re doing this now? Why weren’t you playing in Bendigo?’
Dad opened his mouth to answer, but Mum held up her hand and he stopped. ‘The timing wasn’t right, that’s all,’ she said, but she couldn’t quite meet my eyes and a little shiver ran down my spine.
Fine, then, if she wanted to keep some kind of stupid secret. Grown-ups were a real pain sometimes, thinking you were too young to know about stuff. What was the big deal about basketball anyway? I said goodnight and stomped off to bed.
Mum came to the door of my room and I thought she might be going to tell me after all. ‘Leticia has promised me overtime tomorrow and Friday, so I think we could buy you some new ballet shoes this week, if you like.’
If I liked! My feet tingled and I jumped out of bed to hug her. ‘That’d be fantastic! Can we go on Saturday after class? Please?’
‘I guess so. They’ll be the cheapest brand, though.’
‘I don’t care,’ I said. ‘As long as they fit.’ After she left, I lay in bed, imagining how much better I’d dance for Ms Ellergren in shoes that didn’t pinch my toes. If only there was a shop where I could buy magic shoes that would make me dance perfectly all the time!
Saturday’s class came too slowly for me, but I persisted with the lino in the garage and Mum’s dresser mirror, checking my shoulders and arms constantly in case it made that little bit of difference I needed. As we entered the studio, my hands were so sweaty I had to wipe them on my tracksuit pants several times. Ms Ellergren was talking to the piano player and we waited until she was free.
One Perfect Pirouette Page 6