No, they weren’t – they were the slip-on kind – but I kept my mouth shut. Shoes! Maybe he was getting a bit more serious about this.
We worked through barre and centre exercises, practised pirouettes, then I showed him a series of steps and jumps across the room. ‘These are called glissades and petit allegro,’ I said, demonstrating, ‘and this is a jeté.’
‘Why do they have different names?’
‘It depends what position your feet are in and whether you start on one foot or two, or finish on a different foot.’
He looked puzzled. ‘What do you call the really big jumps, then – the ones you see the guys do? You know, where they do turns in the air and stuff?’
‘One is a grand jeté en tournant – that’s where you do a big jump, turn in the air and land on the other foot. I can sort of show you, but like I said, women don’t do the bigger jumps.’ I made sure I had plenty of room, then, with a short run-up, I did a grand jeté for him.
‘Where’s the turn?’
‘I’m not going to try that in here. I don’t want to fall over and hurt myself – not now.’
‘Can I have a go?’
‘Sure.’ But I wasn’t sure at all. He was only a beginner – why did he want to try jumps that were so difficult? It was a boy thing, for sure. There had been two boys in Mrs Calzotti’s class and they were always wanting to do bigger and more complicated jumps, but she wouldn’t let them. Sometimes I’d get to class early and there they were, trying out all kinds of jumps before she arrived.
Ricky surprised me. He practised half a dozen grands jetés first, his face screwed up in concentration, and then he tried one with a turn. I gasped as he landed sideways, but he recovered and straightened up. ‘I get it,’ he said. ‘Not like that. Turn earlier.’ He wasn’t talking to me! On the next try, he performed it almost perfectly and I shook my head.
‘How did you do that?’
‘Dunno. I just thought I needed to turn earlier, that’s all.’ He nudged me. ‘Not making you jealous, am I? Sure you don’t want me to take your place in that special class?’
‘Seriously, you should go to a class. You’d be great.’
His whole face and neck turned red. ‘Don’t be going weird on me and trying to convert me to the bell-ay thing. I am the basketball king, not the Nureyev kid.’
‘Yeah, sure,’ I said, laughing. ‘Let’s pack up.’
A sharp knock on the door made me jump. ‘Hello?’ the bald man shouted through the door. ‘Why is this door locked? Hello?’
‘I’m outta here,’ Ricky whispered and climbed out of the window headfirst.
I took the chair out from under the handle and opened the door. ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘The door kept flying open and annoying me.’
The bald man stared at me suspiciously. ‘Who else was in here? I heard talking.’
‘That was me. I have to count out loud for my dancing, you know, for the beats.’
He glanced around the room. ‘You haven’t put the tables back.’
‘I’ve only just finished my practice,’ I said. ‘I’m going to do it now.’
‘All right, then.’ He checked out the room again, as if he was hoping to find something wrong, but the only wrong thing had already disappeared. ‘See that you do.’ He left and I hauled the first table out, laid it on the floor before unfolding it, then I couldn’t stand it up because it was too heavy, so I left it there and unfolded the other one. Now what? There was no way I’d get them up on their legs without help and if I had to ask the bald man to give me a hand, I’d get in trouble.
I slid open the window, hoping Ricky was there, but he’d gone. ‘Rats.’ I had to lift the tables up somehow. I peered down the corridor and saw one of the TV couch potatoes heading for the toilet. When he came out, I said, ‘Excuse me, can you give me a hand?’
‘Whaffor?’ He acted like I was asking him to rob a bank, his eyes moving sideways and back again.
‘I need help putting two tables up.’
‘Whaddever.’
To my surprise, he came and helped me lift them without another word.
‘Thanks a million,’ I said. ‘I really appreciate it.’ He hunched his shoulders slightly, smiled and went back to his TV. Phew!
I thought Ricky might be waiting for me near the park, but he really had gone, so I walked home, thinking about the first new class. Tomorrow at five. I’d have to catch a bus to get there, as Mum and Dad would still be at work, so I needed to find the bus stop and have money for a ticket. Would Mum pick me up? I hoped so. It’d be dark by the time class finished.
I wished I didn’t have to go to school the next day, see Lucy again and have to console her while pretending I thought my place was no big deal, but there was a surprise waiting for me. Jade had persuaded Lucy to play netball in her team after all.
‘What about ballet?’ I said.
Lucy twisted a curl round her finger and avoided my eyes. ‘If I’m not in the class, Mum won’t let me audition for the NBS, so what’s the point of worrying about getting hurt in netball?’
‘But you can’t give up,’ I said. ‘Anything might happen.’
‘Like what?’ she spat the words at me. ‘Darling Stephanie might fall down and break her leg? Hardly. Mum was right – I shouldn’t have got my hopes up. I’ll keep going to class on Saturday, but I’m not going to give up everything else – not when I’m not good enough.’
‘But –’ I wanted to tell her that if she gave up, then no, she wouldn’t ever be good enough, but her face was closed and sullen and I could see I’d be wasting my time. ‘You might change your mind,’ I said lamely.
Jade came over and hooked her arm through Lucy’s. ‘The team will win for sure with you, Luce.’ She narrowed her eyes at me. ‘I suppose you won’t even come to watch us play.’
‘When’s the game?’ I said.
Jade let out an exaggerated sigh. ‘Geez, we’ve only been talking about it for two weeks. It’s this afternoon, after school.’
‘Um – I can’t. I’ve got ballet class.’
The sneer I expected slid across Jade’s face. ‘Yes, you go off and do your fancy tippy-toes stuff. We don’t need you anyway.’ She pulled at Lucy’s arm and they walked away. Lucy didn’t even look back at me.
Fine. I was used to it. And if Mum volunteered to coach them, I’d never speak to her again. I spent the day on my own and sat in the library, trying to read the rest of the book for my assignment. I’d written the review without finishing the story and I knew Mrs Nguyen would ask me more questions. But all I could think about was the class and who else would be in it. Lucy seemed sure that Stephanie had been picked. Maybe it would be the Silhouettes and me!
But there were a couple of others in our Saturday class, including one of the boys, who were excellent dancers. As the bell rang, I skimmed the last few pages in the book and shoved it in my bag. I was right – Mrs Nguyen did quiz me on it, but I managed to answer her questions without looking too stupid.
Time dragged and then rushed in bursts. When I arrived at the studio, it was like my first day there all over again. Shaky legs, brain full of fuzz, stomach churning. I went into the changing rooms to take off my top layer of clothes and put my ballet shoes on. Lost inside my nerves, I barely noticed when the door opened.
‘Oh, that’s just lovely.’ Stephanie stood in front of me, hands on her hips, lip curled. ‘We’re going to be dancing with a cow. Clip-clop.
Behind her was Danielle. Nobody else. That answered my question about the Silhouettes. Danielle stared at me with a face like marble. ‘How did you get in?’
‘Same as you,’ I said.
‘Obviously everyone else was hopeless, then,’ Stephanie said. She moved towards me and I quickly tucked my feet under the bench.
The door opened again and two more girls rushed in, their faces pink and excited. Antoinette and Kate, the two I thought had the best chance of being picked. They grinned at me. ‘How cool is this?’ Kate said.
&nbs
p; Stephanie made a big production out of sighing and shaking her head, like she couldn’t believe she had to be in the class with such a bunch of moronic amateurs. Antoinette made a face behind her back and we giggled.
Someone rapped on the door. ‘Come on, stop yabbering. Ms Ellergren’s waiting.’ It was David, the boy whose grace I’d admired – he’d been picked, too. We all scuttled out of the changing room and into the studio, where Ms Ellergren stood, checking her watch. I knew it wasn’t five o’clock yet, but that didn’t matter.
‘Not good enough,’ Ms Ellergren snapped. ‘I expect you here before five, warming up, ready to begin. Make a note. Lateness will not be tolerated.’
Oops. At least we were all off to a bad start together. Ms Ellergren allowed us time to stretch and flex and then we launched into barre exercises that went on and on forever. There was no music from Mimi – it was all the basics, while Ms Ellergren walked up and down, up and down, adjusting everyone’s positions by millimetres, moving hands, heads, feet, until I wanted to scream. I kept telling myself it was army drill and we just had to drum it in and get it perfect. But as my legs and arms ached and then burned, and sweat drenched my leotard, it took everything I had to keep going after the perfection she demanded.
Finally, it was over. An hour and a half had felt like three days. Everyone’s faces mirrored my own, I was sure. Pale with exhaustion, shadowed eyes. At least it wasn’t just me. But would every class be like this?
Ms Ellergren stood in front of us with her arms folded. Er – had we done that badly?
‘In case you hadn’t worked it out,’ she said, ‘that was a test. Nobody groaned, no one complained. That is what I want to see. Excellence in all things, including endurance and doing exactly what you are told. Well done. I will see you on Thursday.’
We dragged ourselves to the changing rooms in silence. Even Stephanie didn’t have enough energy to sneer at anyone, and that was a relief. Outside, I found Orrin waiting.
‘What are you doing here?’ I said.
‘First night of my cleaning job. Hope you haven’t made a mess.’
‘Just the floor covered in my blood,’ I said. ‘How will I get home?’
He pointed to the street. ‘Dad’s waiting for you. See ya.’
I gave him a tired wave and mooched over to the car, slid onto the seat and lay back against the headrest.
‘Tough class?’ said Dad.
‘Yep. I think I’ll go to football training with Orrin. I need to get in better shape.’
‘Why don’t you go running with him?’ He started the engine and put the car into gear. ‘He bought some secondhand weights today. We could all lift dumbbells together. Even Mum’s going to have a go, she says.’
‘Brilliant,’ I groaned. Weights? I would have been lucky to lift a feather pillow right then. But in the darkness of the car, I smiled to myself. That class had been the hardest I’d ever had, but I’d survived it. When Ms Ellergren said Excellent, she meant it.
Weightlifting? Maybe I’d give it a try.
chapter 19
Dad and I arrived home just after Mum and we found her in the kitchen, leaning against the bench, staring out the window.
‘What’s up?’ Dad said. ‘Did you go?’
‘Go where?’ I asked.
‘I went to watch the netball semi-final at your school,’ said Mum.
I was too tired to manage more than a feeble ‘What for?’
A pot of something boiled over behind her and she turned it down before answering. ‘I wanted to watch the team before I decided about the coaching job.’
I dropped onto a chair and put my head in my hands. I didn’t want to hear her decision. If she was coaching Jade’s team, I’d be welcomed back into Jade’s group with big smiles. Fake smiles. I wanted to be on my own; the outsider.
‘So what did you think?’ said Dad. ‘Have you got the time?’
‘It’s not that.’ Mum put her hand under my chin and lifted my head up. ‘Don’t panic, Brynna, I’m not going to do it.’
‘Oh.’ I couldn’t think of anything else to say. My brain had gone on strike.
‘Don’t you want to know why?’
‘Jade’s too horrible?’
‘No.’ Mum laughed. ‘She’s a good player, but a bit scrappy. And aggro, like you said. It was the parents. Ugh. Not like it was in my day at all. Shouting, swearing, abusing the umpires. I couldn’t believe it.’
‘Kids’ sports are getting a bad name for that kind of thing,’ Dad said. ‘Same problem with the footy. They can’t get enough umpires now. People are sick of being yelled and sworn at.’
‘So, how was your class?’ said Mum.
‘Amazing,’ I said. ‘And I’m worn out. In a good way.’
Dad winked at Mum. ‘Brynnie’s going to lift weights with you and Orrin.’
‘Good idea!’ She nodded.
A sharp Brrrrrrr made us all jump. The phone rang so rarely at our house that we weren’t used to it. Mum answered. ‘Hello, Tam! How’s things?’
Dad and I glanced at each other and waited, listening.
‘Good, good,’ Mum said. ‘Well, you do what Uncle Tony says. If he wants you to work on Saturday, then you have to – it was your decision, Tam. And now it’s your responsibility – no, we don’t. Here, you can talk to Dad.’
She handed the phone over and Dad took it into the lounge room. Through the closed door I could hear his voice rumbling. ‘Tam’s not in trouble up there, too, is he?’
Mum’s mouth tightened as she turned the electric frypan on. ‘No, but he will be if he doesn’t stick to the agreement with Tony.’ She began cracking eggs into a bowl. ‘Grab the broccoli out of the fridge for me, Brynna. He’s supposed to work two nights and Saturday mornings at the garage to pay his board, and now he wants to spend Saturdays with old Teddy Allen, learning blacksmithing.’
I held the sharp knife carefully, slicing broccoli and putting it into a pot. My heart felt heavy, but I knew better than to say anything. Mum’s humming meant that she was busy thinking. Dad came back a couple of minutes later and hung up. All he said was, ‘He’ll learn one day. And it’ll be the hard way, as usual.’
Mum made a funny snorting sound. ‘I’d rather he was here with us, where we can keep an eye on him.’
‘Don’t worry. I had a quick word with Tony. He’ll sort it out.’
‘That’s not Tony’s job!’ Mum said. ‘He’s our son.’
Dad put his arm around Mum’s shoulders and squeezed. ‘I reckon Tony will have a better chance of getting through to Tam than us right now.’
The back door opened and Orrin burst in, bringing cold air and stinky sweat with him. ‘Dinner ready?’ he said.
Mum sniffed and wrinkled her nose. ‘Not until you’ve had a shower and a darned good scrub.’
‘How was your training session?’ said Dad.
‘Full on! But I’ll have to get stuck into those weights and some more running.’
Dad grinned at me. ‘You two can train together.’
‘Me train with the tiddler?’ Orrin spluttered. ‘No way.’
‘Ha. You couldn’t keep up with me,’ I said.
As we all joked and talked, a small glow began to spread out inside me. Was it the class? Or my family, laughing in the kitchen? It didn’t matter. For the first time in ages, I felt truly peaceful and ready to face the world.
The next few days rushed past – practice in the hall with Ricky, another rigorous class on Thursday night and Saturday class, then watching Orrin play and win Best on Field. I was so proud of him that I clapped until my hands stung.
Then we were into the last week of the school term. The netball final was Tuesday afternoon, and all classes were allowed to go and watch. It was being played at the high school gym nearby. I’d heard that our principal had stepped in to coach our team. He didn’t know much about the game, but his wife was helping. Jade, Taylor and Lucy ignored me completely and I ate my lunch with Lala, the Sudanese girl. She was new, lik
e me, and her English wasn’t much good, so I was helping her. It was fun and way better than sitting alone.
We walked across to the high school together and sat up in the top row of seats, the bleachers. The gym seemed huge to me and I imagined being able to practise in here, pirouetting around and around. Even Ricky would’ve been able to jump and pirouette as much as he wanted.
And as if I’d conjured him up by thinking about him, there he was! Two other boys, all in the same uniform, had ambled into the gym with him and they stood there, looking around, nudging each other and slouching in that way boys did when they were trying to look cool. I grinned and said to Lala, ‘Do Sudanese boys act like that?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh yes – only worse.’
Our team had been huddled in a group, talking with the principal, probably getting last-minute instructions, like the opposing team on the other side of the gym. I watched Jade, who was flicking back her hair and smoothing down her shirt at the same time as she checked round to see who was watching. She zeroed in on Ricky, who’d just sat down in the second row, and she straightened up. As soon as the principal finished talking, she strolled over in Ricky’s direction.
It was obvious she knew all the boys and she stood there, hands on hips, chatting and tossing her head. Two of the boys laughed, but Ricky turned several times, as if he was more interested in finding someone in the crowd. Then he looked straight up at me, grinned and pointed his finger. I waved back and my face and neck felt hot. Jade’s eyes followed Ricky’s and when she saw me, her face tightened into its usual sullen mask. I grinned broadly and waved at her, too. So she turned her back and flounced off.
If I hadn’t been at the top of her Most Hated List before, I sure was now.
‘Who is that boy?’ Lala said.
‘Just a friend,’ I said. I didn’t want to explain the ballet thing.
‘He likes you,’ she said, giggling, and my face flamed all over again.
The game started and I followed it closely. Despite all her boasting, I’d never seen Jade play before, not even in training, and I was also keen to see how Lucy went. It soon became clear how our team operated. Jade was the centre, she hogged the ball ninety per cent of the time, and the only other girls who got their hands on it much were the goal shooters. Luckily, Jade was a terrific player. She also got penalised several times for shoving and grabbing the ball from opposing players, but never enough to warrant being sent off. Well, it was only a primary school championship.
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