So what if she put black marks against my name on her clipboard all week? Today, when she saw me dance–really dance–she told me I was good.
Surprisingly good.
Tomorrow, the rest of the selection panel will see just how good I am as well.
‘Hello, Tara.’ Mr Kennedy’s voice is cool.
I smile back nervously, my heart racing. My name is last on the audition list. Yet they’ve called me in first, ahead of everyone else. What does that mean?
‘Ah, hi. Should I start?’
‘No. We have some questions.’
Questions?
‘Are you aware it’s against school rules to leave the boarding house without permission?’
I freeze. Is he talking about last night?
Miss Raine joins in, her voice icy. ‘Tara, an allegation has been made about you and if it’s true we’ll have no choice but to cancel your audition.’
My knees begin to wobble. Who could have told them? My eyes flick to the window, where the other dance students are waiting, their noses pressed to the glass. Sammy, Christian, Kat … and Abigail, an odd look on her face. She wouldn’t have dobbed me in, would she? She’s my friend! She’s been helping me with my dancing all week.
There’s a bang as the door bursts open and Kat rushes into the room. To my amazement she launches into a long explanation of how I spent last night in her room to get away from Abigail’s snoring.
Mr Kennedy looks me up and down. ‘Is this true?’
Kat’s eyes widen. ‘Would I lie, sir?’
‘Miss Webster?’ he presses.
I stare at my feet. Mum’s always told me it’s wrong to lie. But if I tell the truth that’s the end of any chance of being accepted at the Academy.
‘That’s right,’ I whisper. ‘I was in Kat’s room last night.’
Mr Kennedy steeples his fingers, smiling. ‘Excellent. And now I’d like to see this solo of yours that Miss Raine has been telling me about.’
Somehow I find the strength to start dancing. For the next few minutes, I forget about Christian and Abigail and Kat, and who is a real friend and who isn’t. I forget about the audition and what might come next. I forget about everything except dancing.
Miss Raine was wrong. I am ready for Dance Academy.
At least I think I am.
CHAPTER 4
I stand at the top of our veranda steps, struggling with the realisation that this is the last time I’ll be here for a while. The joey I’ve been raising ever since his mother was hit by a car a few months ago nuzzles into my neck, reluctant to let me go.
I step down carefully and place him gently on the lawn. ‘Go on,’ I tell him, giving him a send-off nudge. ‘I know you don’t think you’re ready, but you are.’
He gives me one last look, then bounds off through the shrubs bordering the garden, out into the open fields. He’ll be okay once he finds his own mob to look out for him. I can’t take care of him forever.
Dad appears at my side. ‘It’s time,’ he reminds me, waggling the car keys.
Then I’m caught up in a flurry of hugs from Mum. I blow a goodbye kiss to our farm–the haystack and the shearing shed and my dog–and climb into our trusty old ute, bound for the city and my new life at the Dance Academy.
I got in!
I walk up and down the corridor, laden with bags, searching for Room 16. Finally I find it–my home for the next year. Pushing open the door, I discover my roommate–whoever she is–has already settled in. Ballet posters and photos of dancers cover the wall and the bookcase is laden with plaques and trophies. I dump my bags on the empty bed near the window and grin, trying to take it all in. It’s official. From this moment on, I’m living my dream.
There’s a shriek as Abigail runs into the room. ‘Hey, you made it!’ she squeals, giving me a hug. ‘I was literally doing cartwheels when I heard they let you in. I mean, of course you belong here. So straight away I got us assigned as roommates.’
My heart sinks. Abigail is my new roommate?
Abigail goes quiet. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asks me, her face falling. ‘Did you want to room with someone else?’
How do I put this exactly?
‘No, no,’ I assure her quickly. ‘It’s just that I kind of got a message from Kat. About rooming with her …’
A shadow passes across Abigail’s face. I change tack quickly. ‘But this is going to be so great.’
Abigail’s eyes light up again. She pulls me into a bear hug. ‘Better than great!’ she shouts. ‘This is going to be the best year in history!’
I follow Abigail into the studio, amazed at how many of the other students she knows. I guess she has a huge head start over me, spending all that time here in junior school.
‘I danced every day of the holidays,’ she informs me.
‘Oh, me too,’ I tell her. When I wasn’t helping out Dad with the sheep, that is.
‘I mean, it’s only a hundred and sixty-five days until exams,’ she babbles on, ‘and I really want to win the scholarship this year.’
Who wouldn’t? Winning the scholarship guarantees you a place in the Academy for the rest of the year, all expenses paid. It’s kind of out of my league, though.
We take our places at the barre. It only takes Abigail five seconds to start complaining that another girl has taken her treasured place at the front.
‘Oh, there’s Kat,’ I say, spotting her on the other side of the room. ‘I want to go say hi.’
Abigail sniffs. ‘I told you, she’s anthrax to your reputation.’
I send Kat a little wave anyway. She pinky waves back. I rush over.
‘Hey, Tara-Tiara,’ Kat says, pulling me into a hug. ‘What are you doing hanging out with Abigail? I thought that after audition week–’
I cut her off. ‘Hold it. I don’t know what the story is with you two but it’s the first day of a new year.’ I smile. ‘A whole new life for me! I just want to be friends with everyone.’
Kat raises an eyebrow. ‘Honey, I want a unicorn, but they keep telling me it’s not possible.’
I shake my head. Something’s definitely up between Kat and Abigail. I guess one day I’ll find out what it is.
At lunchtime, I queue up with Abigail at the outdoor café, the sun sparkling on the harbour behind us. I’m in the middle of deciding whether to have the lowcalorie salad (Abigail’s choice) or the shepherd’s pie when the skin on the back of my neck prickles. I swivel my eyes sideways.
Ethan is standing beside me. My heart gives a little skip and my cheeks flush. I hope he doesn’t notice. I’ve had crushes on guys before but never anything like this.
‘Hey, Gloria,’ he says, winking at the coffee lady. ‘The usual?’
‘Sure.’ Gloria rushes to make his coffee and his head turns my way.
Come on, Tara, I think. Don’t just stand there like a moron. Talk to him.
I take a deep breath. ‘So,’ I squeak. ‘How was your holida–’
The next moment I’m lying sprawled across the concrete, staring at his feet.
Ethan pulls me back up. ‘Are you all right?’
I nod. Why do dumb things like this always seem to happen to me when Ethan’s around? In the distance, I make out two giant chickens on rollerblades, travelling fast.
‘Chickens?’ I ask, rubbing my elbow.
‘It’s Orientation Week,’ Ethan explains. ‘People go crazy, pulling pranks.’ He smiles at me, and I allow myself to smile back, holding his gaze in a perfect moment.
‘I’m Ethan,’ he tells me.
The perfect moment drains away. He doesn’t know who I am.
‘I know,’ I mutter. ‘We met.’
He shrugs, confused.
‘Audition week?’ I remind him. ‘In the dressing room? And then the party? I’m …’ The one who’s thought about you a hundred and fifty-six times a day since. ‘… Tara,’ I finish.
Ethan looks even more confused. He drops some coins on the counter then picks up his coffee cup.
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‘Ri-ight,’ he finally says. ‘Well, hey, enjoy your lunch.’
And then he’s gone, leaving me standing there like an idiot.
I stand beside Kat on the dark wharf, the harbour lights twinkling in the distance.
‘Remind me what we’re doing here again?’ I ask her. She appeared in our room after dinner and dragged me out here even though I kept saying I don’t want to get in trouble for being out of the dorms. I didn’t want a repeat of what happened in audition week.
‘It’s an O-Week tradition,’ Kat whispers. ‘You should feel honoured they chose us.’ She turns to a blonde girl I’ve seen around the Academy. ‘Hi, Isabelle.’
Isabelle turns her torch on us. ‘Ah, you’ve brought along another first year. Good. Are you ready to display great courage?’ she asks me.
I crinkle my forehead. ‘I guess.’
Isabelle gives us a wicked smile. ‘We dare you to jump from there,’ she tells us, pointing to the third-floor balcony with her torch, ‘to there.’ The torch beam shines down onto the murky waters of the harbour.
‘Awesome,’ breathes Kat.
‘No way!’ I gasp. ‘We could break our necks!’
Kat rolls her eyes. ‘We’ll be fine. They’ve measured the water–it’s really deep. Seriously, they do this every year.’
‘Well, if you’re sure …’
We strip to our underwear and climb up to the balcony. From up here, the drop down looks even scarier. And then I remember something. That day, back when I was five and I jumped off the top of the haystack. Maybe this will be like that.
Kat edges closer to me. ‘It’s high, isn’t it. Do you think there are any sharks?’ She shivers.
I hold her hand. ‘You’ll be fine. Just think of it as a leap into the unknown.’
Kat turns to me, her eyes huge. ‘We’re going to j-jump down there,’ she stammers, pointing down to the harbour.
I squeeze her hand. ‘Yep. But first we get to fly.’
‘Jump! Jump! Jump!’ call the girls on the wharf.
Then we do. It’s amazing.
Kat’s out first, water streaming from her body. ‘Let’s do it again!’ she shrieks to a chorus of whoops and cheers from the third years.
Suddenly Ethan is here, handing her an enormous towel. ‘Are you crazy?’ he shouts at her. ‘You could have killed yourself!’
‘Guess it would have got me out of class,’ Kat jokes.
Ethan’s face is white. ‘There could have been rocks.’
Kat’s had enough of his big brother act. ‘Hey, I got pulled off that balcony, okay?’ she says, pointing to me as I haul myself up the steps in my bra and undies.
Ethan helps pull me up. ‘Really,’ he says, his voice cold. ‘So I have you to thank for leading my sister astray.’ He hands me a towel.
‘Yeah,’ I agree softly. ‘It probably was pretty stupid.’
‘I’m going to have to keep an eye on you … Tara,’ he tells me.
I watch him saunter away up the wharf, the harbour lights twinkling around him.
Tara, he said. He just called me Tara!
He knows my name.
CHAPTER 5
Although we get to do lots of different styles of dance this year, from jazz and contemporary right through to hip-hop, repertoire class is my favourite. We learn the steps to some of the most famous ballets. Today we’ve been dancing one of the solos from Swan Lake. One day I hope to perform it for real, just like my idol, Natasha Willis. I have a photo of her taped inside my locker.
Miss Raine walks around the studio while we dance, frowning as she points out a flaw, or corrects our arm or leg movements. Finally, the music comes to an end. I step back into the final position, my arms raised gracefully to the sides.
I turn to Kat, my heart full. I love dancing en pointe. ‘I can’t believe we get to do this every day now.’
‘Get used to it,’ Kat groans.
Miss Raine claps her hands, demanding quiet.
‘Girls, tomorrow I want you to come into repertoire ready to dance the Kitri solo from Don Quixote.’
For once something is going my way. ‘Yes!’ I tell Kat. ‘I already know that dance.’
I’m halfway through the door, heading for the dressing rooms, when Miss Raine calls me back.
‘Tara? Please see me before you go. You too, Samuel.’
Me and Sammy Lieberman? What could she possibly want to talk to us about? I really like Sammy. He’s not like most of the other boys here, always trying to prove how macho they are by outdancing, outlifting, outleaping each other. Sammy’s funny and sweet.
We wait near the barre till she’s finished packing her things then stand meekly in front of her.
‘You wanted to see us, Miss Raine?’ I ask politely.
‘Ah, yes. Sammy, from now on I want you to spend part of every day practising in pointe shoes.’
Sammy’s jaw drops. ‘Pointe? But boys don’t do pointe!’
Miss Raine fixes him with an icy glare. ‘They do when their ankles are weak.’
‘But I’ll be a laughing stock,’ Sammy groans. ‘More of a one.’
I flash him a sympathetic look. Sammy’s always getting grief from guys like Sean for hanging out with ‘the girls’.
Miss Raine isn’t moved. ‘At least you’ll have stronger ankles,’ she tells him, dismissing him with a nod. Sammy shoots me an agonised glance then slopes out of the studio, head down and miserable, like one of our farm dogs when he knows he’s done something wrong.
Miss Raine turns to me. ‘Now, Tara.’
I jump in quickly before she can hand out an equally horrible task to me. ‘Thank you for assigning us the Kitri solo, Miss Raine. I know my dancing has been a bit shaky lately, but I really believe once you see what I can do in repertoire–’
Miss Raine’s next words fall about my ears like hammers. ‘You won’t be taking repertoire class tomorrow, Tara. We’ve decided your technique isn’t ready for pointe work.’
If she’d slapped my face I would feel exactly the same as I do right now.
‘But I’ve been en pointe for years,’ I cry. ‘At my old studio, I was the best!’
‘At your old studio, they trained you poorly,’ Miss Raine says. ‘Tomorrow, and until I say otherwise, you’re to go back to basics at the barre. I want you to focus on controlling your turn out at all times.’
She can’t be serious. She wants me to do exercises at the barre like a baby, while everyone else is performing the greatest ballets of all time? I won’t do it! I can’t!
I trail behind her as she marches up the corridor, trying my hardest to convince her she’s wrong. ‘Miss Raine, please,’ I beg. ‘I’m sure I can prove to you that I’m as capable as everyone else. You just have to give me a chance!’
Miss Raine holds her clipboard tightly to her chest. I swear there’s an empty hole in there where her heart should be.
‘It’s not up for discussion, Tara,’ she snaps. ‘And another thing. If you want to start the year off on the right foot I’d suggest examining who your friends are. Girls like Abigail will keep you focused. Katrina … well, you’ll be lucky to make it through the semester.’
She strides off towards the staff room, her high heels clickclacking on the smooth lino, taking my dream of becoming a principal dancer with her.
The next morning, I decide to ask Abigail for advice about what to do. She seems to know a lot about how things work at the Academy. And I have to get myself back into repertoire class. I just have to.
‘Why the long face?’ she asks when I fall into step beside her on her morning jog around the wharves.
‘Miss Raine won’t let me dance in pointe shoes yet,’ I tell her. I’d been so proud yesterday when we’d all lined up to be fitted for them. Now I just feel empty.
Abigail stops at a pillar to stretch her calves. ‘She hasn’t!’ she squeaks. ‘Wow. I mean, I’ve heard of them doing that to students in the junior school, but not here. That’s really going backwards.’
‘I could really use some advice,’ I say, doing my best to ignore the feeling that I’d just shrunk to about a centimetre high.
‘So why don’t you ask Kat?’ she says coolly, taking off again. ‘Look,’ she calls back over her shoulder, ‘I’ve tried to show you the way here.’
I stumble after her. ‘I know you have. Please, Abi. Miss Raine hates me. Tell me what to do!’
Abigail stops. She gives me a long look, then beckons me closer, and begins outlining a brilliant plan to get my career back on track again.
I knew she was the right person to ask for advice.
I hide in the corner of the studio, adjusting the ribbons on my illegal pointe shoes.
‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ I ask Abigail, suddenly nervous.
Abigail snaps open her fan. ‘Trust me. If she’s written you off as the worst dancer in the year, it’s up to you to prove she’s wrong.’
Miss Raine moves to the front of the class. ‘Good morning, ladies. Let me see what you’ve been working on. First group, please.’
She clicks on the stereo and the music begins.
Might as well get this over with. I take my place at the back of the group, fluttering my fan. As the music swells, I leap confidently into the air then rise onto my toes before moving into a graceful arabesque.
The music jerks to a halt. I lower my leg in time to see Miss Raine storming across the studio towards me.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Miss Raine’s face is white with rage.
I hold her gaze. ‘Dancing,’ I tell her. ‘As well as anyone.’
‘If you believe that you must be delusional.’
Is she serious? Abigail was so sure that once she saw me dancing she’d have to let me rejoin the class.
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