‘Your feet were sloppy. You lost your turn out and almost dislocated your knee. There was a complete lack of coordination between your upper body and your arms. Shall I continue?’
I shake my head, working hard to hold back the tears welling in my eyes.
‘I was just trying to–’
‘If you’re going to stand there and argue with me–’ her voice hardens ‘- or worse still, cry–then you can get out of my class. Right now.’
Surely she can’t mean it! Even though it’s the last thing I feel like doing, I perform the traditional curtsey, then stumble off through the corridors, my eyes blurring with tears.
As I reach the exit door I see Ethan and Isabelle–the girl from third year who organised the O-Week jump–draped across a chair outside the girls’ change rooms. Locked in a kiss.
Could today get any worse?
CHAPTER 6
I’ve come to a decision. I’m going to swallow my pride and tell Miss Raine she’s right.
I’m not as good a dancer as I thought I was. At home, I stood out. I was special. But here … As Abigail reminded me in our room last night, I’m just another dancer. I’m at the bottom of every class. I don’t ‘make sense’ like I do at home. Maybe it’s time to go back there.
I shake my hair free of its bun and retrieve my treasured pointe shoes from my bottom drawer. Then I trudge off through the echoing corridors, in search of Miss Raine.
First I need to collect some things from my locker in the dressing room. I’m about to go in when a familiar voice stops me in my tracks.
‘And Tara’s such a sweetie. I really do feel sorry for her.’
I peer around the doorframe to see Abigail, surrounded by a group of first years changing out of their repertoire outfits.
‘Can’t wait for you to tell us why,’ sniffs Kat, stuffing her leotard into her locker.
Abigail ignores her. ‘Obviously they had a quota of country kids to fill, which was the only reason they accepted her here in the first place. But when they realised how far behind she actually is they had to ask her to leave.’ She checks her hair in the mirror. ‘It wouldn’t be fair to the rest of us, being dragged down like that.’
I stand there, glued to the floor with shock. So is this what Abigail really thinks of me? After all her offers to help me? Help me right out the door and onto the first bus leaving town, by the sound of things.
Another voice joins the conversation. ‘I wouldn’t say she was dragging anyone down. I thought she danced that solo really well.’
It’s Sammy. I crane my neck to get a better look. He’s sitting on the bench, spray-painting his hated pointe shoes black. It’s funny how things turn out sometimes. I’d kill to be allowed to wear the things he most despises.
Abigail stares at him. ‘Yeah? What would you know?’ Her eyes narrow. ‘And do you have to hang out in the girls’ dressing room? I mean, how much of a freak do you want to be?’
That’s it. I’ve heard enough. I barge into the room. ‘Abigail, my mum always taught me if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.’
Abigail whips around, her eyes wide. ‘Tara!’ she blurts, trying to disguise her shock. ‘I thought you’d be packing.’
‘Why?’ I fire back. ‘I’m not going anywhere. One bad class … You don’t honestly think that would be enough to make me quit.’
We glare at each other, challenging the other to back down first. No way is it going to be me. Although I can’t see them, I can sense Sammy and Kat silently cheering me on.
Abigail’s not quite finished. ‘If you’re not leaving,’ she sniffs, her face dark, ‘I’m sorry, but I’ll be making an official complaint.’
I’m suddenly aware of what I’m holding in my hand.
‘I don’t see why my training needs to be compromised by some country hick who smells like a sheep, and thinks she …’
Before I even realise what I’m doing, I raise the arm that’s holding the shoes, and whack her with them, fair and square in the face.
What have I just done?
I stand outside the entrance of the studio, still clutching my shoes. Abigail storms past me, holding a wad of bloodstained tissues to her nose. Kat and Sammy bounce in after her.
‘Pointe shoe fight,’ giggles Kat, flashing me a supportive smile. ‘Greatest thing I have ever seen.’
I take a deep breath and go in. I walk straight over to Miss Raine, ignoring Abigail’s death stare and the looks and whispers from the other first years.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘You’re my teacher and I trust you.’
I hand her my precious pointe shoes, then before I can change my mind, head towards the barre to start my exercise regime.
‘Tara.’
I turn at the sound of Miss Raine’s voice. ‘Yes, Miss Raine?’
‘You have unusually good feet,’ she says. Her voice softens. ‘They’re just not ready yet.’
Am I hearing things? Did Miss Raine pay me a compliment?
She waggles my shoes. ‘I’ll give these back when they are.’
Stunned, I thank her then go to the barre, where Sammy is working out in his now ‘ungirlified’ black pointe shoes. We exchange stunned looks. It seems the ‘dragon’ might be beginning to lose some of her fire.
This is the second time Miss Raine has said something positive about my dancing. Back in audition week, she told Abigail she could learn something about dancing by watching me. Me! The ‘country hick’!
I glance across to the other side of the studio, where Abigail is practising her fouettés. Her technique is stunning but Miss Raine was right, there is something cold and clinical about the way she dances. She never seems to be enjoying herself.
Then I realise something. Yesterday’s attempt to get me kicked out of the Academy for defying Miss Raine’s orders probably wasn’t the first time Abigail has tried to sabotage my place here. I’ll bet she was the one who dobbed me in during audition week for being out of the boarding house after curfew as well. If Kat hadn’t stepped in to save me …
I don’t get it. I’m no threat to Abigail. She’s the best dancer here. So why does she hate me so much?
Kat joins Sammy and me at the barre, making a joke about one of the other dancers waddling like a duck. Sammy makes disgusting duck noises with his armpit. I grin at them, feeling more relaxed than I have for days.
I exhale then bend my knees in a deep plié. Miss Raine moves past, giving me an approving smile. I smile back, glowing from head to toe.
From now on, I’m definitely going to listen to what she has to say about dancing. But I’m going to pick my own friends.
CHAPTER 7
‘I tell you, my roommate is disgusting,’ Kat tells us as we head up the corridor to mixed dance class. ‘The smell in our room is so vile, it makes me want to puke.’
‘Poor Kat,’ sympathises Sammy. I miss the next thing he says, because I’ve just caught sight of Ethan and Isabelle, heads close, deep in conversation. It’s like I have a special ‘Ethan’ radar that lets me know when he’s within ten metres. Why can’t it be me he talks–
Kat snaps her fingers in front of my face. ‘Earth to Tara?’
‘Sounds awful,’ I say quickly, referring to the puke. ‘I wish we were sharing.’
Kat raises an eyebrow. ‘You and me? Tara, I’m touched!’
‘Why don’t you get Abigail to sign a room change form?’ Sammy suggests.
Kat rolls her eyes. She holds out her hand for Sammy to shake. ‘Bet you ten bucks she says no.’
An hour later, I’m sitting at the outdoor café, whingeing about Miss Raine. She had a go at me about my lack of concentration, just because I got drawn into an argument with that Christian guy–the one who caught me taking my top off in the guys’ changing rooms in audition week. He didn’t start classes with the rest of us, so I figured he hadn’t got in. But now it looks like he’s here to stay.
The worst part about it is, he didn’t even recognise me! At least,
I don’t think he did. If I hadn’t opened my big mouth and reminded him about what happened, he’d probably have forgotten all about it. He keeps calling me ‘Training bra’, like it’s the funniest name ever invented. Except he’s the only one laughing.
My Ethan radar suddenly goes into overdrive. He must be somewhere near. I hear him before I see him–over the other side of the café–arguing with Isabelle.
‘Look, I’m sorry,’ he tells her.
‘You can’t be serious! You’re not actually breaking up with me!’
Heads turn to stare at them.
Ethan lowers his voice. ‘It’s not you. It’s me, okay? It just doesn’t feel right.’
‘Yeah?’ says Isabelle, picking up a milkshake from the table and tipping the contents over him. ‘So how does this feel?’ Then she storms over to our table.
‘What is it with your brother?’ she asks Kat. ‘Why does he do this?’
Kat holds up a warning hand. ‘Hey, you knew the ground rules. Don’t dump your toxic waste on me.’
Isabelle’s voice softens and a pleading look comes into her eyes. ‘You’d tell me if he liked someone else, wouldn’t you?’
‘Three words, Isabelle. “Told you so.”’
‘You Karamokovs are a chip off the same iceberg,’ Isabelle snaps. She storms off.
Kat pushes her chair back then heads off to the chocolate vending machine, leaving Sammy and me to take in what just happened.
Wheels start turning in my head. Maybe Ethan broke up with Isabelle because he really wanted to be with someone else. Someone like … I mentally pinch myself. No, that would be totally unrealistic. Wouldn’t it?
I sneak a look over to where he’s standing, dabbing at his milk-splattered shirt with a paper napkin. He catches my gaze and shrugs, giving me a lop-sided grin. His eyes seem to burn right through me. Then he’s gone, striding across the wharf towards the main building. I stare after him dreamily. Now that he’s broken up with Isabelle, anything could happen …
Sammy’s voice snaps me back to the present. ‘No … What was that?’
Sprung. ‘What?’ I say innocently.
‘The way you were looking at him just now. You like him, don’t you!’
I jump up from the table before he can ask me any more difficult questions. ‘No I don’t.’
He follows me. ‘Tara. You can’t go there.’
‘Why not?’
‘Did you not see Kat regurgitate Isabelle just now?’
‘It would be different with me,’ I assure him.
He shakes his head. ‘You’re deluded.’
‘We’d be like sisters!’ Why can’t he see how this could be a good thing?
Sammy grabs my arm and drags me away from the café. As we wind our way down the staircase he explains about how his girlfriend, Mia, and he wrote up the pros and cons of their relationship when she went off to be an exchange student in Israel. He reckons it helped them to clarify their feelings for each other.
He settles himself on the bottom step and pulls his laptop out of his bag.
‘Ethan Karamokov,’ he says as he types the name into a new file. He turns to me, fingers poised above the keyboard. ‘Okay, let’s start with cons. Number one. Kat.’
I shake my head. ‘I really don’t think she’d mind.’
Sammy raises an eyebrow. ‘You mean like she “didn’t mind” with Isabelle. All right, what else.’
I pull a face, thinking. ‘Well, I guess it’s distracting. I should be concentrating on dancing.’
Sammy types this in, then does a cut and paste. ‘Okay, I’m going to put that first, where it belongs. What else?’
I hug the railing. ‘The first time I spoke to him I was so nervous, I swear a little bit of vomit came up into my mouth.’
‘Gross.’
‘He also changes the way my heart beats,’ I tell him.
Sammy sighs. ‘That could be a common arrhythmia,’ he says, his fingers tapping away at the keyboard.
I do a little pirouette as I remember something else. ‘When he’s walking, he never looks back. Like he knows exactly where he’s going and that everyone is following.’
Tap tap tap …
‘And,’ I breathe in deeply, ‘he smells like Christmas.’
The tapping stops. Sammy holds up a restraining hand. ‘Okay, I swear a little bit of vomit just came up in my mouth. That’s going down as a con.’
‘It’s a pro!’ I insist.
Sammy snaps the laptop shut. ‘All this list proves is that Ethan’s a bad idea.’
‘No way–’ I begin, glancing up to see Kat descending towards us.
‘I’ve been looking for you two everywhere,’ she says.
‘What’s up?’
A dark cloud crosses Kat’s face. ‘Abigail. What else?’
It’s official. We’re at war with Abigail. Kat asked Abigail to sign the room change form and she refused. When Kat asked Abigail why not, she said she wouldn’t change rooms because Kat ‘wanted her to’. Ouch.
Over the next twenty-four hours we try every dirty trick we can think of to make her change her mind. Like rolling her expensive deodorant stick across the manky carpet in Kat’s room until it’s covered in fluff. Or shaving Sammy’s hairy leg with her precious pink razor. Or redecorating our room with a pile of fluffy toys, pony pictures and kitsch country-style bedspreads and cushion covers we found at the op shop, claiming I was ‘homesick’.
But she’s tough. She never once let herself show we were getting to her. We’re going to have to come up with something much more evil if we want her to let me move out.
CHAPTER 8
That night, while everyone else is mucking around in the common room, I change into my practice clothes and sneak back into the studio. Standing at the barre, I bend and stretch and work my legs and feet through a set of exercises until my leg muscles are cramping and quivering with exhaustion, then I start the set all over again. Miss Raine made things perfectly clear. I’ll never catch up with the others if I don’t work harder on my technique.
Eventually my body lets me know it’s had enough. My hand slips from the barre and I flop down, my arms stretched above my head, the floor cool against my sweat-soaked back.
The door creaks open and I lift my head, straining to see who’s just come into the room. Oh no. It’s Ethan.
‘Oh, sorry,’ he says, his eyes scanning the room, distracted. ‘I’m just looking for my wallet.’ Then he does a double take as he realises I’m lying on the floor.
‘Hey, are you okay?’
‘Yeah … um … no, well … sort of,’ I stammer, making a complete idiot of myself. I pull myself up into a sitting position. ‘I mean, I’d be better if Miss Raine would get off my back, but you know, apart from that … I’m terrified that I’m never going to be good enough, no matter how hard I try … and my roommate is giving me absolute hell and I … I just …’ What am I doing? I cover my face with my hands, too scared to look at his face in case he’s laughing at me. ‘I-I’m fine,’ I finish.
‘It’s okay,’ Ethan says gently, coming over. ‘Everyone goes through this.’ He reaches down to help me up. ‘Here.’
I take his hand. It’s warm and firm.
‘I’ve got a spare moment. I’ll take you through your développés,’ he offers, his lips curling into that special smile of his.
‘Really?’ I blurt, my cheeks burning. ‘As long as you don’t mind.’
‘Really,’ he says, staring into my eyes.
I do a quick hair-check in the mirror while he peels off his overshirt and puts it down with his bag. I can’t quite believe my luck. I’ve been dreaming about spending time alone with Ethan for days and now it’s finally happening.
While we’re dancing I remember all the reasons why getting involved with Ethan is a bad idea. Kat reeled off a list of them today. How he’s the regular Prince Charming to his girlfriends until he gets bored, then dumps them in a nanosecond. How every friend Kat’s ever had has fallen for he
r brother then ended up snotting on her shoulder, hoping she’ll help them to win him back.
But it won’t be like that with me.
I’m hovering somewhere above Cloud Nine as I walk out of the studio at the end of my practice session, Ethan by my side.
He stops at the corner and smiles into my eyes again. ‘Well, gotta go.’
So soon?
‘Thanks for your help,’ I tell him. ‘It was really … helpful.’
Gosh Tara, ten points for scintillating conversation skills.
‘No trouble,’ he says. ‘I’ll see you round?’
I nod, grinning inside. You can count on it.
He’s only been gone a few moments when Kat arrives from the other direction. Phew. That was close.
‘Where have you been, Tara? Sammy and I have been singing soppy love songs at Abigail for an hour. The karaoke show was your idea, remember.’
Oops. I’d forgotten we were going to be doing that tonight. I figured it would be the perfect way to drive her out. Everybody hates karaoke.
‘Sorry,’ I say, pointing to the studio door. ‘I was working on my développés and um … lost track of time. So how did it go, anyway?’
Kat pulls a face. ‘It didn’t. All she did was climb into bed, wearing her eye-mask and earplugs. Then she just rolled over and went to sleep.’
‘Oh, right,’ I say, staring up the corridor to check that Ethan has definitely gone.
Kat follows my gaze. ‘Something wrong?’
‘No, nothing,’ I say quickly.
Kat links her arm through mine. ‘I hate seeing you unhappy, T, but don’t worry. Abigail’s days as your roomie are numbered. I’ve thought of a perfectly sadistic way to fix things.’
Everything is in place for Kat’s new scheme. I lie on my unmade bed, dressed in my sloppiest clothes, waiting for the call from Kat to let me know Abigail’s on her way back from her morning shower.
As soon as the theme from Swan Lake trills I pick up my phone. ‘She’s on the move,’ Kat gabbles. I just have time to hit ‘End call’ and stash my phone in my bag before the door opens and Abigail comes in, a towel draped over her shoulder.
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