Step Up and Dance

by Thalia Kalipsakis

  Sorry? I clenched my jaw tight, staring hard at the plastic of my pompom bag like it was the most amazing thing in the world. I was so angry I could hardly breathe.

  He was trying to say sorry!

  But that wasn’t enough for me right now. Dancing was my life. My dream. And he’d messed around with that as if dancing meant nothing. As if dancing were just some bimbo thing. Sorry wasn’t ever going to cut through this.

  ‘Anyway, I suppose the season’s over for you too.’ He still had the same soft tone in his voice.

  All over, Jay? If only you knew. I spun around to face him then, fists clenched tight, shoulders ready for a fight. But when I looked up into his eyes, all I wanted to do was cry.

  He was frowning, mouth soft – sad about Magic’s loss. But Jay had no idea what I was feeling. Not really.

  And that made it all so much worse.

  Biting my bottom lip, I tilted my head down and pushed past Jay to my side of the back seat.

  The whole way home, I stayed quiet, looking out the window and nodding sometimes about various parts of that horrid game, letting the ball of anger roll and grumble inside. All I could think of was getting home and calling Summer. She had been right about Jay all along.

  When Jay’s family dropped me home, I opened the front door quiet and slow, hoping to sneak into my room. Alone with my mobile at last.

  I almost made it. But Dad caught up with me in the hall, moving faster than I’d seen him do for years.

  ‘Saph, we need to talk.’ Somehow he managed to look tired and alert at the same time.

  Great, stupendous, magnificent! That was all I needed. Could tonight get any better? I dumped all my bags and leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

  ‘That new dance . . .’ Dad’s accent was thick. Was he blushing? Or was that the flush of fury on his cheeks? ‘I saw it on the television. You’re too young to dance like that, Saph.’

  I snorted and shook my head. He spent so much time trying to keep me little, he had no idea what was really going on in my life.

  ‘Yeah, maybe you’re right.’ Seeing as I was going to be chucked out of the troupe, it wasn’t really worth the fight. Dad thought I was playing games.

  ‘I mean it, Saph, we have to talk about this.’

  Again, I shook my head, feeling numb. A whole series of ‘nots’ was running though my mind: not old enough, not genuine enough, not sexy enough. Not . . . never enough.

  Dad was peering at me closely, his dark eyes flashing.

  ‘You know what, Dad? I’ll quit. How do you like that?’

  He leaned back slightly, eyes darting across my face as if I’d suddenly morphed into an alien. ‘Sapho . . .’

  ‘So there’s nothing to talk about, okay?’ I was already crying deep in my chest, holding it down there with effort. The words came out choked and whiney. ‘I’ll never dance again; will that make you happy?’

  Dad shook his head, confused.

  I left him alone in the hall, a mess of bags at his feet. Then I shut my bedroom door quietly and let my tears start to fall.

  CHAPTER 10

  The next morning I woke up late, a brown smudge of foundation on my pillow, my mobile resting beside it because I’d been texting Summer late into the night.

  We have to stop this, Summer had sent some time around 2 am. Get him back 4 good.

  I rolled onto my side and rubbed a crusty bit of mascara from the corner of my eye. Damien looked down at me from the back of my door – bushy hair, rounded shoulders, broad cheeks. I’d been to the moon and back since I’d first fallen for him. The man of my dreams? Not anymore.

  Anyway, I was finished with dreams for good.

  I pulled down the poster, not worrying when a corner tore, and crumpled it into my bin. It seemed so flimsy now.

  Then I showered quickly. I didn’t bother to put on fresh make-up after I’d washed off last night’s. Grabbing a bag and a coat, I headed for the front door.

  ‘I’m going out!’ I called at the kitchen.

  Mum and Dad both appeared in the hall.

  ‘Saph …’ Dad’s voice was rough, worried.

  I almost felt sorry for him. ‘I’m okay. Just going out with Summer.’ I smiled, trying to show everything was fine. ‘I’ll be back this afternoon.’

  Mum jerked a nod, almost dropping the mug in her hands. Good. With a wave, I headed out the door.

  I seemed to be escaping a lot these days – out of the changerooms last night, and now out of the house.

  The funny things was, making Lesley happy with the new opener was a sure-fire way to make Dad mad. And being a good girl for Dad? That would mean an unhappy Lesley. But here was the pure genius of it all – in one spectacular night, I’d managed to upset both of them.

  Well done, Saph. What a legend.

  ‘You won’t have to do a thing,’ said Summer. She lifted the lid off her take-away latte and sipped gently. ‘I’ll do all the talking.’

  We were sitting on the wooden railing next to the Sports Centre, watching cars pull up for the start of the Bats game. Deep in enemy territory.

  I broke the top off my blueberry muffin (a present from Summer, my one true love!) and sank my teeth into the blueberry heaven.

  ‘Tit for tat,’ said Summer.

  ‘Tit for what?’

  ‘Oh shut up.’ Summer nudged me hard, making me shoot out a leg to catch myself. ‘He got you kicked off the troupe, so you get him kicked off the team.’ She shrugged as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

  ‘Maybe,’ I said, staring over at the big doors of the Sports Centre. But I wasn’t too sure. As much as I hated Jay right now, I knew that he hadn’t planned my wobble on purpose. How could he? He’d just been mucking around.

  But that was what stuck so sharp in my throat. Jay thought whistling while I danced was like a prank during assembly, or lunchtime basketball: a prank that couldn’t really hurt.

  He clearly had no idea how important dancing was to me. Maybe he didn’t care.

  ‘Come on, Saph. He deserves this.’ Summer broke off a bit of my muffin and kept talking while she ate. ‘Besides, I get to talk to his cute coach.’ She pouted and fluttered her eyelids.

  ‘Floozy,’ I said, brushing a bunch of blue crumbs from her cheek. ‘Come on, let’s check it out.’

  I was surprised at how many people were in the stands. They were as loud and excited as any NBL crowd. For a moment my thoughts lifted with them – the speed of a good game, the thrill of a win.

  Then I shivered and shook my head. Snap out of it! They’re the deluded ones . . . using up good weekend time to watch the boring old Bats.

  We sat near the entrance, perfect for a quick getaway, and safely out of view behind a pillar.

  ‘There he is,’ said Summer, breaking into a huge grin.

  For a second I thought she was beaming like a lighthouse about Jay. But then I saw the coach. He was cute, with broad shoulders and fair hair that flopped perfectly over his square face. Exactly Summer’s type.

  ‘I think I’m in love,’ she said.

  On the court, Jay was running warm-up laps with his team. Seeing him again gave me a hollow feeling inside. I was glad he couldn’t see me.

  ‘Back for more, eh?’ Suddenly something big and sweaty was sitting on the steps beside me. Chook grinned, then leaned past me (ick, too close!) and winked at Summer.

  ‘Aren’t you meant to be on the court?’ I said quickly. Or climbing back into your hole?

  He shrugged two huge shoulders. (How could someone grow so massive in just sixteen years?)

  Summer nudged me and mouthed, ‘What the …?’ But I was already shaking my head.

  Chook leaned back, resting his elbows on the step behind him. ‘Anyway, I know why you’re here.’ He looked at me and raised his eyebrows three times.

  Bleugh! Someone save me.

  ‘You’ve got the hots for Jay Wilson,’ Chook said proudly.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Don’t
be embarrassed!’ laughed Chook. He seemed almost serious for once. ‘It’s great! I wish a chick would take up basketball to impress me. Even an unco one like you.’

  ‘What?’ Ball in the boob . . . Tripping and dribbling . . . Totally, utterly hopeless at basketball . . . The flush of anger sparked and flared in my chest. I felt naked again. Betrayed.

  ‘Has Jay been telling you all that stuff?’

  Chook nodded and wiped a drop of sweat from the side of his face. ‘Guess we’ll be seeing a lot of you, eh?’ he said.

  I sat straight in the plastic chair, grinding my teeth. How could Jay laugh about me behind my back? How could he be so two-faced? It was his stupid fault I was playing basketball in the first place.

  Summer leaned forward. ‘Hey, Chook, what’s your coach’s name?’

  ‘Brett,’ said Chook. ‘Why?’

  ‘No reason.’ Summer leaned back out of sight again, but I could feel her clutching my arm, squeezing slowly.

  At least now I knew where I stood. No wonder Jay couldn’t see what dancing meant to me. When he saw me dancing on the court, he only saw the things he hated about the world: the fakes and the bimbos, the pretty people with phoney smiles.

  Jay wasn’t my friend. He thought I was dumb and unco and was just using me to get a laugh out of his mates.

  I caught a sob of disappointment in my throat, then took a big breath and sat tall – a warrior princess. I couldn’t let Jay get away with this. I had to fight back. And I knew exactly how.

  ‘Hey, Chook?’ I smiled, suddenly glad he was hanging around like a bad smell. ‘Does Jay have any injuries? You know, that affect his basketball?’

  ‘Nah.’ Chook waved at someone on the court and stood up. ‘Nothing except his back. He’s always got trouble with that.’

  ‘Thanks, Chook.’ I leaned back in my seat, eyes focussed on the enemy. I could feel my heart beating stronger and faster, building power for what I was about to do. It was time for the next prank – an atomic bomb to end this terrible war.

  ‘Yoohoo, Coach Brett!’ It was quite a sight – Summer, the seductress, in full pout. We’d waited until Brett ducked out to use the bathroom and had cornered him in the foyer. For a moment, he drank her in.

  ‘Hi!’ Summer flicked back her hair and smiled. ‘I’m Summer. And this is Saph.’

  Brett glanced at me and nodded as if he knew who I was. Then he turned back to Summer.

  ‘What can I do for you?’ said Brett, shoulders square, hands on hips. (Why are the coach types always so straight and serious?)

  ‘We’re friends of Jay Wilson,’ continued Summer. There was a soft sparkliness in her voice. ‘We’re worried about Jay,’ she went on, with a nurse-like shake of the head.

  ‘Really. Why’s that?’ Brett was watching Summer carefully, like a sponge absorbing spilled lemonade.

  ‘Well,’ she flicked her hair and looked up at the coach, ‘his back’s really bad at the moment. But he doesn’t want to let the team down.’

  Brett didn’t seem especially worried about this. He raised his eyebrows like a shrug.

  ‘We’re worried he might make it worse if he plays,’ she went on.

  ‘Jay’s a good kid. I trust his judgement.’ Brett still hadn’t taken his eyes off Summer.

  I stepped forward, calm and ready to break Summer’s magic spell. ‘It’s the painkillers that we’re worried about.’

  ‘Painkillers?’ Brett’s arms dropped to his sides and he gaped at me. ‘What kind of painkillers?’

  ‘I think there was a Q in the name,’ I said vaguely. Then I mustered up the concerned frown of the century. ‘Can they mask a, you know, serious injury?’

  Brett didn’t answer. He was rubbing his chin, looking towards the open door to the court. Then he glanced at me again. ‘You’re sure about this?’

  I held Brett’s gaze. ‘Jay and I are like this, you know?’ I said, holding up two crossed fingers. ‘He tells me things that he wouldn’t tell anyone else. I’m just . . . really worried …’ I trailed off and lifted one hand to cover my mouth. (Maybe I should quit dancing after all, and take up acting.)

  For a clear second Brett peered at me, his eyes darting across my face as if searching for an answer. Then he muttered something under his breath, nodded and headed back into the stadium.

  ‘This should be good,’ said Summer once Brett was gone. She giggled and nudged me with her hip.

  I nodded, still with one hand over my mouth. Even better than I thought it would. Was Brett really falling for this?

  We crept after Brett, spying on the team from behind a pillar just inside the door. As soon as Brett spoke to him, Jay shook his head firmly.

  Brett wasn’t any taller than Jay, but he was broader, with the power of a grown man. He stood, chest bold, head strong, arm pointing straight to the sidelines.

  ‘I can’t watch,’ I said, hiding behind Summer and then staring over her shoulder to take it all in.

  Now I could hear Jay’s voice rising in anger, still shaking his head, hands in raised fists. No, no, no . . . Don’t put me on the sideline! Don’t kick me off . . .

  Brett replied, still standing strong. I couldn’t hear what he said, but there was no doubt what it meant.

  Behind Summer I squashed my lips together, feeling an anxious kind of thrill inside. I’m really getting him back this time . . .

  Jay’s shoulders slumped. He shook his head in disbelief. With eyes down, he turned and slowly walked off the court.

  ‘Come on.’ I swallowed the dryness in my throat and pulled at Summer’s arm. Suddenly I had to get out.

  ‘That was too easy!’ giggled Summer as we sneaked out the doors and down the steps. ‘Did you see the look on his face?’

  I nodded, then shook my head. ‘I can’t believe it worked!’

  ‘You’re hot girl! Ten points to Saph!’ Summer licked her finger and went tsss in the air. Then she frowned and brushed my cheek with her hand. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yeah.’ But I couldn’t say any more. My mouth was dry. In my mind, all I could see was Jay: eyes down, head shaking. Please don’t let this be happening.

  It reminded me of how I had felt last night.

  I went home feeling slow and empty inside. Mum was making sushi rolls in the kitchen.

  ‘Saph!’ A frown flashed across her face, but it disappeared as I sat down. ‘Lesley called. There’s no cheerleading on Monday night. And she wants you to call her back.’

  ‘Oh.’ I rested my head on my folded arm. That didn’t sound good. ‘Did she say anything else?’ Like, by the way, Saph’s been kicked off the troupe?

  Mum raised her eyebrows at the sushi rice. ‘She asked how you were doing.’

  I shut my eyes.

  ‘She’s worried, Saph.’

  In my mind I went through the opening routine from last night, trying to see it through Lesley’s eyes. I could hear the tiny ting and shhhhhh as Mum’s spoon slid against the bowl. For a while we were quiet.

  ‘I stuffed up, Mum. I stuffed up a really big dance, in front of important people.’ It was hard even saying it.

  The spoon sounds went quiet. I sat up and crossed my legs on the chair as if it were the floor. ‘I messed it up for everyone.’ My chest felt tight, but at least I wasn’t crying.

  Mum put her hand on my arm – a sympathetic scrunch of her lips, a softness in her eyes. ‘I’m sure it felt worse than it looked.’

  I shook my head, biting my lip at my crossed ankles. Face first into the floor? That would have looked pretty bad.

  ‘I think . . . maybe . . . Lesley’s going to kick me out. My wobble . . . she will never forgive that.’ The words caught in my throat as I thought back to Lesley’s warning the first time we practised our Madonna solos. Soon I glanced up at Mum. ‘Dancing professionally, it’s hard, you know?’

  Mum picked up her spoon and started stirring the sushi rice quickly, as if she had no time for my silly ideas. ‘I’m sure she’s not going to kick you out. Everyone makes mistakes.�
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  I uncrossed my legs and stole a piece of salmon. ‘Dad wants me to quit.’

  ‘No.’ Mum stopped working and stared into my eyes, long and clear. ‘No. He doesn’t.’ Then she pushed a bamboo mat in front of me.

  After that we worked in silence, scooping, rolling and slicing. I kept stealing tastes of rice and salmon, slowly filling the empty spaces inside.

  The rolls were almost finished when I heard the front door bang. ‘Where’s Dad been?’ I asked quickly, wondering if it was time for yet another fast exit. Saph, the invisible girl.

  ‘Shopping,’ said Mum and gave me a look that said don’t even think of leaving.

  Dad lifted the bags onto the bench with a rustling clunk, then he kissed Mum on the lips and me on the forehead – business as usual. We said nothing, hearing only the noise of the fridge door and crinkling packets as everything was put away.

  ‘Lemonade!’ I said, pulling a bottle from the last shopping bag. We never have lemonade.

  ‘That can stay out,’ said Dad. Then he disappeared into the lounge room and came back with three spirit glasses and his bottle of ouzo.

  I opened my mouth: What’s going on? But Dad just jerked his head at a chair for me to sit down. His eyes were warm, like dark chocolate.

  Mum sat at a corner near me and started pouring red cordial into two of the glasses. Next went lemonade. And lastly – roll me over and call me a bimbo – big slurps of ouzo.

  ‘What!’ I laughed when Mum placed a bubbling red glass in front of me.

  Dad’s glass had just ouzo and water, like always. ‘I remember my first taste of ouzo,’ he said, smiling and sipping his drink.

  Okay then, here we are, sitting on Mars. I sipped at my drink, pretending this was my first drink of alcohol, even though it wasn’t. It tasted sweet and tickly with the sharp bite of liquorice. (Try this kind of black jellybean, Summer!) It warmed my throat and trickled into my last empty spaces inside.

  ‘My parents were out. And Stavros was sick in bed,’ said Dad.