Christian looks me over, his eyes full of concern. ‘How long have you been here?’
I shrug. ‘A while.’ I start to move back to the centre of the studio, anxious to resume practice.
‘Look,’ Christian begins carefully, ‘I know you want to impress Saskia, but …’
I turn, annoyed. ‘Great. You think that I’m sucking up, too?’
‘I don’t care if you are.’
‘I just want her to think I’m good,’ I sigh.
‘You are good.’
I pull a face. ‘Well, maybe I was – last year. But Abigail just keeps getting better and better, and Grace … Grace is extraordinary.’
Christian’s voice softens. ‘How about working on something a little less full on. Something you can get right by tomorrow.’
I stare at him, hurt. ‘So you don’t think I’m up to it.’
Christian shrugs. ‘No – I just think – it’s tomorrow.’
‘Exactly,’ I point out, angry now. ‘So either stay and give me feedback or go and let me practise!’
Then I stomp back into the middle of the studio, ready for another punishing set of pirouettes.
The next morning I arrive at class early, eager to show Saskia the solo I spent most of last night perfecting. Christian was wrong, it’s not too hard for me at all. I can do it. I know I can.
Saskia waits for the rest of the class to arrive, then calls us all together.
‘So who wants to impress me by going first?’
Should I put my hand up? I’m just about to when I change my mind, nerves getting the better of me. When nobody volunteers Saskia picks people at random.
One by one they perform their solos. Grace nails the Lilac Fairy from Sleeping Beauty, even though I know she barely rehearsed it. It’s so not fair that everything comes so easily for her. Sammy has everyone in stitches with his Ugly Step-Sister solo from Cinderella. Abigail’s the only one who still hasn’t prepared anything, claiming she needs more time. I know she’s working on something with Ethan, but she’s being really secretive about it.
Finally it’s my turn. I pop my CD into the deck and move to the centre of the studio, hastily removing my leg-warmers before the music starts.
Saskia’s eyes travel down to the red ballet shoes on my feet, then back to my face. I push down the knot forming in my stomach and will myself to dance well.
‘I’m going to be dancing Victoria from The Red Shoes,’ I announce.
‘Well, that’s one I’m definitely familiar with,’ Saskia says, sounding surprised. ‘Can’t wait to see what you’ve done with it.’
The music begins and I float across the studio floor. As I dance I imagine myself on a real stage, dazzled by the spotlight, the sound of the audience’s applause in my ears. I push myself through the punishing moves – higher, deeper, faster.
The music finally stops. I pull myself up from my position on the floor, to the sound of clapping from the rest of the class. Christian is grinning proudly. Even Abigail and Grace look impressed.
I stand in front of Saskia, struggling to regain my breath, waiting for her verdict.
‘Wow, Tara,’ Saskia finally says. ‘That was kind of …’ She stops, as though struggling to find the right words. ‘That was really kind of a mess, wasn’t it?’
Is she joking? I think, the room suddenly spinning.
It appears not. ‘Look,’ she goes on, obviously fighting back the urge to laugh, ‘full marks for attempting something so demanding. But … wow … I think I’ll need a moment to shake that one out of my head.’
Is it my imagination or does everyone else look as shocked as I feel? Christian sends me a look filled with sympathy. But it’s not sympathy I need right now. It’s …
Fighting back tears, I thank Saskia for her critique, then step back into line. How, even in my wildest dreams, could I have thought I could dance well enough to take on something like The Red Shoes?
‘Hey.’ Christian’s voice is warm in my ear.
I struggle with the key to my locker. Why won’t the stupid thing open?
‘You were right,’ I sigh. ‘I should have listened.’
Christian takes the key from me. ‘No, I was wrong – and so was Saskia. You were incredible.’
I turn to face him, drained. ‘I really thought The Red Shoes would suit me. But I guess I should start working on another solo. Something simpler.’
‘It did suit you,’ Christian consoles me. ‘And just because Saskia’s your idol, doesn’t make her right.’
If only that were true.
Later that night, Saskia drops in on me in the studio on her way home. ‘Still here?’ she asks, surprised to see me.
I blink back tears, not wanting her to see how hopeless I feel. ‘Just thinking about my solo,’ I tell her.
Saskia draws me into a hug. ‘Sweetie, I’m sorry you’re upset.’
I pull back. A hug’s not what I need right now. ‘You said what you felt,’ I point out to her. ‘You’re the teacher. You should know …’
Shouldn’t she?
‘I understand why you wanted to tackle something as demanding as The Red Shoes,’ Saskia tells me. ‘But you just don’t have the depth or the life experience yet to pull off the big emotional roles.’
I nod, attempting a watery smile. Maybe she’s right.
Saskia smiles. ‘You’ve got potential – that’s obvious. Just don’t let anybody see you attempt that piece again.’
After our goodbyes I return to the mirror to practise another solo, my red pointe shoes abandoned in the corner. As I work my way through the new sequence of steps, I think about the day’s events. Saskia Duncan became a soloist at nineteen and a legend in the ballet world. I’d give anything to be her.
But the thing is, I’m not. I’m me. And if I try too hard to copy her path I might miss my own. Because although you can be inspired by the people in the posters you hang on your walls, they’re not the ones who are there when you actually need them, to help you through.
There’s a soft clatter behind me and I’m suddenly aware that Christian has crept into the studio. Our eyes meet in the mirror – and then, my resolve strengthened by the support I see in his – once more I’m dancing.
CHAPTER 5
I’m walking hand-in-hand with Christian along the wharf, soaking up the morning sun after class, when it hits me. I’m in love. Not just any old kind of love either. Top of the rollercoaster, full on, hopeless, unequivocal love.
I never had a crush on Christian. He kind of snuck up on me and then didn’t go away. Sort of like permanent marker. Even if I was to rub it off, the trace would still be there, like he’s a part of who I am now.
Now that I’ve realised I love Christian, I want to tell him. Right now. Maybe he feels exactly the same way.
‘Christian?’
‘Yeah?’
‘What are you thinking about?’
‘Chicken.’
Chicken? Why isn’t he thinking about me? Come on, I tell myself. Just do it. Be brave.
‘I love …’ I begin, then wimp out. ‘I love those sneakers.’
Christian stares at me. ‘The ones I’ve been wearing for over a year?’
‘They’re really growing on me,’ I laugh, though inside I’m fuming. Why couldn’t I just come out and say it? It’s only three words. I take a deep breath and try again.
‘Christian? I …’
‘Kaylah!’
‘Cheddar!’
I watch as Christian pulls a girl in a black beanie into a hug.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asks her.
‘Looking for you. I’ve put together a crew for Showcase.’
‘Oh, cool!’ I butt in. Christian might at least have introduced me. I am his girlfriend after all. ‘Some of our friends are entering that.’
‘I’m freaking out, Cheds,’ Kaylah goes on, ignoring me completely. ‘Me, in a national dance competition? Everyone else will be totally professional.’
I stan
d to one side, fretting, while Kaylah tries to convince Christian to join her crew for the competition. She keeps calling him Cheds. How come I’ve never heard him use that name before? What else don’t I know about him?
Finally, Christian agrees to help her out.
Kaylah slaps his hand. ‘Cheds? I owe you – and I love you!’
Kaylah loves him? How come it’s so easy for her to say?
I wait till she’s gone, then turn to Christian, my gut twisting with jealousy.
‘What?’ Christian asks when he sees my face.
I shrug. ‘She loves you … and she didn’t say one word to me.’
Christian shakes his head, puzzled. ‘She doesn’t know you. You guys haven’t spent any time together.’
Then he bounds up the steps into school.
This whole ‘love’ thing is pretty hard to work out. When the ballet Sleeping Beauty begins, Aurora is celebrating her sixteenth birthday. That’s the same age as me. By the time the curtain falls, she’s fallen in love with a prince, been bewitched by an evil fairy and been woken by the prince’s kiss. That’s a pretty full on day by anyone’s standards.
Aurora’s life is like the perfect crush fantasy that goes from first glance to eternal love in the space of ninety minutes. By the end, everything’s so perfect there’s nothing left to do but gaze into each other’s eyes.
It took a bit longer than ninety minutes for Christian and me to fall in love. But I can’t help wondering if our love story is going to be as perfect as Aurora’s.
‘Earth to Tara,’ says Kat, breaking me out of my reverie.
I flush. ‘Sorry,’ I say, looking guiltily at my friends. ‘Did I miss something?’
‘Only Sammy moaning about how tired he is,’ Kat tells me.
At least I think that’s what she said. I’m too busy watching Christian gliding up the pier towards me on his skateboard. Christian – the guy who told me he loved me after I stopped stressing about his past with Kaylah, and danced with her crew at Showcase. I’m not sure who was more shocked when the words came out – him or me! It’s such a relief to finally know he feels the same way I do.
Christian flips the board up into his hand and leans forward for a kiss. Then he heads off to class with Sammy.
I lean back blissfully for a moment, then spin around. ‘Love you!’ I call after him, stopping him in his tracks.
Abigail and Grace, chatting cosily at the next table, look up and giggle. Oops. What have I done?
Christian flashes me an awkward grin. ‘Aaah, yeah. Back at you …’
I’ve totally embarrassed him.
‘It’s like watching a car crash,’ Abigail smirks. ‘Gruesome, yet utterly compelling.’
‘Hey,’ Grace jumps to my defence. ‘If I was batting that far out of my league I’d be singing it from the rooftops, too.’
I stare down at my half-finished food, worried now. Grace thinks Christian’s out of my league? Does everyone else think that, too? Maybe it’s whatever comes after the ‘happily ever after’ that’s the real challenge.
Later, in class, Sammy and Abigail continue to give me a hard time about my public declaration of love. Christian reckons he’s fine with it, but I suspect he’s just saying that so I won’t get upset.
Then, just when I think things can’t get any worse, Saskia chooses Grace to partner Christian for the photo for the Academy brochure. Grace, who’s only been here five minutes. It should have been me. Saskia keeps going on about how great they look together. The ‘perfect couple’.
I watch despondently as Christian holds Grace in position for the photographer. She’s so slim and petite with her perfect ballerina body. Then I check out my own reflection in the mirror. Hips and thighs city. How am I ever supposed to match up?
I flop down beside Christian at our special place above the harbour, trying to push down the pangs of hunger as I watch him shovel Thai takeaway into his mouth. Coconut milk is so fattening.
‘Grace is really pretty, isn’t she?’ I say, fishing for compliments.
Christian shrugs. ‘She’s all right.’
‘She has really good bones …’
Christian slurps up a forkful of noodles. ‘She’s too skinny for me.’
‘I guess I’m not too skinny for you,’ I say, trying to sound casual.
‘Nope.’
‘I guess I’m other things …’
But he won’t take the hint.
‘Yeah, you’re kind of odd and chirpy.’
‘Chirpy?’ I blurt, worried now. ‘That’s what you love about me? That I’m odd and chirpy?’
Christian gives me a weird look, then shovels in another mouthful of food. ‘Aren’t you hungry?’
Starving! I feel like shouting. But I can’t eat anything. Not with hips like these.
Christian puts down the remains of his lunch and picks up his text-books. ‘Right, well I need to finish my anatomy homework. Now.’
‘There’s nothing else you might want to say to me?’ I hint.
Christian holds out the plastic container. ‘Sure. Chuck that in the bin for me, could you?’
It’s obvious. It’s my gigantic thighs that are holding me back. As soon as I get back to the Academy I head for the gym and fire up the treadmill. By the time I’ve finished, ‘odd and chirpy’ will have become ‘slim and pretty’ and Christian won’t be able to resist me.
‘The problem,’ I tell Kat, as I stand in my bikini, checking out my bum in her mirror, ‘is that I’m only a C plus. Physically, I mean. Christian’s an A or an A plus but I’m only a C.’
I move a little closer to the mirror so I can inspect my chin. ‘Probably a C minus on a bad skin day.’
Kat hands me the bottle of spray tan she’s using to make herself look more like a cheerleader type for her next dance audition. It was all the new guy Ben’s idea. As soon as I found out it has a ‘slimming effect’ I insisted she let me have some too.
‘It says hold the bottle five centimetres from the skin,’ Kat tells me, reading the label.
‘Do you think Christian knows he could do better than me?’ I ask, covering my neck with tanning spray. ‘Because I’m not pretty enough for him?’
‘I think you need to spray that thing further away,’ Kat warns me.
‘I would give anything to look like you,’ I sigh. ‘Or Grace. There is just so much wrong with me.’
Kat rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, like you don’t have a great boyfriend, you’ve got no idea what you want to do with your life and you’re completely untalented. You mean those kind of things?’
Why can’t she see what I see? I think, blasting my cheeks.
‘Has it ever occurred to you maybe you don’t always need something to work on?’ Kat goes on, reaching for the bottle.
I push her hand away. ‘There’s always something that needs working on.’
The sun streams through the blinds, waking me from a dream-filled sleep. I push back my doona and check out my skin. Yes! It’s worked! I’m tanned!
Well, orange, actually. An Oompa Loompa face stares back me from the mirror. I should have listened to Kat …
Somehow I manage to make it through pas de deux class, even though most of the room is secretly laughing at me. How could I have been so stupid? Christian must think I’m a total loser. This time, I haven’t only embarrassed him, I’ve embarrassed myself.
As soon as class finishes I head for the bathroom and try to scrub off the orange tinge. I can’t get rid of it all, but at least I don’t look quite so freak show any more. I grab a favourite piece of music from my collection. Maybe dancing will help to shake me out of my mood.
The studio mirror reflects a girl with average looks, an average build and blotchy skin. I hate myself right now. No wonder I keep wanting to change how I look.
When I first started ballet I didn’t know my Achilles tendons were tight or that my back had a slight arch. Both negatives for dancers. After a while, you’re told so many things are wrong with you by this teache
r or that expert, all you see are the imperfections.
Aurora from Sleeping Beauty just needed a kiss to solve everything. But that was a fairy tale – I have to fix myself. I need to go back to the beginning and remember why I danced in the first place.
The music kicks in and I swoop across the studio floor, performing endless series of turns and pirouettes. I push myself harder and harder until there is only the sensation of the point of my foot connecting with the studio floor. Nothing else.
And then I remember what it is I love about dancing. It makes me feel beautiful.
Later, sitting on the beach at sunset with my friends, Christian appears. My heart skips a beat. Is he going to risk sitting down with the embarrassing freak show?
‘Walk with me, Training Bra,’ he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me up. We walk along the shoreline, skirting rocks and seagulls.
‘You know I think you’re pretty, right?’ he says eventually.
I stop. ‘Yeah, this tan really suits me,’ I laugh, trying to keep things light. ‘I think I might make it my new look.’
Christian raises an eyebrow.
‘I might have had a small freak out,’ I admit.
‘You were fine,’ Christian assures me. ‘And then your head just went all …’ He throws his hands in the air, mimicking a bomb exploding.
I laugh nervously, trying to search for the right words. ‘It’s like this contentment deficiency. Like, even if I’m happy I start picking at flaws, trying to find something to fix.’
Christian stares at me. ‘You can’t just be happy?’
‘Right now, I’m pretty good,’ I begin slowly, then break into a babble. ‘Except I’m really self-conscious about my toes – they should not be seen in public – and I should be putting in some extra training in the studio and …’
Realising I’m joking with him Christian picks me up, throws me over his shoulder then heads for the water.
‘Christian!’ I shriek. ‘Christian, you are not going to do this!’
But my squeals get me nowhere. Next thing I know Christian has dumped me in the harbour, fully clothed.
Tara: Everything to Lose Page 3