‘Love you!’ he jokes as I struggle to the surface, gasping for air.
And by the look on his face as he flicks me with water, I know he means it.
CHAPTER 6
One of the things I like best about being a dancer is that it’s choreographed. You know where you’re going at all times. Every moment has been workshopped to make it as perfect as possible.
Imagine what it would be like if real life was like that? If life was choreographed, you’d say the right thing in every situation. Everyone would be in sync all the time. I know it’s supposed to be that the fun is in the unexpected but, seriously, how good would it be if someone just gave you the steps?
You certainly wouldn’t make a hash of things all the time, like I seem to do. Miss Raine sprang Christian and me in the corridor today cuddling instead of hurrying off to class like everyone else. Mum and Dad sent me one of their famous ‘Webster care packages’, which included a beanie Dad had knitted for Christian out of his favourite sheep’s wool. He looked so cute in it I just had to kiss him.
Then, instead of just going off to class, I had to make things even worse by making up a story about how what we were really doing was discussing the piece we’re putting together for our choreography assessment. Which totally backfired because then Miss Raine insisted on seeing the video I made of it. Which is how we ended up in her office watching take after take of Christian and me fooling around pashing in the park while I tried to find the part that showed us actually rehearsing our assessment piece.
So now we’re both on her watch list. She even brought up the fact that we were both ‘scholarship students’ and were wasting our benefactors’ money.
I guess I’m going to have to be more careful and spend more time on training and less time with Christian for the next little while. I can’t lose my scholarship. I just can’t.
I’m trying to pay attention to the instructions Saskia is firing at us – plié, pirouette, balance, arms in fifth – but it’s hopeless. Christian is being too distracting, waving his arms in my face as we hold fifth position and mimicking the serious look on my face as I struggle to concentrate. I can feel Saskia’s eyes on me.
‘Tara’s out of time,’ she says as my group dances past her. ‘And now Tara’s missed a step. Please can someone else mess up so I can stop picking on her?’
Behind her, Christian pulls a face, trying to make me laugh.
‘Stop it!’ I mouth back at him.
Somehow, I just don’t feel like laughing right now.
Christian bails me up after class.
‘Miss Raine’s really got you freaked, hasn’t she?’
‘No.’
Christian raises an eyebrow.
‘Okay, yes,’ I correct myself. ‘We have been distracting each other and neither of us can afford to lose our scholarships.’
Christian shrugs. ‘That’s not going to happen.’
‘Exactly,’ I agree. ‘Priority one is this choreography assessment. Then the exams. After that we’ll just pick up where we left off.’
Christian’s forehead wrinkles. ‘Where was that again?’
‘Miss Raine’s right,’ I say, the whole situation suddenly perfectly clear in my head. ‘Relationships can wait. All we’re doing is just hitting “pause” for a bit.’
‘Right,’ Christian says.
I knew he’d be fine with it. I lean forward to give him a quick goodbye kiss. ‘See you at lunch!’
I can’t believe Christian sometimes. How dare he stand me up! When I asked him to come to the park so we could practise our piece, he refused. He reckons we’re not partners any more, and that I distract him. Me! He’s the one who was doing all the distracting in class this morning. So now I’m going to have to revamp our whole choreography piece from a duo into a solo.
I set up the video camera near my favourite tree, so I can work on my angles. I’m finally making some progress when I spot Kat and Sammy heading my way. I rush over to them, determined to release some of the hot air building up inside me.
‘Christian is so infuriating,’ I begin, then stop when I see what Sammy’s wearing. The beanie I gave Christian this morning. The beanie my dad knitted him with his own hands, with wool from his favourite sheep.
‘What are you doing with this?’ I snap, snatching the beanie off Sammy’s head.
Sammy looks nervous. ‘Christian gave it to me.’
What? ‘I just … don’t get it. I don’t get him,’ I stammer, completely flustered.
‘Whoa. Deep breath, T,’ Kat tells me.
‘He said you “paused” him,’ Sammy tells me.
Kat stares at me. ‘You actually used the word “pause”? That’s like the precursor for “you’re dumped”.’
‘But that’s not what I meant,’ I say, worried now.
‘Yeah, but that’s what Christian heard,’ Sammy says. ‘He’s a snow dome.’
‘A what?’ Kat asks.
‘Well, actually he’s the snowman inside the snow dome,’ Sammy explains. ‘All he’s had his whole life are snow storms.’ He counts off events on his fingers. ‘His mum dying. His dad taking off.’
My gut twists. ‘But what does that have to do with focusing on our exams?’
‘For the first time he gets to drop his guard,’ Sammy says. ‘And what happens? BAM! It’s blizzard central all over again.’
Oh, no, I think. What have I done …
I cautiously open the door to Christian’s bedroom, calling his name as I enter. But the room is empty.
Maybe he’ll be back soon. I move over to the photo board beside his bed, tracing my finger over some of the images. There’s us together on the farm, Christian cuddling our latest joey. And there’s us with Sammy and Kat, clowning around.
And then I see something new. A photo of a young woman and a toddler. It has to be Christian and his mum. As I move closer for a better look, I notice one side of the photograph has been folded back. I take it down and reveal the missing half. It shows a smiling man, his arm around his wife and baby son. The words ‘Trish, Christian and Raf’ are printed on the back. This must be Christian’s dad.
I freeze as the door handle turns. Christian’s back! I hastily replace the photo, then turn around, hoping he won’t notice my guilty face.
‘Hey,’ I venture.
‘Hi,’ Christian answers.
‘So,’ I begin quietly, casting around for the right words. ‘I need a take back, because the last thing I want is to be on pause with you.’
‘Yeah?’ Christian says, turning his back on me. ‘You seemed pretty sure before.’
I follow him across the room, anxious to put things right. ‘Sometimes, I think I’m on fast forward. I think and think and instead of things getting clearer, they go all blurry …’
Christian turns to face me again. ‘You should see someone about that.’
He’s probably right. I hate this. It’s all so serious.
‘Can we … can we please hit play again? Because without you, my disc keeps skipping, keeps skipping, skipping, skipping, skipping …’ I add, moving my arms robotically in an attempt to lighten things up.
Christian snorts, then grins. My plan has worked. ‘So, do you want to hang out for a bit?’
‘Yep,’ I say, relieved.
Christian flops down on the bed with his guitar and I cosy up beside him. It should be enough, just being together, not analysing everything all the time. But I can’t stop thinking about the picture of his family on the wall behind him.
‘I like your new decorating,’ I say, pointing at the photo. ‘So cute. You two look alike.’
Christian glances behind him. ‘We were alike,’ he says, shrugging, then returns to his guitar.
‘And your dad?’ I ask carefully.
Christian’s eyes darken. ‘Let’s hope not.’
‘You must think about him though?’
Christian puts his guitar down. ‘He hung around long enough to change a couple of nappies, and then he lost
interest.’
‘But do you think if he’d stuck around you wouldn’t have these rejection issues?’
There. I’ve said it. I hold my breath, waiting for his response.
‘Rejection issues?’
I push on relentlessly. ‘I said “pause” and you heard “stop”.’ I move a little closer, eager to let him know I’m up for helping him through his personal crisis. ‘We could talk about that if you want?’
‘I think we should flick to a new channel,’ Christian mutters, picking up his guitar again.
Christian may act like he doesn’t want to talk about his dad situation, but I know that deep down he really does. I’ve just got to find the right way to make it happen …
Sammy can’t believe what I’ve just told him.
‘You’re cyber stalking Christian’s dad?’
‘Ssshhh!’ I say. Christian’s only a few metres away, teaching some of the other second years the steps for the flash mob Ben’s organising for this afternoon.
‘You were so right yesterday,’ I whisper. ‘All of Christian’s issues go back to his dad leaving. So now I know his name I googled him. If Christian could meet him, find out why –’
Sammy taps my shoulder to make his point. ‘Hey. All this amateur psychology. Stop now, okay?’
I stare at him, amazed he’s reacting this way. ‘Sammy, you of all people should know how much it would help to have some family support around.’
Sammy shakes his head. ‘But my family issues are for me to work out. No one else. T, promise me you’re going to drop it, okay?’
But no way can I stop now. I can’t wait to see the look on Christian’s face when he finds out I’ve tracked down his dad!
Christian and I slip away from the post flash-mob party to a quiet bench away from the action. He slips his arm around my shoulders, pulling me towards him. ‘I like not fighting with you.’
I grin, relieved to know the awkward scene from this morning is long behind us.
‘If I do something that annoys you then you should tell me.’
Christian laughs.
‘No, I mean it! And you shouldn’t keep stuff bottled up either.’
‘Full disclosure, eh? It could work.’
I take a deep breath. Now’s definitely the right time to launch my plan.
‘In that case, there’s something I need to tell you.’
I fill Christian in on everything that’s happened since I found the photo of his dad in his room. How I typed his name into a search engine, and came up with a result. And how I’d be totally prepared to come with him once he’d made contact …
It’s a good thing I’ve done, isn’t it? So why is he suddenly storming away down the hill? I run after him.
‘Christian?’
Christian shrugs me off. ‘Go away, Tara. I don’t want to say something I’ll regret.’
‘But what about what you said? Full disclosure?’
Christian wheels round, his face livid. ‘You think you’re the only one who can google someone? I know where my dad is. I choose not to have anything to do with him.’
‘But why?’ I ask, flustered. ‘What if meeting him fixed things?’
‘You mean fixed me,’ Christian snarls, throwing up his arms. ‘Why are you always wanting me to change?’
‘I’m sorry,’ I back down, my voice small. ‘I just want you to be happy.’
But Christian hasn’t finished his rant yet. ‘No, you want me to be different. The pie chart! Constant pressure about my commitment! Seems I can’t do anything right.’
I stare at him, hurt beyond words.
‘I don’t need your help, Tara,’ Christian flings at me. ‘I’m totally fine without you.’
Then he’s gone.
Later, Miss Raine sets up a TV set so we can all watch our choreography assessments on screen. Ben and Sammy’s flash mob is great. Even Grace and Abigail are working well together. My piece is the only one that looks kind of sad and washed out, now that I’ve lost Christian as my partner.
When ballets are choreographed, there’s a rehearsal period, and everyone knows which part they’re supposed to play. But real life’s not like that. Just because you want someone to behave in a certain way, or feel a certain emotion, doesn’t mean they will. And if you try too hard to make them do what you want, you might be left with nothing – and dancing on your own.
CHAPTER 7
Margot Fonteyn’s most famous partner was Rudolf Nureyev. When they first met she was forty-three and the star of the English ballet world. He was a twenty-four-year-old nobody from Russia. On the surface they had nothing in common, but when they danced together it was like they had one body. One soul.
Ballet hasn’t changed much since then. Every day we do the same exercises. And once every semester, the teachers examine us, hunting for flaws.
But the magic Fonteyn and Nureyev had can’t be assessed in a classroom. It was this wordless understanding that bound two people together. And once it existed, it could never be broken.
I glance across the studio at Ben, my dance partner since Christian deserted me. Ben’s good, but we’re never going to have that special connection that Christian and I share. Correction. Shared.
And now that we’re in the middle of exams, I need that connection more than ever to help me get through. Not that Ben isn’t trying to get one happening. He thinks we should treat teamwork in ballet the same way rugby players do, by watching each other’s back.
Or something like that. I’m too busy trying to catch Christian’s eye as he comes out of the studio to take in what Ben’s saying properly. Plus I’m stressing about how we’re going to go in our contemporary pas de deux exam tomorrow. Which is why I make an arrangement with Saskia to check over our performance for later in the day. The way I’m feeling at the moment, I’m going to need every little bit of help to get through.
The music finishes and Ben and I pull apart from our final position. I’m exhausted, but exhilarated. I think we’ve done pretty well.
I straighten up, ready for Saskia’s critique. ‘Be brutal,’ I pant, my whole body shaking from the effort of the punishing choreography. ‘We can take it.’
‘No,’ Saskia says brightly, ‘it’s promising. Ben, that really had a lot of presence.’
‘I have presence,’ Ben gloats to me.
‘Which was needed,’ Saskia goes on, ‘because Tara … Yikes.’
Yikes? I danced my heart out and all she can say is yikes?
‘I’m sorry, sweetie,’ Saskia tells me. ‘I know that’s not what you want to hear right now.’
And then she goes on and on with some meaningless stuff about how I should just keep on working, and the breakthrough will come. Nothing specific I can actually take away and use. Oh, well, guess I’ll just have to suck it up, I think, flicking the music back on as I move once more to the centre of the studio.
I sit up in bed, dialling Christian’s number over and over. No answer. Why won’t he pick up?
I need a partner to help me rehearse for tomorrow’s exam. Ben’s given up on me and gone to bed. So much for all his rugby talk about watching my back. Before he left he made a crack about Saskia and how she obviously doesn’t like me. How she gets all twitchy around me. But of course she likes me. She’s my mentor, isn’t she? Sure she pushes me in class, but it’s because she believes in me, nothing else. Right?
I check my message bank. Maybe Christian called me back while I was calling him?
‘You have no new messages,’ the recorded voice says.
I roll over and thump my pillow. Beside me, Abigail slips off her eye mask.
‘Move one more time and you’ll be sleeping in the laundry,’ she warns me.
‘I just have to send this,’ I say, beginning a text message. The next thing I know Abigail’s got my phone off me and it’s lying in pieces on the floor. Nooo! Now I’ll never get through to him.
‘I need someone to help me practise,’ I whine. ‘Christian used to be my partne
r. He’s the logical choice.’
‘He’s your ex, not your phone-a-friend,’ Abigail reminds me.
‘He’s not my ex,’ I point out. ‘This is only a temporary situation. But you’re right, I’m not going to call him.’ I climb out of bed and grab my ugg boots. ‘I’m going over.’
Seconds later I’m banging on Christian’s door.
‘Hi,’ Sammy welcomes me. ‘You’re up late. Last minute cramming?’
‘No, I was worried,’ I say, pushing past him. ‘That’s what happens when you leave someone sixteen messages and they don’t respond to any of them.’
Christian shrugs. ‘Well, I’m fine.’
‘Obviously,’ I say. ‘I’m the one who’s stuck with a pas de deux partner who doesn’t believe in practice. And when I call to ask for help …’
Christian glances up from his guitar-playing. ‘My phone must have been flat. Sorry.’
‘I can help you practise,’ Sammy offers.
‘See?’ Christian says. ‘Problem solved.’
It doesn’t solve the real problem. The one I came here to fix. But Christian obviously isn’t interested in helping me. In fact, he doesn’t seem interested in anything except his guitar. I ramble on for a bit about making sure he doesn’t let the battery on his phone run low. Then, with as much dignity as I can muster, I leave.
The next morning I’ve calmed down enough to feel like I can take my exam without imploding. An early morning beach rehearsal and pep talk from Ben help heaps. Maybe I should just try to be more ‘zen’ all the time, like he is.
Abigail on the other hand is dripping venom. Christian hasn’t shown up for their exam piece, and she’s blaming me and our ‘relationship dramas’, accusing me of sabotaging her.
But then I start to worry. If Christian’s a no show, he’ll fail the exam. And maybe Abigail’s right. Maybe it is all my fault he hasn’t turned up.
Fortunately only the casing of my phone got broken last night, not the whole thing. A little bit of tape to hold it in place and it’s working perfectly again. I fish it out of my pocket and try Christian’s number one more time.
Tara: Everything to Lose Page 4