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Tara: Everything to Lose

Page 7

by Meredith Costain


  I gaze out over the rooftops, trying to see things clearly. And then finally, I come to a decision. I just hope it’s the right one.

  Back at the theatre, I slump down on the steps beside Ben. He’s fiddling with one of the walkie talkies Christian and he have been playing with all morning.

  ‘I’m telling the judges I’m pulling out,’ I announce softly.

  Ben stares at me. ‘What! Why?’ He flicks the on button on the walkie talkie. ‘Hang on a minute, I’ll call Christian. You need a second opinion.’

  I’m not sure I’m really up for a talk about my future in dance with Christian right now. But it’s not his voice that comes back through the speaker. It’s Kat’s. I grab the walkie talkie from Ben. I’ve never used one before. This is going to be fun!

  ‘It’s awesome for your ego to be around the girl who has a crush on you,’ Kat says, her voice crackling slightly. ‘But you also don’t want to cut off your options with Tara, either.’

  I stare at the speaker, my heart skittering against my ribs. Girl? Crush? Who is she talking about?

  ‘Are you done?’ This time it’s Christian speaking. ‘This “thing”? It isn’t one-sided.’

  Ben tries to snatch the walkie talkie out of my hand.

  ‘Leave it!’ I snap, moving it out of his reach. I don’t want to miss a word of this.

  ‘When I kissed you,’ Christian continues, ‘that’s something I wanted to do for a long time.’

  Sammy reaches down and flicks the off switch. Where did he come from? Seems like the whole world is here to witness my betrayal. ‘T, you can’t listen to that.’

  I’m such a fool. ‘You knew about this. And you didn’t tell me.’

  Sammy shakes his head, crushed. ‘It was only a gut feeling.’

  Mind spinning, I pull myself up from the steps. Then I head off to the dressing rooms. There’s something I have to do.

  By the time Kat finds me I’ve already changed into my white dress and am standing calmly on the side of the stage, waiting for my music to begin. Behind me, Grace fusses with my hair, ensuring I look my best for the judges.

  ‘T, I swear,’ Kat gabbles breathlessly, ‘nothing is ever going to happen.’

  ‘But you want it to,’ I say, my voice flat.

  ‘Please don’t dance,’ she begs me, grabbing my hands. ‘Tara, you being okay is so much more important than any of this.’

  I shake my head sadly. From now on, Kat and her fake offers of friendship are dead to me. ‘You say that, but it feels like you’re the one who just stabbed me in the back.’

  Then my name is called, and I step serenely out onto the stage, ready to perform my Red Shoes solo for the judges.

  Miss Raine’s eyes bore into me from the other side of her desk.

  ‘I’d like you to tell us what happened. When did you first notice something was wrong?’

  I glance at my father, who’s here to support me. He smiles at me encouragingly, giving me the strength to go on. But how can I put all the thoughts scrabbling round inside my head into words?

  ‘There have been a few times when I’m dancing,’ I begin, my voice sounding other-worldly and distant, ‘that I forget that I’m human. My feet could be bleeding right through my pointe shoes, and I don’t even notice. This … wasn’t like that. The anaesthetic must have worn off, because I could feel everything. And dancing wasn’t making it better. It was making it worse.’

  The walls move in and out of focus. I meet her eyes, hoping against hope that she might understand what I’ve been going through these past few weeks.

  ‘Thank you, Tara,’ Miss Raine says. ‘Unfortunately, it doesn’t change the fact that you lied about your injury. You were aware you were breaking the rules when you went to an outside doctor, and you did it anyway.’

  Dad squeezes my hand. I hang my head. I know what’s coming next.

  ‘I have no choice but to expel you from the Academy.’

  ‘Tara made a mistake,’ Dad cries, leaping to my defence. ‘She’s apologised! If you people hadn’t put so much pressure on her …’

  But it’s no use. Miss Raine’s right. I knew the rules. The whole thing was my fault, not the Academy’s.

  Besides, I’m too exhausted and too heartbroken to fight.

  Right now, all I want to do is go home.

  For all the latest Dance Academy news and info, head to: abc.net.au/abc3/danceacademy

  Read a sample from …

  Kat

  Breaking Pointe

  And finally the kombi is driving over the Harbour Bridge. Stretching above is an enormous, blue, cloudless sky, wiped clean for a new day. I rub the sleep out of my eyes. It’s been a long night on the road.

  Almost home, I message to Sammy. Meet you at the Academy of Pants in twenty minutes?

  Myles is sulking like a little kid as we pull into my street. (All right, I’m sulking too, but in a totally mature way.) As soon as he pulls to a stop, before he even has time to put the handbrake on, I leap out of the passenger seat and wrench open the side door of the kombi, grabbing my bag.

  ‘For the record,’ I snap, ‘playing your own music is egotistical, not ironic.’

  I slide the door shut and Myles drives off without a goodbye.

  I wish I had time to shower and brush out these stupid braids (so over the hippie chick thing), but I’ve got places to be. I go inside to dump my bag, but before I get far Natasha pounces.

  ‘Darling, look at you!’ she gushes.

  ‘Tash,’ I say. ‘Gotta dash.’

  She pouts, slipping into the part of Disappointed Mother. ‘But you only just got back.’

  No way, Tash, I think, shutting the front door behind me, you do not get to play the guilt card. How many times has she ‘just got back’ from months of touring only to go straight out to a cocktail party or a performance?

  I jog through the park, sleep-deprived, running on excited energy and the sugar hit from the entire packet of barley sugars I ate for breakfast.

  At the Academy, there are first years flocking nervously, poor deluded things. I refuse to be slightly jealous of how excited they are, how special and important they feel. Ballet hasn’t broken them yet. The second and third years are almost worse. They know what they’re in for, but they still have stars in their eyes.

  I spot Sammy and break into a sprint. Sammy hugs are awesome hugs. I feel energy coursing out of him into me, I take some of his strength, his solidness.

  He smells a bit whiffy though. Sort of detergenty and his hands are all wrinkly. ‘Don’t look at my dishpan hands,’ he says, hiding them behind his back. ‘I’m hideous.’

  ‘Still no joy from the olds?’

  ‘Dad had his joy surgically removed a long time ago.’ We walk along together. ‘I’m bored of my stuff. Tell me about your stuff.’

  ‘Ugh.’

  Sammy shakes his head. ‘He’s Myles Kelly. Who gets sick of those dulcet tones?’

  ‘Even you, Samuel, the fortieth time he complains about how no one takes him seriously. Even you.’

  I can tell Sammy doesn’t believe me. We’re interrupted by a gushing first year, bringing biscuits. She kisses Sammy’s cheek.

  ‘You’ve been well-occupied then?’ I say when she’s gone.

  ‘Kat, I’m a boarding house advisor. It’s my duty to welcome the new first-year students.’

  A familiar voice chimes in. ‘Is that what you call it?’

  It’s Tara and Christian. My heart beats twice as fast when I see Christian. But that’s old news. Old, bad news – my long-term longing, my secret crush. Straight away I notice Tara and Christian are holding hands. So they’re on again? I kind of guessed as much, reading between the lines of the text messages Tara and I have been exchanging. After a single breath, I choose to be happy for Tara. My friendship with her has always come before my totally pathetic crush on Christian. I leap at her and we hug. It’s so good to see her. I don’t want to let go.

  Tara’s excited, loving energy surges in
to me. I feel the most like my true self around these people.

  ‘So how long exactly did the “just friends” rule last?’ I tease when I finally release her.

  ‘Yeah,’ adds Sammy. ‘Who caved first?’

  Christian and Tara point sheepishly at each other. But then Tara is distracted by her other true love. Ballet. She looks up at the building. ‘Second year. Wow.’

  ‘Did anyone ever think we’d make it this far?’ Sammy asks.

  I scrunch up my face at him.

  ‘Oh, wow, Kat,’ Sammy flinches. ‘Sorry.’

  I let him off the hook. ‘It’s okay. My new holding cell’s just around the corner. It’ll be like old times.’ I smile, as if that’s what I really think. But it hurts to watch them walk through the Academy doors. The thing is, this time last year, this is what I thought I wanted, to find out who I was away from ballet. Freedom is a lot lonelier than I thought it would be.

  When I get home I take a long, hot shower and finally wash Myles Kelly out of my hair, using most of a bottle of Natasha’s expensive conditioner. I find my new school uniform laid out on the bed for me. ‘Try it on for size,’ says a note from Tash. ‘We can exchange it or get it altered before term starts.’

  I try it on. Maroon and grey. I look in the mirror and watch myself disappearing, becoming just another anonymous schoolgirl, the kind you see on trains and buses everywhere, in cities all over the world. I have been dancing in costumes since I was a toddler. When you put on the costume, you put on the character. Standing in front of the mirror, I feel like I’ve just been cast for a role I’m not even sure I want. But the character I’m playing is me. Kat Karamakov, played by herself.

  I leave the uniform lying on the floor, hoping it will at least acquire a wrinkle or two and go downstairs. I expect to open the fridge and find a single tub of fat-free yoghurt and a lettuce leaf. But my mother has actually been shopping. In a supermarket. Someone’s been messing with her core programming.

  Motherbot finds me raiding the kitchen.

  ‘Tash, what’s going on? Some of this stuff is actually edible.’

  ‘I thought we’d have a family dinner.’

  ‘No can do. I’ve organised a beach catch-up. But don’t worry, these little guys won’t go to waste.’ I grab a tray of steaks.

  ‘You can’t just waltz in and out when you feel like it. This isn’t a hotel.’

  ‘Where did you read that?’ I scoff. ‘Mummies for dummies?’

  ‘I gave you a lot of freedom this summer. And I didn’t say anything when you threw away your place at the Academy.’

  And there she is. The mother I know and love. ‘Don’t worry,’ I assure her. ‘The disappointment rang out loud and clear. We both know the only part of me you’ve ever been interested in is dancing.’

  ‘That’s unfair.’

  ‘Is it? Then why are you putting me straight into yet another boarding school? You can’t wait to be rid of me.’ I push past her.

  It was true, she had given me space over the summer. But I figured that was just because it fitted with her plans. Face it. Things are easier for Tash when I’m not around.

  I kind of went all out for our reunion party. Strings of paper lanterns on bamboo poles. Maybe I was trying just a little too hard, but I wanted to create the right atmosphere. Stage dressing. I push that thought away. Dancing, the theatre, that’s not who I am anymore.

  ‘You should see my new uniform,’ I say to Christian, who’s barbecuing the steaks. ‘I’m seriously thinking about shaving my head in protest.’

  ‘Don’t,’ Christian replies. ‘It suits you long.’

  I decide right there to leave it long, because I am pathetic. I turn to watch Abigail playing with a small child on the beach so Christian doesn’t notice the effect his words have on me. I wait for her to knock down the kid’s sandcastle but she maintains bizarre enthusiasm. Maybe she’s been drinking the same water as Natasha.

  ‘Is it me,’ says Christian, ‘or does anyone else feel like it’s going to be a –’

  ‘Strange year?’ I ask. ‘Yeah.’

  The sky begins to dim and I light the lanterns. Tara rocks up late, looking flustered, muttering something about Ethan – so some things don’t change at least. She keeps exchanging glances with Christian, and eventually they nick off together to go for a swim. I sit with Sammy.

  ‘There are three hundred girls in my year,’ I say. ‘I need to do something to make an impression.’

  ‘You’ll stand out Kat,’ Sammy assures me.

  But Sammy doesn’t get it. In Crazyballetworld, I’m a celebrity by association. There isn’t a friendship I can’t buy with front-row tickets to a preview performance at the Opera House. But I’ve never been to regular school before. None of them will have a clue about the Karamakov surname. And besides, ballet isn’t who I am anymore. And what if where ballet was, there’s just a big, empty, black hole? Girls don’t want to be friends with a hole, do they?

  Sammy watches me. ‘So what really happened with Myles?’

  I try to fob him off. ‘You get to know someone way too well when you’re stuck in a van.’

  Sammy isn’t fooled. ‘And?’

  ‘And … it was incredible. We did little mini trips to Byron. Swam with dolphins in Hastings.’

  Abigail’s voice drifts down. ‘That’d be so spiritually transcendent.’ Sammy and I turn to look at her. She is seriously creeping me out.

  ‘Yeah. Well.’ I gesture at Tara and Christian, swimming and splashing each other. ‘We weren’t like that.’

  ‘Who is?’ Sammy says and I hear a wistful note in his voice. ‘Come on,’ he says suddenly. He stands up. ‘This is supposed to be a celebration.’

  Have you read all of the Dance Academy

  Season Two books?

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  Copyright

  The ABC ‘Wave’ device is a trademark of the

  Australian Broadcasting Corporation and is used

  under licence by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia.

  First published in Australia in 2012

  This edition published in 2012

  by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia Pty Limited

  ABN 36 009 913 517

  www.harpercollins.com.au

  Text copyright © HarperCollins Australia

  Based on DANCE ACADEMY

  A WERNER FILMS PRODUCTION

  ORIGINAL STORY BY: Samantha Strauss

  CREATED BY: Samantha Strauss & Joanna Werner

  Copyright © 2012 Screen Australia, Screen NSW and Werner Film Productions

  This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  HarperCollinsPublishers

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  National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:

  Costain, Meredith, 1955–

  Tara: everything to lose / Meredith Costain.

  ISBN: 9780733329975 (pbk.)

  ISBN: 9780730497080 (epub)

  Series: Dance academy. Series 2.

  For primary school age.

  Dancers--Juvenile fiction.

  Interpersonal relations--Juvenile fiction.

  Australian Broadcasting Corporation.

  A823.3

  Cover design by Karen Carter

 

 


 


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