by Charis Marsh
Anna burst into giggles as soon as they reached the stairs. “Omigod, that was hilarious!” Wait ’til I tell Grace, she’ll love that one. That was totally classic Mr. Moretti. ‘I am God …’” Alexandra felt sick. She rushed to get changed. She wanted to get out of the academy before everyone else got out of rehearsal.
As she trudged up the stairs she stopped to look at a framed photo of Leonie Camden on the wall. The Demidovskis framed pictures and news clippings of their favourite graduates on the wall, and she was one of Alexandra’s favourites. Leonie graduated four years ago, and she had accomplished everything that Alexandra dreamed of. Leonie got her RAD Solo Seal award at sixteen, and she was always chosen for solo and principal roles. After winning gold at the Prix de Lausanne during her graduation year, Leonie was invited to join the San Francisco Ballet.
Alexandra smiled to herself, looking at the picture of Leonie in arabesque. It was taken right after she won gold. Leonie looked exhausted but happy as she posed in her tutu. Alexandra had watched Leonie perform that variation on YouTube a million times. She always imagined herself in Leonie’s place, trying to feel the way Leonie’s muscles worked during the harder parts, the way the lights would appear, the size and rake of the stage.…
Alexandra continued up the stairs. Her resolve was back.
“Alexa! Alexandra!” Mrs. Demidovski had spotted her from inside the office and called her in. “Come here, eh?” She gestured at a chair.
“Hello, Mrs. Demidovski,” Alexandra said nervously. She walked quickly into the office and sat down, twisting her hands nervously in her lap.
“Where is your coat? You need coat go outside, it is cold! I don’t want everyone get sick before The Nutcracker, cannot be some fever, some cough, some something else.”
“I’ve got a coat right here.” Alexandra held it up for inspection.
“Ah. It doesn’t look warm enough, eh?”
“It’s warm.”
“Ah that’s good. So, you have lots of friends here? Grace? Grace is good girl, good friend for you. Also new boy, what is name … Mr. Demidovski like? Julie?”
“Julian?”
“Yes, yes. Good boy, nice body. And Tristan, work hard, much improve.” She started chuckling at the idea of Tristan. “You’re a good girl, much improve. Don’t worry, just work, eh? Get stronger, then more roles, okay? Must fight, be strong. Sometimes there is tree, a little cherry tree, have pretty blossoms … it is growing, watered … but then an axe come, whack!” Mrs. Demidovski hands were like knives as she mimed chopping the little tree into bits. “Chop, chop … must not be like this, must be strong, too hard to chop down. And if axe come, chop, must grow back, stronger. Cherries come. Yes? You need something, come talk to Mrs. Demidovski.”
“Okay. Thank you, Mrs. Demidovski.” Alexandra felt absurdly elated.
Mrs. Demidovski sat back; the conversation was clearly finished. Alexandra stood up, nodded, and smiled awkwardly, thanking her again.
As Alexandra walked toward her mom’s car, the happiness she had felt from Mrs. Demidovski’s words slowly evaporated as common sense kicked in. It was alright for Mrs. Demidovski to say “be a good girl, work hard, wait,” but Alexandra had been waiting and working ever since she came to the academy. Grace and Anna never had to wait, and they hadn’t even won a bronze, Alexandra fumed. I am just so tired of the whole academy!
“Hey, how was rehearsal?” Beth asked as Alexandra got in the car.
“Hell, as usual. I seriously hate Mr. Moretti,” Alexandra said, pulling her pointe shoes out and placing them on the car cup holders.
“Alexandra, put those away! They stink!”
“They’re wet! If I leave them in my bag they’ll just stay wet, and then they’ll melt, and then they’ll be dead and I’ll have to use a new pair tomorrow.”
“All right, fine. But put them on the back seat.”
“Fine. Oh, and Mrs. Demidovski randomly called me into her office after rehearsal.”
“For what?”
“The usual. Be a good girl, everything will be all right. Don’t worry, work hard …”
“How nice of her.” Beth’s tone was sarcastic. “Just to make sure we keep paying her, I suppose.”
“I don’t think so, actually. You know how awkward she is about money. I don’t really understand her. I swear, it’s like Mr. and Mrs. Demidovski really like me every time they talk to me, and then casting comes up and I don’t know what happens.” Alexandra winced. “Ow! I need ice … and Tylenol.”
“Tylenol? I don’t like you taking it so often.”
“Mom, my ankle’s killing me.”
“Okay, but be sure. I don’t want you ODing on Tylenol.”
Alexandra started giggling. “I can totally see that in 24 Hours: ‘Ballet Dancer Teen Overdoses on Tylenol.’”
“Alexandra! It’s not funny.”
In her room, Alexandra heaved her bag onto the bed with a groan. She took her school books out; biology, Hamlet, history.… A paper fell out of her English binder. It was a letter from McKinley inviting any Super Achievers students to submit their accomplishments to be posted on the wall and in the student newsletter. Underneath was a reminder to register if you wanted to perform at the school assembly.
Alexandra sat down on her bed and stared at the paper, biting her lip as she considered. Bronze at the Genees might be considered good by the kids at the academy, but she knew that the others in the Super Achievers program would just want to know why not a gold. A girl in her class had made the gymnastics team for the Olympics, and one of the boys had just missed school because he had a special violin solo performance in New York. Katy had just got back from three months of modelling in Italy. And she hadn’t seen Josh or Emily in weeks because they were filming. And that’s just the things I know about, Alexandra thought, pushing her textbooks off the bed so that they fell to the floor with a crash.
“And as for the assembly performance? Forget it!” She said out loud to her history book. The rhythmic gymnasts would steal the show, like they did every year, and the Evergreen Arts dancers would embarrass themselves by performing, which they did every year and never seemed to realize. No, performing was not an option. Especially if Diana was going to perform. Diana was in the program for opera, and she was incredible. Alexandra groaned and lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. She clenched her hands into fists and punched the pillow. If I’d just gotten gold … but I still wouldn’t have performed, I guess. Ballet couldn’t compete for coolness with rhythmic gymnastics and opera, and she couldn’t risk the fallout if people didn’t think she was any good. She couldn’t endure the embarrassment.
“Alexandra! Dinnertime soon, come and set the table,” Beth called.
“Coming,” Alexandra yelled back. She sighed, feeling her jaw line and cheeks. It didn’t seem possible to just stop. She needed to. She would be perfectly fine, and then suddenly everything would seem too much, she would panic stuff food into her body as fast as she could. It didn’t have to be a lot, just fast. And then, she would have to throw it up. She couldn’t dance on a full stomach, it wasn’t possible. Throwing up made her feel so much better. It calmed her down, made her feel like she was succeeding, even if everything seemed out of control. She could walk out of the bathroom and not feel so inferior, and for a couple minutes nothing mattered so much. It was worth it, just for that feeling. But I have to stop doing it so often, Alexandra thought as she felt her face. What is the point if it makes my face bigger?
She sighed and turned on her laptop. Immediately a message from Jules popped up.
Alexandra Dunstan
Julian Reese
Hey
Alexandra Dunstan
Hey, ‘sup?
Julian Reese
Um, nothing. Do you have Leah’s number?
Alexandra Dunstan
Ya …wait a sec
Alexandra Dunstan
778-448-2053 is her cell
Alexandra Dunstan
She runs Move
ment Conspiracy, u can google them
Julian Reese
Thx!
Alexandra Dunstan
No prob
Alexandra Dunstan
How was RAD?
Julian Reese
Uh…rlly bad
Julian Reese
Haha! Always
Julian Reese
Was rehearsal good?
Alexandra Dunstan
It was ok…
Alexandra Dunstan
Gotta go for dinner, see u tmw
Julian Reese
K, good night
Alexandra Dunstan
’night
|
Alexandra smiled, looking at the blank screen. Jules is rather sweet …
Emma burst angrily into the room. “Mom said that you had to set the table. I did it yesterday; you have to do it today.” Alexandra ignored her.
“I’m not doing it!” whined Emma.
“Fine! Just be quiet and go away!”
Alexandra went downstairs and began setting the table.
Chapter Eight
Julian Reese
“I, I wish you could swim — Like the dolphins, like dolphins can swim — Though nothing, nothing will keep us together … We can beat them, forever and ever…!”
Julian woke up and reached to turn off his alarm clock. It wasn’t there. But it continued to beep. He realized that, somehow, he was facing the wrong way. He flipped, reached blearily for the alarm-off button, then flopped back down on the bed and closed his eyes with relief at the silence. He lay there for a second, psyching himself up, then managed to jolt himself out of bed. He yawned as he felt his legs clench. Too many classes. It was five o’clock, way too early to be conscious, but Mr. Yu was making him do school shows with the youth company because they needed another boy. So he was going to some random elementary school to perform. He yawned again and stumbled into his clothes.
Mrs. Yu had gotten up even earlier and made breakfast. Julian was confused. He had assumed that they would just eat cereal, like usual. He looked across at the girls, but they just shrugged. He sat down and took his plate, wondering what the mound of greasy, white, slightly burnt food was exactly. He prodded it with his fork, running a list of possibilities through his head: Fritter? Pancake? Dumpling? He tried a bit. All he tasted was oil, held together by flour. He spat it out in a napkin.
“Its last night’s dumplings,” Mrs. Yu said. “Mash, is pancake. You try.” Julian was horrified. He hadn’t liked the dumplings the first time around, and he was sure that he’d puke if he tried them a second time. The girls started giggling and handed their plates back to Mrs. Yu.
“What’s wrong? You don’t want breakfast?”
Julian handed back his plate, too. “It’s just kinda too early for breakfast.” His stomach growled, and he wondered if he had any energy bars in his room.
“Okay, okay. If you don’t want breakfast, tell me before I get up and make!”
Julian followed the girls out into the hall. “Do you guys have any food?”
Keiko giggled and said, “You should eat Mrs. Yu’s breakfast, if you’re so hungry.”
Mao nodded, grinning. “Then you grow very tall, and not get sick,” she imitated Mrs. Yu.
“Just gimme some food? Please?” Julian pleaded. They went into Mao’s room, and Keiko went to grab some of her stash too. They spread it out on the bed.
“Hurry up,” Keiko said. “We have to get ready for the show, and I don’t want leave you here with my food.”
Julian grinned at her and made his selection. He thanked the girls before leaving with the food under his shirt.
As soon as he was ready, Julian went out into the kitchen. Mr. Yu was already there, eating his breakfast. Julian watched him in amazement. He didn’t even seem to taste what he was eating. Suddenly he stood up and said, “Okay, go now.”
Everyone trudged after him to the van and shoved into the vehicle, trying to make room among all the costumes.
“Where are we going?” Julian whispered to Keiko as they headed downtown.
“To the academy to pick up everyone else,” Keiko whispered back. Julian groaned. Of course, the other dancers needed a ride. But it seemed like an impossible number of people to fit in the van. The others got into the van with a chorus of “Ohayou,” and “’Morning,” and then they all lapsed into silence.
When they finally got to the school, a custodian let them into the gym where they would be performing. Everybody started stripping down to their dance clothes and putting on their warm-ups. Julian stopped moving.
“What’s wrong?” Kageki asked curiously, noticing Julian’s horrified expression.
“I forgot my warm-ups. And my non-costume dance clothes!”
Kageki laughed. “Sorry, man, that sucks,” he said, trying to be sympathetic. “I write a list of everything I need to bring every day, and then I check it all off,” he told Julian as they both went to get chairs to use as a barre.
“What? Like, everything?”
“Yes, everything. Cellphone, dance belt, lunch, pencils …”
“You are really weird,” Julian said shaking his head. Kageki grinned. He didn’t deny it.
Mr. Yu yelled, “Hurry!” impatiently, and began to leading the exercises before they had finished setting up their chairs. Julian reached down to hold his chair and realized that it wasn’t going to be any help at all. It was way too short and light to support him. He moved over to the wall and tried to find a surface that he could grip onto. It was all very smooth, so he gave up and just touched the wall lightly to get his balance. He tried to stand in first position in preparation for the exercise as Mr. Yu tried to find a good piece of music, but his feet immediately slid out of position on the slippery floor. He looked over at Tristan and Kageki, who just smirked at him.
“Got any rosin?” he asked hopefully.
“Nope,” Kageki said, looking forward as Mr. Yu glared at him.
“Sprinkle some water on the floor,” Tristan whispered.
“I forgot my water bottle,” Julian whispered back. Tristan rolled his eyes and passed his over.
When Julian was done sprinkling the floor, Tristan happily grabbed his bottle from Julian and started to spray the rest of the floor, too.
“Ahh! Too much!” Aiko wailed, as Kageki narrowly missed splashing her pointe shoes.
“Enough,” Mr. Yu said impatiently. They all went back to their chairs and walls, the girls glaring at the boys as they attempted to avoid the puddles of water and grumbled about it ruining their pointe shoes. They got through pliés without incident. Mr. Yu actually just stood there, staring into space, as they did the exercise.
He snapped out of it and started to give a tendu exercise, but stopped suddenly and ordered them to take their clothes off. They groaned and began shedding layers. They did the rest of the barre in a hurry and had no centre practice as Mr. Yu suddenly realized what time it was. The second they finished, they changed into their costumes in a panic, and the girls began fixing their pointe shoes and trying to warm their feet up a bit more. The boys went into the centre of the gym and began testing out their pirouettes.
“I love this floor!” Julian said as he went around five times. “It’s so awesomely slippery!”
“Yeah, but wait till jumps,” Tristan said. He turned six times and then fell on his side, one hand on his chest, the other stretching to the sky.
“Bet I can do seven!” Kageki said.
“Bet you can’t,” Tristan said. Julian and Tristan watched as Kageki prepared, and then just as he started Tristan yelled, “Jinx!”
Kageki gave up on doing a proper pirouette and turned into a spiralling spin, both hands clutched onto his heart. “I hate you,” he informed Tristan and prepared again.
“Don’t wind up,” Tristan said, laughing at him. Kageki stopped, looked at Tristan, and then prepared with exaggerated care. He went around one … two … three … four … five … he started slowing down at six, but just a
s he was about to stop, he twisted his body and managed to get around another time.
“Nice!” Julian said admiringly.
“Cheater,” Tristan said. “Now me.” He did the first three pirouettes normally, then hunched his shoulders and grabbed his crotch for four more.
“It doesn’t count if you do it that way,” Kageki argued. But Tristan defended himself.
Julian did a few pirouettes off to the side. He could do five max, grabbing his crotch or no.
The show went pretty well as far as Julian could tell. The children liked the national dances, tolerated the waltz and contemporary dances, yawned through Aiko and Dmitri’s pas de deux from Le Corsaire, and were wildly enthusiastic about Tristan, Julian, and Kageki’s version of the Russian dance taken from The Nutcracker.
“I need a drink,” Dmitri said later, as everyone unloaded themselves and the costumes out of the car.
“Me too,” Julian said. Dmitri looked at him in surprise.
“We have costume fittings today,” Tristan reminded him.
“You want to go to No. 5?” Dmitri asked Mr. Yu.
He nodded, continuing to unload. Everyone began to go inside, but Mr. Yu called the boys back to help.
“Where’s No. 5?” Julian asked, as they pulled out a trunk of costumes.
“Downtown. It’s a good bar,” Dmitri told him.
“No it’s not,” Tristan said quietly, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “It just has strippers,”
“You want to come with us?” Dmitri asked Julian, ignoring Tristan.
“Sure!” Julian said. “Uh, actually I can’t. I don’t have any I.D.”
Dmitri grimaced. “Too bad, man. You find some I.D. and I’ll take you. They used to have Pam Anderson stripping there before she got famous.”
“No, it was Courtney Love,” Mr. Yu said. “Come on, let’s go.”