Dance Academy: Second Chance

by Sherryl Clark

  Later that day in the common room, Sammy gathers us together for one of his ‘talks’. ‘Okay, so now I have you all here –’

  ‘You’re not coming out again, are you?’ Ben asks.

  Sammy shakes his head. ‘No. I need your help. This morning I realised that I dance best when I’m with you guys so …’ He grins at us. ‘For my contemporary solo, I want you all on stage, doing it with me.’

  We sit in stunned silence for a moment, then I say, ‘You want to make your Prix de Fonteyn solo a group activity?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I do,’ he says.

  ‘What about the rules?’ Tara asks.

  ‘I’m not changing the choreography. I’ll be at the front. You’ll just be up there as well, making me look good,’ he says.

  Christian says, ‘Sammy, there was a reason we didn’t cut it at the Nationals.’

  Abigail snorts. ‘It’s just a gimmick. You’re self-sabotaging,’ and she walks out.

  Sammy’s disappointed, but we all agree with Abigail. He’s just freaking out.

  I’m upstairs getting changed for rehearsal when Tara decides to be concerned and caring, and I hate it.

  ‘I know it’s Christian,’ she says, ‘but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me about it.’

  I’m so glad I’m busy putting clothes on and don’t have to look at her. ‘And I totally would but it’s boring. I just got sick of ballet boys.’

  Right then, Grace sticks her head around the door. At least she’s a handy distraction.

  ‘T. I know we’re technically rivals now,’ Grace says, ‘but this got sprung on me last minute and I was wondering …’

  ‘How did that work?’ Tara says. ‘What happened to Josie Mason?’

  Yeah, I was wondering that, too. How did Grace manage to con her way into the Prix while she was in London?

  Grace hesitates. ‘You mean, after I pushed her down the stairs and broke her ankle?’

  She laughs, but how do we ever know when Grace is really joking?

  ‘Seriously,’ Grace says, ‘will you watch my tech rehearsal? I need your feedback.’

  Tara nods, but I wish she hadn’t said yes. I have a bad feeling about it.

  Back to rehearsals for Peter Pan, and Ollie and Abigail are dancing together. It’s the part of the ballet where Captain Hook kidnaps Wendy and the choreography is full of dramatic lifts and catches. Abigail is dancing with this determined look on her face but Zach doesn’t like it. ‘Abigail. Wendy is in battle but she’s still Wendy. I want to see that sweetness. Some vulnerability.’

  Abigail rolls her eyes just as Sammy comes into the studio. Zach says, ‘Sammy, I’m told you’re not meant to be anywhere near a studio.’

  Sammy says, ‘Just feeling adrift, sir.’ And gives us a big glare.

  ‘All right, make yourself useful,’ Zach says. ‘Grab that camera and film this for me.’

  Sammy slumps across to the camera, picks it up and begins to film Ollie and Abigail as they dance. Then he has to film Christian and me, and I know it’s not working. We’re out of sync, going in different directions, and when Christian knocks me off balance I just want to strangle him.

  ‘It’s curtain up in three days,’ Zach yells, ‘and that’s not where it should be.’

  But we just dance even worse and when Zach flicks the music off we stop, not looking at each other. ‘A bit of tension can make things interesting,’ Zach says, ‘but you two have slipped into dysfunctional. Take it outside and sort it out.’

  The last thing I want to do is talk to Christian about anything, but I make sure I plaster a bright smile on my face, despite how much I’m hurting inside. ‘I don’t want to be jealous of Tara,’ I tell him. ‘And I’m not going to let this affect my friendship with her. Oh, wait, I invented that. You don’t care that she’s with Ben now, do you?’

  He shakes his head, still in denial. ‘No, I don’t!’

  ‘Good, because she’s happy. She’s really happy and she’s over you.’ His jaw tightens and I know I’m right about this. ‘You should have a go at being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.’ I head back to the studio but can’t help throwing one more parting shot at him. ‘Trust me, it’s character building.’

  At rehearsal the next morning, Christian is nowhere in sight so Zach coaches Ben and me through the pas de deux, without music. I’m actually enjoying being Tink again at last. Abigail just danced really well and we’re all feeling happy and focused for a change.

  Miss Raine comes in and watches us for a few moments and then clears her throat. ‘Zach, I need to interrupt rehearsal.’

  We all turn around, surprised, but I can tell from Miss Raine’s face and voice that something is seriously wrong. Has Tara hurt her back again?

  Then she tells us that Sammy has been killed in an accident and I can’t believe it. Surely she isn’t serious – but she is, and her words echo in my head. It’s like I’ve been hit by a sledgehammer and my legs go to jelly. How can Sammy be dead? How? This was his day, this was his whole life, and now it’s gone? Just like that?

  I’m so full of pain, I can’t stand it. We leave rehearsals and head back to the boarding house, stunned. Nobody talks.

  The common room is filled with Sammy’s friends. Miss Raine is there, too, and I’m crying as I insist to her, ‘We have to go to the hospital.’

  ‘I know how hard this is but the Liebermans have asked to be alone,’ she says.

  ‘We’re his family.’

  Suddenly, Tara is there and I cling to her, hugging her tightly, tears streaming down my face. But Tara isn’t crying. She pulls away. ‘Abigail?’

  We run upstairs and hear the shower in the bathroom. In the end cubicle, Abigail, still in her Wendy rehearsal clothes, sits huddled in the bottom, her arms wrapped around her legs, her teeth chattering from the cold. Tara turns off the water and we pull her gently out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her. She is crying so hard she can barely stand up.

  That night, we all sleep in Sammy’s room on the floor. His team tracksuit and his bag are still laid out on his bed, and we leave them there. We don’t talk much – it’s like no one is able to believe it. We keep expecting Sammy to bounce into the room, and we can’t stand the emptiness. We need to be together, need to feel Sammy is still here somehow, even if we know we’ll wake up tomorrow and it will all be true, all over again.

  CHAPTER 12

  The day of Sammy’s funeral, everyone is quiet. Us three girls dress in black, the guys wear yarmulkes, and we all go together. It’s a Jewish funeral, and at the grave we stand across from the family. I hold Tara’s hand tight, and Sammy’s brother, Ari, stares at us like he can’t believe how this could have happened either.

  The rabbi seems to talk forever but it’s over too soon. We walk out of the cemetery with Miss Raine, and Christian asks her, ‘What do we do now?’

  But Miss Raine’s not listening. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Miss Raine?’ I say.

  But Miss Raine is a long way from here, and I guess she’s remembering … like we all have been, over and over, remembering all those moments with Sammy that we don’t want to let go.

  We gather back at the studio and she looks around, exhausted. ‘Out of respect, the Prix de Fonteyn committee has decided to postpone the remaining sections of the competition for a week.’ Tara seems relieved. But Miss Raine hasn’t finished. ‘And we’re cancelling our production of Peter Pan.’

  Abigail speaks up straight away. ‘He wasn’t even in it. So what are we doing here?’

  Miss Raine takes a breath. ‘We’re still running classes until the end of the semester, but it’s up to you whether you feel like attending.’ Then she adds quietly, ‘I want you to know this is your home. A grief counsellor is on standby and your teachers are all here if you …’

  Abigail isn’t listening. She walks straight over to the barre, kicks off her heels and begins to warm up. Tara follows, and then I do, too. Suddenly everyone is at the barre, warming up
together, and Miss Raine and Zach say nothing, just watch, but I know they understand.

  That night, I curl up with Tara in her bed. Neither of us wants to be alone. Abigail pretends to be asleep under her eye-mask, but I bet she’s not.

  ‘I’m not a funeral expert,’ I say, ‘but a couple of prayers, some bad sandwiches … How can anyone expect that to give you closure?’

  ‘I think today just felt formal,’ Tara says.

  A great idea occurs to me – I sit up and flip on the light. ‘So we hold our own. A proper Sammy Lieberman tribute.’

  ‘Sshh.’ Abigail peels off her eye-mask, annoyed with us.

  I grab a pen and paper. ‘So do you guys have any idea of what he would’ve wanted?’

  ‘There’s no point dragging it out,’ Abigail says. ‘That’s all anyone has done since it happened.’

  I stare at her. ‘You’re bored of the grieving-talk, are you?’

  ‘It’s morbid,’ Abigail says. She grabs her doona and pillow and stalks out of the room, just as my phone rings. It’s Ethan and I answer it.

  ‘Ethan, you don’t have to call every hour. I promise, I’m fine.’ This is just like audition week when he was calling me every five minutes, even in Dr Wicks’ office waiting for my medical exam. I told Ethan back then, ‘I know it hurts but resist the urge to check up on me. Bye.’

  I remember there was a boy waiting on the couch and it was Sammy, wearing glasses and writing on a notepad. ‘Hellooo,’ I said, being friendly, but he just smiled and went back to what he was doing, ignoring me. Well, I can’t stand being ignored, so I said, ‘What’cha got there?’ and sat down right next to him.

  ‘It’s personal,’ he said so I snatched the notepad up and read what he’d written – ‘Dr David Lieberman’ a hundred times.

  ‘Personal. Ha,’ I said. ‘I know parental fraud when I see it.’ This guy interested me.

  ‘My dad. He’s not a ballet fan so …’

  ‘Where does he think you are this week?’ I asked.

  ‘Science camp.’ We smiled at each other, and before he could object, I grabbed his permission form and scrawled the signature he’d been practising. He looked terrified and tried to grab it back. ‘Don’t. No. You’ll –’

  But when he looked at it, it was just fine. He smiled with relief. ‘Thanks.’

  I grinned. ‘So I’m gagging to bust out and you’re tunnelling in.’

  ‘You’re not though, are you?’ he said. ‘If you really didn’t want to be here then you would just dance badly. You’re self-protecting. Most likely fear of failure.’

  I nearly choked – how did he know that, right away?

  So that’s why I have to organise this thing for him. I get everyone together so we can plan it all out. I even have a whiteboard.

  ‘We’ll need a eulogy,’ I start. ‘Stuff like how he saw the world, saw us, in his own unique way. Christian?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Do you want to write it?’

  Christian looks stunned, but Ollie says, ‘I will, if that’s okay with everyone?’

  I nod – great. ‘Okay, the venue is highly critical because it has to perfectly embody who he is.’ I can’t believe I said that. ‘Who he was.’

  Later, Tara and I go up to the boys’ room but Christian won’t let us in. Sammy’s stuff is still laid out on his bed.

  ‘We need Sammy’s laptop,’ I say. ‘For his music library.’

  Christian shakes his head. ‘No, that’s not going to happen. I’m packing everything up for the Liebermans. Nothing else is leaving the room.’

  I fold my arms, ready for a fight.

  ‘Ollie came in before and stole Sammy’s cardigan,’ Christian says.

  What does that matter? ‘Actions of a criminal,’ I say, scoffing. ‘And you’re overruled.’

  I grab Sammy’s laptop off the desk and sit down on the bed, but Tara says, ‘Can I help you? Put everything into boxes?’

  Before Christian can answer, I snap, ‘You’ve got Prix practice. Sammy would still want you to win. I may not have a clue what he’d want for his memorial but that I do know.’

  But no matter what I think of, it’s not right, and I don’t know what to do. Later, everyone is back in the common room and they’ve given up, too, even Tara next to me can’t think of anything to say. I start to cry again.

  ‘Maybe we can’t make sense of it,’ I say. ‘The funeral didn’t and neither would a memorial. Even if we knew what he wanted.’

  Then Abigail comes in, the person I least expected right now. ‘He told me,’ she says, and we all stare at her.

  ‘Energy drink incident,’ she says. ‘He thought he was going into cardiac arrest.’

  A few of us smile. That sounds like Sammy.

  ‘It’s pretty simple,’ she says, and at last I feel some hope that we can do this right.

  About an hour before dawn, while it’s still dark, we gather on the beach and light a fire. Christian connects Sammy’s laptop to some portable speakers and Tara lights the candles in holders. We’ve brought a big photo of Sammy and we put it up where we can all see it, then we snuggle under our blankets and Christian says, ‘Ready?’

  They all nod, but I suddenly see something beyond us in the darkness. Someone is coming. ‘Wait.’ I’m on my feet, running – it’s Ethan! He gives me a big hug and I manage to say, ‘I wasn’t fine.’

  ‘I know,’ he says, and hugs harder. He joins us and Christian starts again, standing up.

  ‘How do you sum up Samuel Isadore Lieberman …’ He looks down at the computer screen, remembering … ‘This is a list he wrote before first year. Number 50: Disprove the validity of jock straps.’ We laugh – that was Sammy. ‘Number 49: Lobby to make ballet an Olympic sport.’

  ‘He asked me to help with that,’ Ethan says.

  Christian keeps reading all the way down the list. ‘21: Get a tattoo.’ Ben smiles at that one.

  ‘20: Dance on top of the Harbour Bridge.’

  Tara holds my hand tightly.

  ‘4: Stand up to my dad. Number 3: Fall in love so my heart takes over from my head.’

  Abigail and Ollie are both crying now, tears dripping down their faces onto the sand.

  ‘Number 2: Get into the National Academy of Dance.’

  Tara smiles. Christian pauses – his voice wavers and he wipes his face. He can’t hold back a sob. ‘Number 1: Make a group of friends I’ll know for the rest of my life.’

  He looks up at us. ‘He didn’t complete all of these obviously, but he definitely did the last one.’

  ‘And now it’s time for his favourite song.’ I jump up and hit play on the laptop and a pop song blares out of the speakers. It’s quite possibly the most awful song in the history of pop songs. Everyone bursts out laughing, it’s so terrible.

  Ethan says, ‘Wow. That’s …’

  ‘And it definitely was his favourite?’ Ollie asks.

  ‘He played it 368 times. We’re skipping to the ninth favourite.’ I flick the track and this time a beautiful ballad pours out over the speakers. Everyone smiles and I hug Christian and give him a kiss, friends again. How could we not be right now? As the song plays, we all sit quietly, remembering, holding hands, crying again. The sun is coming up and I stand, my legs feeling wobbly. I grab Ethan’s hand and pull him to his feet. ‘Up. We’re dancing.’

  I drag Ethan with me, and we run fully clothed into the water. One by one, they all join us – Sammy’s friends – Christian, Ben, Ollie, even Abigail and Tara in the end. We dance in the water, celebrating Sammy’s life, twirling and jumping, and then finally holding each other as we watch the sun rise over the city. Sammy, we will never, ever forget you.

  CHAPTER 13

  We decide we will celebrate Christian’s eighteenth birthday, but we keep it low-key. No one is in the mood for a big party. We climb the hill and sit together on blankets, and I produce the present.

  ‘You guys shouldn’t have given me anything,’ Christian says.

  I ag
ree. ‘That’s what I said. We should ignore your eighteenth birthday.’ Then I throw it at him with a grin. Tara looks on anxiously as Christian pulls his gift out of the bag.

  ‘I hate that you’re riding,’ she says, ‘but apparently this is the safest. It’s all about the double stitching.’

  The gift is a protective leather jacket.

  ‘It was Sammy’s idea,’ Abigail says. ‘He got us all to put in ages ago.’

  Christian looks down at his present, choked up. ‘Thanks. It’s great.’ We go quiet for a moment, thinking about Sammy.

  Ethan changes the subject. ‘So, summer plans.’ He looks at me. ‘Can I tempt you with Barcelona? We’ll get the parentals over.’

  I shrug. Not sure I want to even consider Christmas with Tash, although Barcelona would be nice. ‘Karamakov family does Christmas Espanola.’ My Spanish accent is spectacular!

  Tara says, ‘I was going to invite anyone who wants to come back to the farm. It doesn’t compare with Europe but …’

  ‘I don’t know. I haven’t been to Spain but the farm is pretty special.’ Christian smiles at Tara just as Ben arrives. Now that’s an awkward moment.

  ‘Benster,’ I say, leaping in to fill it. ‘I see no cake in your possession.’

  Ben just looks at Tara, and he’s not too happy about something. ‘Can I talk to you?’

  Tara nods, and follows Ben up the hill. I think we’re all wondering what is going on.

  Now that Christian’s got his jacket, he’s flashing around his brand new motorbike licence. I watch Ben and Tara as Abigail joins in their conversation – I bet I know what that’s about. Ben has been asked to take Sammy’s place in the Prix. What a hard decision! But he should do it.

  I’ve got my own problems. Exams. I know I’ve worked hard but now the crunch has come. I have to go in there and dance, despite how I feel about Sammy’s death. I know Sammy would want me to, but it feels awful.

  Mixed Classical is first and I go to the barre to warm up, trying to ignore the others staring at me. Of course, Lulu has to say something. ‘Can’t believe she showed.’