by M Field
Just as we’re about to call it an afternoon, DD’s voice is heard like a bitter chill in the studio. “Beatrice! What in God’s name is that awful mark on your wrist?”
I look to the left to see DD storming over to me. Looking at my wrist, I cringe as in my sleepy haze this morning I neglected to cover up my tattoo. I cover my wrist with my right hand and look away, but his gaze tells me that he isn’t done with me yet.
“Well? Explain yourself!”
My eyes glance back and are assaulted by his scathing gaze. “It’s a tattoo. Normally I have it covered up but I forgot. It won’t happen again.”
He huffs and stands with his hands on his hips, no doubt revelling in pumping up the drama. Pointing to my wrist, his lips flick spittle as he continues to berate me. “That monstrosity is distasteful, and you look like a skank.”
I am taken aback by his cruelty. “But Sir …”
His face reddens as he continues, “Do not interrupt me. It is a good thing that the finale is this weekend. It will be a pleasure to see the last of you. That disgusting stamp will not see you hired. Mark my words, you will see. Maybe next time you will think twice about lowering your already lowered standards.”
My eyes blink at his antagonism. For once, I don’t feel tears, only hatred.
“That’s a shame you feel that way,” I respond nonchalantly. “Lucky that we are judged by our talent and not our appearance.” Turning to Josh, I say loud enough for DD to hear, “It’s a good thing he never knew about my back tattoo then, isn’t it?”
I hear a gasp and I ignore it, marching to my duffle. I pull it over my shoulder, smile at DD and walk past my classmates and out the door. Fuck him.
I reach into my bag for my iPod when I look out towards the car park. There, leaning against his car, is Alex. I sigh in relief and run quickly over to him. He extends his arms and I clutch onto him and plant the biggest thank-you kiss on his lips. He kisses me back, releases me slowly, and kisses my forehead while hugging me close.
“Well, if I had known that was the reaction I’d get for picking you up, I would have come every day.”
I chuckle and tighten my arms around him. “You just made the crappy end of my day so much brighter.”
He moves his hand up to my face and strokes my cheek and along my hairline. Before I can tell him more, Josh, Regan, and Aiden come barrelling out and sprint towards me. All three begin to talk all at once.
“Are you all right?”
“What a bastard.”
“That was fucking epic.”
“Thanks guys, I’m okay. Just pissed off, really.”
Alex looks down at me and strokes my cheek. “What happened, babe?”
I huff and quickly retell the director’s comments about my tattoo. His eyes darken and he snarls, “That motherfucker. Where is he?”
I squeeze my arms around him to hold him close. “Babe, don’t. Retribution will be on Saturday, you’ll see.”
Alex’s body is still tense under my grip, but at least he isn’t rushing off to belt up DD. No, this Saturday, that arsehole is mine.
The next few days pass the same way, routine practise with the occasional snarly comment from the director. Leticia keeps her comments to herself, but her knowing grin is always smeared across her bitchy face. Whatever. Countdown is on.
Since Alex asked if we could move in together, he’s had most real estate websites tagged on his phone while also looking at the paper. It’s exciting and fast, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. On Sunday, he wants to show me what he’s found and to make sure I think it sounds perfect before checking it out.
By the time Saturday comes, I’m ready. Preparing myself in the bathroom, I soap up every inch of my body while reflecting on the past four years. Most of my times here have been fantastic, but the added pressure to strive for perfection eats at me like an infectious disease. I’ve seen too many dancers fall to the pressure, to be made into lesser versions of themselves; all because they were conditioned to be perfect or they’d be seen as worthless. That’s not what I want. Sure, I could go through a theatre company and really enjoy it, but the pressure would stay the same. It wasn’t the life for me.
As the water runs down, I can’t help but remember the moment where I danced for my life last time. Where I begged to be given a chance to escape. To become a dancer and be free of the mess of high school. What a scared, bitter, hostile girl I was. I remember the beat of the music from that piece thrumming through my body as I obsessed over every single move. Every step took me closer to this academy. To where I was now. But now? Being here … it isn’t what I want. Now, I stand with the motions of the routines running through my mind as a means to an end. A swirl of energy ripples around my core. A Machiavellian forethought. I will play my part and then begin the future that I now believe that I am destined for. I smile at the thought of not having my future planned. The unknown is enough to fuel me for today’s gala.
I quickly dress and grab my bag by the door. Alex is waiting for me, and even he holds a nervous energy about him.
“C’mon baby, let’s see you light up that stage!” He winks while draping his arm over my shoulders. He leans in and whispers, “I missed being in the shower with you.”
I nudge him in the ribs; I want a moment to clear my head a bit. He knows it; he is just stirring.
“Yeah, yeah,” I reply.
Robbie is already out the front on his phone, waiting for us. Once he spots us, he ends his call and heads to Alex’s car.
“Right, let’s go. The girls and Theo are meeting us there.”
Walking into the dressing room, I have my mind set. I set my duffle on the ground before the vanity I will be using and peep at my reflection. My eyes aren’t haunted; I look determined and happy. Unzipping my duffle, I prepare for the group number while setting out the things that I need for the next few numbers. Luckily, only my solo requires slightly different stage make-up. Pulling my hair half up, I tease the back ready for our “Every Time” number. Regan is jumpy and can’t seem to sit still beside me. This night means more to her than it does to me.
Positioning ourselves on the stage, I feel the familiar lure of nerves begin to take hold. I straighten my shoulders and calm my breathing. The lights dim and I wink at Josh without the audience seeing.
The lights begin to illuminate the stage as the music fills the auditorium. It is time to show the director, Craig, what we can do. My body begins to move with the music as the haunting lyrics sway us to feel. Each step highlights the plight of our characters, of their journey, their struggles and their failures. By the end, I feel emotionally vulnerable, and pleased that Cory’s choreography was given the beauty it deserved.
As the night progresses, each number I dance feels like a farewell song to this journey. Watching my fellow classmates perform their solos and duet performances truly moves me. It is like I have been given a precious gift of seeing their souls embossed across their chests. Joshua uses his body beautifully as he dances across the stage. Regan’s solo is also ever so exquisite. Gentle tears mist in my eyes, but I draw them back for my next routine.
My duet with Josh arrives and my heart feels weak with emotion. We have chosen simple maroon pants for him and a blood-red camisole for me. Josh stands away from me in the far left corner where I am at the front right with my back to him. We are actors and storytellers, and as the music is cued, the mask is pulled down and our former selves are pushed aside. I am no longer me; I am her.
The subdued piano, accompanied by the aching voice of Skylar Grey, fill the auditorium with her adaptation of Rihanna’s “Love the Way You Lie.” The pained lyrics pave the way for our chosen storyline to begin. A woman, broken by the infidelity of her partner. Our bodies move in sync as we turn and glide across the stage away from each other. Skylar’s haunting voice carries them together until she is within reach of the partner who broke her heart. He stretches out and clings to her, his face tortured in desperation.
Her body sti
ffens as her shoulders shake back violently and she breaks from his hold and clutches her side, her steps following the rhythm of the keys. She watches as he turns, his back muscles ripple as he throws his arms up slowly in frustration. His pained stare rips into her tear-streaked face as he moves closer again into another embrace, whereby he lifts her body and her face becomes tight in anguish.
The power of Skylar’s voice pushes them to increase their movements as the pain synchronises. The unbearable loss, too much to take, causes them to throw their bodies across the floor, her fingernails curled and clutching into it as she tries to break free, but he drags her back, closer to him. The despair of losing a loved one is shown in his agitated and stiff shoulders. He crouches and begins to stand, dragging her with him. He pulls her in closer to him, facing him.
His strong gaze lures her chest to his chest, until he folds her in a final embrace. Her back releases in defeat as she nuzzles into his neck. Their chests heave in exhaustion as the moment catches up to them. The final bars of the melody play as their chins tremble and the music fades.
The lights dim as Josh’s tear-stricken face mirrors mine and he whispers, “I’m going to miss dancing with you.”
A soft cry breaks from my throat, as I clutch him. “I’m going to miss dancing with you, too.” We exit the stage.
Later, I stand by the stage director as my solo is about to begin. Gone is the sixteen-year-old, dark costumed girl. Tonight I have put the front section of my hair in twists and drawn it back into a messy bun. I have tight purple three-quarter leggings as well as a crop top. Over my top, I have a sheer long-sleeved top that finishes just below my elbows with the shoulders open and bare. Flecks of gold line my top and it gathers in at my waist. It has a scoop front and back cut, so my back tattoo is exposed, without anything to cover it. Trinity had made it, and I love it. I spent a few minutes earlier scrubbing the tattoo concealer off both my back and my wrist. I darken my eye make-up and am ready to go. This costume isn’t eye-catching; it was just different. Tonight, I am going on as me.
The stage manager signals for me to get ready and I clench and unclench my hands, ready to battle. The insecurities from my adolescence have kept a small hole in my heart, but since the reconnection between Alex and me, the newfound love that fills it helps in building a protective fortress around it. I will not let the director’s words ruin my last performance. This is my farewell to this life, a life I loved and am ready to let go. It was different from what I longed for as a teenager. Now, I have matured; I want a place to be myself aside from the bitching, nagging, and ridiculous expectations. No longer will I dance as if the devil is watching, while I dance for my freedom. Instead, I’ll dance for me alone.
With a nod for the stage manager, I quickly walk in the darkened auditorium and take place in the centre of the stage with my body crouched down.
Slowly the lights begin to flicker into different shades of red, blue, and gold. The gentle introductory bars to Florence and the Machine’s “Shake It Out” begin to unwind my body into mellow movements. The unfurling of my tension-filled body begins to visibly ease into a melodic dance. I feel myself letting go as the power ballad begins to take shape. I use the moment to drill my energy into pushing aside all the hurt that the director has caused and with that, draw in the strength of the person that I have become. The love I feel for Alex, the future that I envision and the acceptance of who I am all come out into my dance. My body can’t help but radiate the happiness that I feel, from the smile on my face to the quick turns I power through. My moves are different, unique, and more often than not, risky. I don’t follow the clean lines that DD prefers. Instead, I carve my own path, or in this instance, the dance floor.
As the momentum of the song increases, so too do the movements of my body. I execute my unease for the present academy and swallow the bitter pill of farewell. I make sure that through my steps that my back and my wrist are exposed that not one scout will forget them or me. As the song concludes, I regain my composure to leave, standing a warrior that not only chased away the uncertainty of her heart but also commandeered its beat to a standstill. The lights and sound both freeze together and with it comes an almighty shout from the back of the auditorium. Glancing quickly into the mass, I can see Alex standing with a huge smile of his face and cheering. Robbie, Hazel, Trin, and Theo stand by him, clapping and waving, but it is Alex who is my biggest fan. A huge smile breaks across my face as I raise my hand and tap my A tattoo with my finger. Winking, I turn and quickly leave the stage. Cheering like a banshee is normally frowned upon, but for once, I couldn’t give a shit about theatre etiquette.
The dressing rooms are filled with the chatter of excitement. The conclusion to the auditions has been conducted, so now it is just a matter of quickly changing and then making our way to the stage to hear the closing speech from our director as well as the choreographer. I prepare myself for not one of the scouts to look my way, especially after my rebellious performance.
By the time everyone gathers on the floor of the stage, the group of scouts has moved to the front row seats. I sit between Regan and Josh and listen as Cory and Craig welcome the industry people while also congratulating us all on a terrific performance. I inwardly cringe at DD Craig’s blatant over-exaggeration. He is not rude at all. He appears before us as a complete contrast to his normal idiotic behaviour.
“Well done, ladies and gentleman! What an admirable performance. All your hard work truly paid off.”
Shifting his body so he was facing the front row, he loudly compliments us. “This class have been a joy to teach—never a burden.”
The hell? Before I can stop it, a huff sounds from my lips. I immediately feel Regan tense beside me, but I keep my head down. Unfortunately, it doesn’t help.
“Problem, Miss Vera?” DD asks.
I look up; his furious eyes stare right at me. I stare back and consider how to respond. Before I offer a false apology, he continues with, “We keeping you, are we?” he sneers.
I feel my blood turn cold as I shoot him a tense glance. “No, not at all. I am just surprised at how you addressed us to the scouts, seeing as you have never spoken to us like that.”
His beady eyes flare widely as he stares back at me. “I beg your pardon!”
“You heard me, Craig. I know there’s nothing wrong with your hearing.”
“How dare you?” he sneers. “Thinking you can talk to me like that after everything that this academy has given an ingrate like you!”
My classmates gasp as I stare back at him. That is it. Enough with the bullshit. Standing slowly, I look around at my peers before speaking in a level tone. “This class has been an eye-opener, that’s for sure. I will never regret my choice to come here. I will, however, regret my choice to work with you.”
Before he can interject, I look at the scouts and continue, “I thank you for the opportunity. I am not sure if I had a chance seeing as this dickhead—” I pointed to DD, “—told me tirelessly that I was talentless. I have made the decision prior to this evening to leave the academy.”
Silence surrounds me. Well, isn’t this a clichéd exit. All I need to do is talk about believing in myself and I’ll be in a teen movie.
“Beatrice, you are no longer welcome in this academy. Your insubordination— ”
“I think you’ll find, Craig, that I quit. I am also tired of listening to your bullying and your merciless teasing. You are an arsehole. You were always an arsehole and you will forever be an arsehole. The only time you aren’t an arsehole is when you’re screwing Leticia in your office. That just makes you a creep.”
Draping my duffle over my shoulder, I tilt my head and look at him in challenge.
“You bitch!” Leticia yells, as I roll my eyes and look over at her.
“Yes, I’ll take that. Least I can do for the snarky venom that pours out of your mouth.”
Stepping around the group, I add, “Thank you, class, for being a pleasure to dance with. Many of you hold a be
auty and talent that are both timeless and effortless. I wish you an amazing future.” I eyeball Craig and finish with, “I think you’ll find that I was never a pedestrian dancer. In fact, me and my trashy tatts are going into burlesque. So you, Sir, can go fuck yourself.”
Craig stands there with his mouth open, his face red. The scouts shift in their seats as their chatter begins to infiltrate from the front row; I continue to exit the stage. Just as I am reaching the stairs, a scout from the front row meets me at the base of them. Oh, here we go. I tense, slightly embarrassed by my outburst.
“Miss Vera, my name is Marcus Sheffield. You danced beautifully tonight; if you were to change your mind about leaving, I would love to offer you a position at my academy.”
I hold my hand up while clutching my chest with the other.
“My God,” I whisper. “That is a wonderful offer, and I thank you—I just can’t. I have found my path.” Looking over my shoulder I continue, “I have three friends, Regan, Aiden, and Josh; you should choose them.” Pointing to DD, I suggest, “While you’re at it, fire that arsehole, too.”
He reaches out and offers me his hand that I firmly shake. This was a strange encounter.
I leave the auditorium, beaming at my achievement. Alex leans against his car with Robbie and my friends standing next to him. The second they see me, an almighty cheer erupts and I laugh, clenching my duffle and sprinting over to them. The girls run up to me and I drop my bag so both Hazel and Trin can hug me.
“Oh my God!” Trin screeches. “You were fucking hot! That was awesome!!”
I laugh and hug them both back.
“You still wanna do a duo?” Hazel queries, clutching my waist.
“Absolutely, hon. Without a doubt. We are going to light up that stage!” We giggle and do a
happy dance. A shadow soon appears before me in the shape of Alex, while Robbie and Theo step closer, smiling at me. More congratulations are given and when Alex finally is able to hold me, he pulls me close to his chest and kisses me.