An expression of guilt colored Ellie’s face after that particular jab. She just nodded. I had almost forgotten Ashlinn had been in her head as well and would know what strings to pull.
“I don’t get it, and I can’t say that I like it, but whatever charges your batteries. At least you don’t have to worry about butter knives getting involved.”
I had a few choice words for that, but we were running out of time to argue or apologize; the city neared.
Trees were gradually replaced by buildings, and I knew we would reach the Lincoln Tunnel soon. We had about twenty minutes, and I did my best to not think about that. On one side of the road was a library that looked as if it belonged in a fairy tale, while the other side housed a football field.
Before I knew it, we were in the tunnel. I gave a silent thank-you to the gods of E-ZPass for making me not have to waste my limited money on tolls.
Ashlinn looked enthralled as the yellow tiles whooshed past us, and her head was practically plastered to the side window. I told her to look out the front instead to get the very first available glimpse of the city.
As the light grew brighter in the tunnel, I began to feel half as excited as my girlfriend looked. I leaned forward between the seats again, intending to absorb everything about New York, but instead my attention was grabbed by Ashlinn, and she wouldn’t let go.
Her eyes seemed to grow double their size. Without removing them from the sights bursting into view, she whispered, “It looks so different in reality,” and it felt as if my heart were expanding. The buildings were a gray-scale rainbow with concrete carpets rolled out in front. Hot dog carts and falafel stands studded the streets in their grimy colors, and I could swear the smell of the rumbling subway’s chain-smoker smog was already getting into the car.
Beautiful.
Ellie dragged me out of this reverie by snapping, “Yes, we’re here. Now how the hell do we get to this school?”
I fumbled for my cell phone and plugged in the address as we crept down the road. There was a light before any major turns needed to be made, so I thankfully had enough time to let the GPS load. Ellie had definitely tensed up upon our entering the city, but I suppose the prospect of driving in New York could do that to a person.
“Keep straight for a few blocks. We’re going to get onto Seventh Avenue at some point.”
“Which you’ll tell me. If you think there’s any chance I can both look at signs and not hit pedestrians, you are mistaken.”
The windows on the buildings around us were square jewels glistening with the reflected sun, and the people beneath them were weaving endlessly through each other like they were threads in a growing tapestry. Our speed no longer mattered because every car in the city was moving remarkably slow. I stared at the numbers on the dashboard’s digital clock, attempting to slow them through sheer willpower. Ashlinn was still looking out the window with her hands up against the glass.
“Seventh Ave!” I screamed, realizing we were coming up close. Ellie veered to the left, and we managed to not miss the turn.
“Now we need to go all the way up to Fifty-Seventh.”
That was only about ten blocks away. Ten of the shorter blocks. It was eleven minutes until the audition, and I tried to convince myself that a minute a block was a feasible concept.
Not that I was allowed much time to worry because Ashlinn suddenly shot up in her seat.
“You need to put on your leotard,” she exclaimed, reaching for my bag and tossing it in my face. We really should have prepared for this better in advance. “You won’t have any time to change once you get in.”
I obliged, unbuckling my seat belt and stripping with a prayer that no one was looking in. My hair also had to be dealt with. There was no chance of making it. I did my best to hide in the area in front of the seat as I shimmied out of the pajamas I had on, grateful they were loose clothes, and stretched the tights on over my legs.
Ellie batted my foot away when it got dangerously close to the gearshift at one point, and soon I was pulling straps over my shoulders. Everyone seemed a bit too preoccupied to watch the world’s most awkward reverse striptease.
A car behind us honked regardless of the fact there was a sign threatening fines against anyone who dared to violate the somewhat redundant noise ordinance, and Ashlinn gave out a shocked squeal. Ellie snorted at her reaction, which I responded to with a gentle whack on the arm as I twisted my hair with one hand into something that hopefully resembled a bun.
We crept down the road at a pace that only seemed to get slower as the audition time neared. Block after block passed in a numerical parade until we came to a stop. It was 9:29 a.m., and we weren’t going anywhere. This only lasted the moments it took us to register our standing still.
“Dammit, girl, get out and run!” Ellie yelled, and before I could even think about it, Ashlinn reached into my open bag and shoved the shoes and paperwork into my hands. I opened the door.
Eight
THE SIDEWALK passed beneath me like a conveyor belt, and I noticed Ashlinn was running next to me with my bag flung over her shoulder. She reached out for my hand, and I grabbed it, after which she doubled her speed, dragging me along.
We ran straight through two crosswalks, praying that no cars would come barreling. The building, a great glass structure, stood at the end of the block, and I pointed at it with my free hand, trying to suppress the burn in my legs. It would only increase during the dancing, and there was no time to warm up.
Her hand in mine was the only force propelling us forward. Everyone else on the sidewalk melted into a blur as they jumped out of our way. She pulled me to a halt in front of the rotating doors and before I could be pushed into my future, I threw my arms around her and hugged her tightly. When we parted she aimed me in the direction of the building.
“You’re already two minutes late. We’ll have time for this later.”
And before I could make her turn that statement into a promise, I found myself walking into the glass box of a lobby.
There was a long, white table with a sour woman sitting behind it who looked as if she may have been a dancer at some point as well. She beckoned me forward to sign in while chastising my lateness. Looking down at the paper revealed a long list of others who had made it before me, and I signed Victoria Lindy Dinham at the bottom of the section for dance majors. Glancing at the list showed me names that already sounded like they would fit in among proper dancers and actresses.
With a glare the lady pointed me toward the door to the audition room.
“We do not tolerate when students are tardy to class. How do you think showing up late to your audition will make you seem?” she snapped. “Now go on in.”
My stomach felt as if it were turning in on itself. Before entering I slid on my shoes, which were still in hand, noting how torn the bottom of my stockings had become courtesy of the New York streets. I could feel the woman’s continuing judgment at my delay as I tied up the ribbons, and gave her a small wave before heading in.
The room was uncomfortably big and mirrored on one side. I almost stopped dead upon seeing my reflection, complete with flushed cheeks and hair sticking out of the bun, but carried on. Opposite from where I entered sat another woman with a similar bearing to the first. She was behind an identical white table, although this one had a tripod-mounted video camera sitting on it. She was not smiling, but also not frowning. That was a start.
She gestured toward the empty space in front of her as a signal to begin, and I rattled off my slate. I could hear the tremor in my voice as I told her my name, hometown, and life goals. Then I handed her my phone, taking a moment to track down the music, and once it came pouring out of the speakers my body fell into the familiar moves of the dance.
The melody was so much louder in this room, as if the mirror was reflecting sound as well as light. It took a great deal of willpower to not be shaky and out of breath, still not fully recovered from the sprint to get there.
Ninety secon
ds.
All I needed was a minute and a half of perfection and nothing else; everything had built up to that since I was a five-year-old in a tutu. With an emptying breath, I rolled up onto my toes.
Every step I took was a prayer that this one woman watching would see something worthwhile. Having the music so loud was almost as extreme as when Ashlinn had had me dance without any at all. Unlike that instance of dancing for an audience of one, this time I was able to successfully transition from a chassé to a pirouette and not end up on my face. At least I had that going for me. My feet were crescent moons, arched in pink leather and cramping.
I tried to leave my mind blank of everything but the next move, even if that meant I had to focus on the pain, on the overexertion of my arms and legs. Ballet was pushing your body past what evolution meant for it to be capable of, to break the laws of nature in a quest for beauty. Dammit, I trained at East Coast ballet studios. Angry, retired, ex-Broadway dancers own every one and didn’t give wiggle room. If I could do one thing, I could kill this audition.
After the music stopped, I held my position, trying to read the woman’s expression the whole time. She wasn’t looking up at me but down at some papers lying on the table. It made me worry if she had actually seen any of my performance or if she would just watch all the videos later. Without music the room was frighteningly quiet, and every breath sounded like windstorms. She finally looked up at me with a masklike expression that nothing could be inferred from. Something came over me in that moment, and I stared her in the eye.
“That was for my father.”
As I grabbed my cell phone, she just nodded and gestured toward the door, telling me to meet with an admissions officer. I’d get my results in a month.
The admissions officer was a man named Neil, although boy was a better term; he barely looked older than me. His hair was modern, shaved on one side, and he had a smile that could only have come from years of living in an orthodontist’s chair. My lingering nervousness dissipated slightly at his friendly demeanor, but I still felt uneasy. There was no way to know if my dancing had been good enough, and I had nothing left but to analyze my slipups for the next four weeks. Neil and I sat at the third white table I would become acquainted with that morning, and I was relieved to see a few other stragglers finishing up their interviews.
“So, how do you think you did?” he asked, leaning over the table. He sounded like someone trying desperately to seem more relatable and cool than he truly was.
“It probably wasn’t the best audition in the world. I did show up late and sweaty. But I really put my everything into it.”
I flashed him a smile straight out of any romantic comedy.
“That’s what we like to hear.”
He returned the smile, but I couldn’t tell if it was condescending or not. He shuffled around some papers, and I twiddled my thumbs uncomfortably but tried to keep my eyes trained on him. Perhaps I was asserting dominance, or maybe just pretending I wasn’t completely terrified.
“Why don’t you tell me about some challenges you’ve faced so far in life.”
Wow. They really hit you with the big questions early on. I had expected this to just be a conversation about financial aid and extracurriculars. Closing my eyes as if I were about to perform yet again, I took a deep breath and prepared to bare my soul. Anything to get out of suburbia.
“I can start with the fact that my father died a year ago in a car accident. He used to plant red flowers and bring me to all my dance lessons.”
Neil began blandly apologizing for my loss, but I held up my hand and interrupted his pitying words. He didn’t know me; how could any sentiments of his be more than a farce? If he spoke, the tears would begin. They needed proof I knew the show must go on.
“He would cut those red flowers and wrap them in newspapers to give me after performances. Other girls would get nice grocery-store bouquets but mine had been cared for from the start by my father. Like me. That same day, the one I lost him, my brother Reeves became comatose.”
Neil was nodding. He must get to hear a fair share of sob stories on a daily basis when that’s one of the interview questions. I ignored his movements and continued.
“And I’ve just kept dancing. I don’t know if I’ve overcome these things, but the music never stopped, so neither did I. It’s not like I have much else.”
That was all I had to say, but it didn’t feel like the right note to end on. Life was becoming less cynical. He was a bobble head and opened his mouth to begin asking the next question, when I interrupted yet again.
“Actually, that last bit’s a lie. I have this dishy girlfriend now, and she is the best thing that has come out of all this shit.”
My eyes widened in fear of having allowed the swear to slip out, but his cool-guy demeanor just seemed to brush it off.
“I’m very happy you have someone. That’s important, especially when dealing with such tough circumstances.”
He conducted the rest of the interview a bit more formally, not bringing up the first question again, and what remained was more or less what I had expected going in. Without seeming too desperate, I told of my need to get into this school and how I had zero desire to study abroad. I defended my lack of extracurriculars other than dance, and he let at least the last year slide. More than anything, it was like a conversation with an upperclassman I wanted badly to impress.
The interview ended around the time I had actually begun to compose myself. He walked me to the door where I displayed my impeccable manners by shaking his hand and thanking him. Then I went into the glass lobby where I stood in the corner and removed my pointe shoes. That drove home how much pain they had truly caused, and I cringed with my mouth wide open, probably to the amusement of the sour-faced woman sitting behind her table. On top of it all, I forgot to bring socks. This wasn’t going to be a painless day. Still, I got them off and crossed through the lobby with torn tights and an upturned chin and found my way into the city. Now all that was left was to wait. It was almost a relief to have the matter in the hands of someone else.
The bustle of the streets nearly swept me along the second I hit the sidewalk, but I managed to flatten myself to the building and avoided being run over. I didn’t have time to wonder where Ashlinn had gone before getting an armful of my girlfriend out of nowhere. I nearly had a heart attack when she flung herself around me, chanting “How did it go?” several times, blocking my attempts to actually tell her.
When she finally calmed down to the point where she was merely squeezing me like a black-haired boa constrictor, I answered.
“Shockingly okay, considering I felt the opposite of prepared.”
I didn’t have it in me to spoil her ecstatic mood with my doubts, and I succeeded, judging by the way she grinned. Looking over her shoulder as we hugged, I realized someone was missing.
“Where’s Ellie?”
Her voice came from directly behind me.
“Here, just pretending to not be a third wheel as you get your little reunion over with. Jeez, you guys were only apart for what, twenty minutes? Thirty?” She didn’t sound bitter, just joking. I let go of Ashlinn, and Ellie gave me a much shorter congratulatory hug.
“What did you do after we left?” I asked. “It’s probably really bad that three teenage girls split up in New York City.”
Ellie shrugged. “It’s practically Disney World out here with the amount of tourists. I managed. There’s a parking garage around the corner. A very overpriced one, I’ll have you know. We can only stay a few hours. It was nice enough for me to drive you, but I don’t plan on going broke from today. Anyway, I dropped off The Hovercraft and ran back here. Thankfully, your hot date was waiting outside or else I would have been texting you in the middle of the audition.”
I realized they had spent the entire time I was dancing and interviewing for my life hanging out with little to do. Ashlinn could have said anything about how we truly met. Ellie didn’t seem too traumatized, though, and I got
no sense that she thought either of us was insane. My only prayer was that she had refrained from telling any more stories like the butter knife incident. God knows she had a lot saved up for such occasions. Most of the time I stayed sane by assuming she made them up. Even one of those tales would be preferable to her questioning asexuality, though.
“We gotta get a move on if you intend to do anything fun today. We don’t have much time and I think we’re getting in the way over here. How much money did you bring?”
Ellie was never one to mince words when asking questions. I reached into my bag, which was still flung over Ashlinn’s shoulder. Seeing the normal clothes she had packed brought on a wave of uncertainty over standing in public in just a leotard, but I pushed those fears back one spot in line and found my change purse.
“About twenty bucks.” I had hoped some more money would have magically winked into existence during the audition.
“That won’t do much if we’re going to eat today, and there’s no way you’re starving me. Okay, we’ll just go to Rockefeller Center and Central Park. They’re free, close, and we can’t waste the day thinking of something to do. Come on.”
Before she could leave us behind, I pulled out my sundress.
“I’m not going in ballet shoes and spandex.”
She groaned. “Go change, and make it quick.”
“Where do you propose I go? I’m not walking back in there, and I don’t think the cops would approve of me stripping in the streets.”
She popped a hand on her hip and looked at me over her sunglasses. “They should be grateful for the free show. Fine, duck into the next Starbucks we come across. There’s about three on every block.”
And with that she marched forward ahead of Ashlinn and me without even awaiting a response. We diligently followed. We reached the next Starbucks before we even came to an intersection, and it was so packed no one noticed when I ran in and out without buying.
We Awaken Page 8