No One's Watching

by Sandy Green

  As I marched into Irish dance class, Blake waited for me at the barre by Lindy.

  He took my hand. “You feel better today?”

  I studied the paint on the wall, withdrew my hand and laid it on the barre. “I’m fine.”

  “You weren’t worried about your grandmother, were you?”

  “Everything’s fine.”

  His fingers stroked mine. “I left the games early after supper. I wasn’t having much fun.”

  Not as much fun as with Shelly after our rehearsal yesterday afternoon.

  “You okay?” He frowned.

  Suddenly my mouth took over my brain. “I think we should make a clean break.”

  “Huh?” He squinted at me.

  “Camp is almost done. We’ll be going home soon, and we’ll never see each other again. It’s better this way.” I picked up my dance bag.

  “Don’t I get any say in this?”

  You’ve already done plenty. Nothing you say could fix it. I took a place at another barre.

  Lindy’s reflection in the mirror bordered on horror. Blake took a small towel from his dance bag and slapped it on the barre.

  When Mr. Sean came into class, his eyes swept the studio, lingering at the two opposite places Blake and I occupied. “Let’s begin.”

  As we did our warm-ups and barre work, my shoulders relaxed and the knot in my stomach eased. Toward the end of class, we rehearsed everything we had learned to that point. The familiar scent of Blake’s cologne saddened me as I posed next to him, my head tilted toward his shoulder. For the second time in two weeks, I had tasted rejection. I wasn’t good enough for a ballet solo or for Blake.

  In the beginning of the piece, where I danced off stage, Mr. Sean said he’d never seen such a wistful expression as Blake’s. Born of heartbreak and happiness. He told Blake his acting was great. Blake blushed, and I faced the wall.

  Mr. Sean taught me my solo. It was short but sweeping and full, covering the whole stage. Blake and I came together to dance again before the short finale, which consisted of chunks of steps we’d learned in class before. At one point, Blake and I held each other’s waists as we spun. It was dreamlike, which was the feeling of Les Sylphides. Mr. Sean told me I was allowed to look at Blake. Even though there wasn’t much of a story in the piece, there was a relationship going on.

  “If you look at the floor when you dance, that’s where you’ll wind up.”

  I nodded to my feet who never cheated on me. Maybe tomorrow I’d have the courage to face Blake.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  I was invisible for the next two days, dodging both Blake and Shelly. I hid at a small table with Candace and Danilo for meals. I danced in the pack in the back of the room in Mme. Petrova’s ballet classes. In Labanotation, I planted myself in the middle of Dira, Nicki, Candace, and Danilo. In repertory class, where we’d finished with Shelly’s solo and learned the Spanish dance from Act Two in the Nutcracker, I faded into the walls.

  Extra evening rehearsals were especially painful. After Irish dance class Wednesday morning, I asked Mr. Sean if we could skip them.

  “That’s up to you and Blake and how well you want to perform.”

  Megan circled us. “I think it should be up to Lindy and me, and we vote they need the extra work.” She poked Lindy. “Right?”

  Lindy’s eyes shifted between us as she shrank against the wall. “I don’t know.”

  “I agree. We need the extra rehearsal.” Blake stared at me, his eyes blazing. He flicked the hair from his forehead where a fresh moth-shaped bandage covered his cut from the thunderstorm.

  I ached to stroke the edges of it. “Fine.” I let my head drop to my chest as I spoke to my feet again.

  “Right then. That’ll do.” Mr. Sean glanced around the studio where the other munchkins had plastered themselves against the barres as if Megan were a match and the rest of us explosives. “Off with you.”

  As everyone gathered his or her dance bags, shrieks pierced the air. Mr. Sean dashed from the room, and we followed him into the clogged hallway.

  “Who screamed?” Candace grabbed my arm as I passed the studio where she had character dance.

  “I don’t know.” I pulled Candace by the elevators to get a better view.

  A girl moaned. “Why me? Why me?”

  “Give them room.” Mrs. Sykes directed the crowd, leading Mr. Jarenko who carried the girl. Her head was tucked into his shoulder, and her feet bobbed to one side. “Coming through. Get the elevator button.”

  Candace reached over and punched up.

  Mr. Jarenko elbowed his way through the swarm of dancers.

  “Oh, no.” Candace covered her mouth with her hand. “It’s Shelly.”

  When they reached us, Shelly’s contorted face sought me out. She reached her hand to me. “It hurts so much.” The cords in her neck strained.

  My mouth was a grim line. I never would have wished all the pain Shelly had dumped on me to be repaid. And never all at once.

  “You are friends with Shelly, no?” Mr. Jarenko nodded. “She needs you.”

  I’m doing this for your mother, Shelly. I took her hand.

  “Stay with me.” Her eyes were moist.

  Why choose me? I wanted to ask her what she was thinking when she kissed Blake.

  The elevator doors opened, and we stepped inside. Blake stared at us, his mouth turned down. Would he rather be in my place?

  We rode to the lobby level. Mr. Jarenko laid her on a sofa in the TV room.

  “Get more pillows for Shelly so we can keep her leg up.” Mr. Jarenko grasped her hand.

  “The physical therapist is on her way.” Mrs. Sykes tucked the pillows I had gathered behind Shelly’s back. She winced when I propped her foot on one.

  I knelt next to the sofa, furious with her for kissing Blake and then needing me like nothing had happened. A flood of guilt swept over me. Sure I was hurt about what she had done with Blake. What about the years of torment and bullying I was responsible for in her life? I gnawed on my lip. I should’ve asked Mom first about how to help Shelly, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t supposed to know about Mrs. Traum’s money problems in the first place.

  I cradled Shelly’s hand in both of mine. “Did you slip? Was it like the time you hurt your foot in The Nutcracker?” A bad sprain Shelly endured on a slick part of the stage in a matinée performance had me dancing all the parts we usually shared.

  She drew a breath through her gritted teeth. “This is much worse. I was rehearsing my solo, and my foot gave way. I felt a snap.”

  A young woman rushed to Shelly’s side. “Please give me some room.”

  We stood aside. Shelly yelped as the therapist prodded and moved her foot.

  “Does this hurt? Does that?” the therapist asked to Shelly’s various groans.

  Stubborn tears clung to Shelly’s eyes.

  “I can’t be sure. We need to get her foot X-rayed.” The therapist shook her head and stood. “I’ll call ahead and let the orthopedist’s office know you’re coming.”

  “Orthopedist?” Mom went to one to get her bunion fixed which hadn’t worked out so well.

  “Bone doctors.” Mrs. Sykes nodded. “They’ll have X-ray equipment there, and we can determine what’s injured.”

  “She can still dance. Right?” I winced as Shelly attached her vise grip to my hand.

  “That’s why we’re going to the orthopedist’s office.”

  “Darlings, don’t worry.” Mr. Jarenko patted Shelly’s arm.

  “Mr. Jarenko, please carry Shelly down to the parking garage where I’ll get my car, and we can take her to the doctor’s office.” Mrs. Sykes handed me Shelly’s dance bag. “She won’t be needing this. Please be sure it gets to her room.”

  “Can’t Kit come with me?” Shelly clung to my hand.

  “You can see her when we get back.” Mrs. Sykes pointed to the door.

  Mr. Jarenko scooped her up, and they left down the hall. All of my energy followed them. The horror of
Blake cheating on me, Shelly’s accusation of how I had humiliated her, and endless hours of dance hit me. I sank into the sofa like Giselle disappearing into her grave again. Down, down, down into blackness.

  “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Candace rushed to my side.

  I pushed myself up. I had fallen asleep using Shelly’s dance bag for a pillow.

  “Are you okay? What happened with Shelly?” Candace kneeled by me.

  I rubbed my forehead. “They took Shelly to get her foot X-rayed.”

  “Is it broken?” Danilo asked.

  I lifted my arms helplessly. “I don’t know.”

  “I hope not.” Candace lifted her horrified face to Danilo. “How awful.”

  I squinted. “What time is it?”

  “Lunch is almost over.” Danilo hauled me to my feet.

  “I’m not hungry anyway. I’ll change for afternoon class.” I wobbled under the weight of both dance bags.

  “Are you going to be all right?” Candace asked.

  “Sure. I’ll meet you at the ballet studio.” I dragged myself to the elevator. Why was everything so complicated? What did Shelly want from me?

  A gorgeous, but jumpy, guy dance student at the college led our afternoon class. Blake and I had gotten good at ignoring each other. We choreographed our exits so there would be the maximum number of other students between us. He never apologized or explained why one day he was kissing me and was my boyfriend then the next day he was all over Shelly. What had I done wrong?

  Candace and I had gotten back to our room where a note had been clipped to our door. I figured it was from Nicki or Dira. Candace reached for it.

  After I flopped on my bed, Candace stood over my bed with the unfolded paper. “It says you need to go to Shelly’s room.”

  I sat up. “I already dropped her dance bag off with Amy at their room earlier.”

  “Maybe she wants to thank you.” Candace pulled my arm.

  Maybe she’d confess what she and Blake were rehearsing in the studio on Sunday.

  For that, I’d have to go and see.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Hatless Amy let me into their room. It was quiet and solemn. The shades were drawn. No music played. Shelly had her foot propped on extra pillows on her bed and had covered it with a pink, fluffy blanket.

  Amy leaned in to whisper. “They gave her medication. You know, for pain.”

  “Okay.”

  Shelly reached toward me like she was in a dramatic ballet.

  I stepped forward, but I wasn’t going to take her hand. I still stung from seeing her kiss Blake. “How did it go? When will you be back in class?” Where was Blake? Why was I being so civil?

  Her gaze and her arm drifted to her lap. “My foot is broken.”

  I paused with my jaw hanging open. “How awful. I’m sorry.” Shelly had injured herself plenty of times at home, but she’d never broken anything.

  “In two places.”

  “Sorry.” I widened my eyes and glanced at Amy. She stirred the contents of a tiny sleeve of lemonade mix into a water bottle.

  “Does it hurt? Are you leaving camp?”

  “The pain isn’t too bad right now. I have osteopenia. It means I don’t eat enough calcium, and my bones are thin.”

  “Bird bones.” Amy shook the water bottle. “Mrs. Sykes says she has bones like a tweety bird. Or an old lady. But she gets to stay at camp. Her mom said so.”

  “Can you reverse it?” I frowned.

  Amy jiggled a bottle of pills. “Calcium supplements twice a day. She’s got to eat yogurt and cheese. Junk like that.”

  Shelly grimaced and stuck out her tongue.

  “If you’re not going home, you can help Mrs. Sykes and Mrs. Ricardo. It would be fun to boss everybody around.” I was sorry about Shelly, but I was still confused why she wanted to see me. Maybe to apologize about Blake?

  “I’m going to help rehearse the new dancer for my performance solo. Mrs. Sykes told me what a great idea that was. I hope you think it’s a good idea, too.”

  “Sure.” I glanced at Amy as she chugged her lemonade. “Isn’t it a little late for someone to learn a whole new dance? I mean, we studied it in repertory, but we didn’t perfect it.”

  “Not all of us.” She drew a deep, irregular breath. “I asked Mrs. Sykes if you could replace me in the solo.”

  Her words echoed in my head. She was trying to make up for Blake, but Mrs. Sykes would never let me have the solo.

  “That’s nice of you.” My head spun.

  Amy tightened the cap on the water bottle and shook it some more. “Nice? Are you kidding?”

  At least Shelly asked for me to take her place. Or was this a test? “Who’s doing it for real?”

  Shelly squinted at me like I stood in a fog. “You. Mr. Jarenko agreed with me. Mrs. Sykes will let you know your rehearsal schedule.”

  I stepped back and melted onto Amy’s bed. “Me? I’m doing the waltz solo from Les Sylphides? Is this true?”

  Amy brought Shelly boxed chocolate milk. “I heard the whole thing. She’s telling the truth. Congratulations.”

  Shelly’s smile brightened her face. Then she yawned and snuggled down on her pillow.

  “Mrs. Sykes says she’ll be sleepy. Let her rest. We need to get to Labanotation or my name’s not Sam I Am.” Amy tossed the unfinished lemonade into the tiny refrigerator.

  I struggled to stand. I was going to dance the solo from Les Sylphides. Scouts from ballet companies were going to see me and maybe offer me a scholarship to their ballet school. Mom would be so proud. Grandma would watch me on DVD when I got home. Her spirits would soar, like the leaps in the solo, and she’d get better faster than any doctor had ever seen. And I could get back into the advanced ballet class where I belonged.

  Could I forgive Shelly for what she’d done with Blake? That was a separate issue. I regretted causing her so much grief years ago when I was a kid. I hadn’t hurt her on purpose. What Shelly did to me by kissing Blake was to devastate me. He wasn’t struggling too hard to get away, either.

  Shelly breathed deeply, one hand posed by her chin. She was Juliet, asleep on her bed. Minus Romeo. He was down the hall.

  “It’s awesome what Shelly’s done for you.” Amy gathered her notepad and booklet.

  “Awesome.” My head felt like it was filled with helium and bobbed on my shoulders.

  “Now you can quit Irish dance.” She plopped her bucket hat on her head and opened the door. “I heard you weren’t too excited to be in it. Except you got to dance with hottie Blake.”

  “I can do both.” I glided down the hall with her. I could probably fly if someone asked.

  “The rule is you can only perform in one piece, remember?”

  “This is different. I can’t let Mr. Sean down.” Although, he could revise his choreography without me. And not having to dance with that cheater Blake would be a bonus, but I wanted to do Irish dance as well, despite Blake. It felt right.

  “You need to do the ballet solo so we can have a balanced program.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “That’s what Mrs. Sykes said when she brought Shelly back to our room. Mrs. Sykes agreed she had to find a replacement for Shelly’s piece so there’d be a balanced program between ballet and other dances. Like this.” She posed in first-arabesque relevé, raised on the ball of her right foot with her left leg straight behind her while tapping both elevator buttons like a bird peeking seeds.

  Balance, I got it. “I don’t want to give up Irish dance.”

  Amy adjusted her hat. “Not even for the solo? Shelly told me you wanted the solo all along.”

  They had to let me dance in both. That was the only solution. “It’ll work out.” It had to. I had the waltz solo, but I wanted everything. I wanted to do the Irish dance too. My next step was to convince Mrs. Sykes to let me dance in both.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  After Candace fretted about Shelly’s injury, she hugged me whe
n she heard the news. “Wait till your mother and granny see you dance. They’ll be so proud.”

  I sighed as I pictured Mom’s face shining from the audience.

  Danilo knocked and waited in the doorway.

  “We’d better hurry.” Candace flitted around the room. “You can tell me more after class.”

  “Here I come.” When I gathered my Labanotation papers in my dance bag from my end table, I knocked my flute to the floor and gasped. “I’ll meet you downstairs. I need to check I didn’t break a spring.”

  I clicked open the flute case after Candace and Danilo left. I hadn’t played it since the day after the thunderstorm. I’d been so worried about Blake and Grandma. I examined the springs attached to the keys. They were in good shape but blurry. A tear dripped onto the shiny silver. I quickly wiped it away with the end of my shirt.

  When Blake had appeared in the studio after he’d decided not to take Shelly’s offer and dance with her instead of with Mr. Sean’s troupe, my year was complete. So I’d thought. It was going to be so hard to dance close to him after what he and Shelly did in the other studio. I had to get my mind off them. I put the flute back in its velvety case and hummed The Butterfly, an Irish slip jig. It played in my head as I raced after Candace and Danilo. Other songs like the reel Cup of Tea and another slip jig Hunting the Hare kept me company through the rest of the day.

  Later in the cafeteria at supper, after I’d put my tray on our table, Mrs. Sykes waved me to the directors’ table and handed me a paper with times and dates. “Congratulations. Mr. Jarenko supports Shelly’s suggestion you replace her. And I…” She coughed. “…concur.”

  My feet barely touched the floor, and my happy cheeks hurt from overuse. “Thanks.” High-five self.

  “Keep your rehearsal schedule in a safe place.”

  I squinted at the paper. “I’m sorry, I have Irish dance rehearsal and class at these same times. What other times can we meet?”

  Her mouth dropped open like I’d dumped the salt and pepper shakers on her head and squeezed the ketchup over it all as a crown for good measure.