by Sandy Green
She sat straighter. “Irish dance was a minor course we added to expose our ballet dancers to other movement arts. It’s a folk art, something the peasants did in villages for entertainment purposes primarily. Not a rigorous form like ballet.” She spread her palms. “There’s no emotion in it.”
My mouth drooped. Tell my aching muscles and sweaty workout clothes Irish dance wasn’t as rigorous as ballet. And the emotional part? We expressed joy, hope, and sorrow as we danced in class and rehearsal. It was a beautiful, rich art form. I studied Mrs. Sykes’ face for any signs Mom had suddenly possessed her.
“I’ve already informed Mr. Sean you won’t be dancing in his piece.”
Mrs. Ricardo stared at her plate, silently munching meatloaf.
My heart had officially left my body. Was Mr. Sean another person to avoid? Focus. This was my chance. I finally got what Mom and Grandma expected of me.
I stood tall. “When do we start rehearsal?”
She tapped the sheet. “Tonight. Please be prompt.”
“No problem.” I gripped the edge of the table.
Mrs. Ricardo put her fork down. “This is a great opportunity. Well deserved.”
I mouthed, “Thanks,” but I didn’t hear myself speak. I drifted past tables. Some of the little girls in Irish dance glared at me. Blake threw his napkin on the table and crossed his arms as if they were an iron barrier.
I hurried to sit next to Candace. My tacos were cold so I pushed my plate aside. Around the edges of the conversation, Dira told me I’d have to get fitted for my costume. Nicki bubbled on about a new boy she’d met hiding in a computer lab. Candace chatted to Danilo, who pulled his gaze from her long enough to shake his head at me.
Was Danilo making a comment about Candace’s chattiness, that I was a loser for not having it out with Blake or was he telling me something else?
I squirmed in my chair like it buzzed with electricity and avoided his eyes until we left.
At seven-thirty, when I stepped out of the elevator on the studio level, Irish and classical music drifted into the hall and wrestled in my mind. I pulled the photo of Grandma from a pocket in the front of my dance bag. Her face was wistful. Like Blake’s face in rehearsal. Tiny wings peeked from her shoulders. Her hands were crossed and framed her face as her white costume fluffed around her ankles. “Here goes, Grandma. Wish me luck.” I slid the picture back, hitched my dance bag higher on my shoulder and strode into the studio.
Shelly sat on one chair with her leg in a medical boot propped on another and her crutches on the floor. Mrs. Chin lifted her fingers from the piano keys, while Mrs. Sykes glanced at her watch and pulled off her glasses.
“Right.” She cradled her glasses in her hands. “Take a few minutes to warm up and we’ll get to work.”
I inhaled deeply and pressed my sandaled feet to the floor, conscious of the triangle of toe mounds and heel the modern dance teacher emphasized. A connection to the floor and to the earth. Afraid the gravity ballet dancers fought so hard against would loosen, and I’d drift to the ceiling.
“I’m sorry.” I exhaled and lifted my chin. “I appreciate being given the chance to dance the solo, but I’ve decided to stay in Irish dance. I love it. I want to thank you for introducing it to me. It’s like a dream come true.”
One side of Shelly’s mouth raised in a smile. Her big eyes grew bigger.
Mrs. Sykes’ mouth plunged to her chest, as her stare shot into me like twin spears. “You’re not serious?”
I lifted my chin. “I am.”
Mrs. Chin hid her grin with her hand.
Mrs. Sykes’ voiced every syllable like a robot. “That’s ridiculous.”
Shelly rolled her eyes from me to Mrs. Sykes. When Mrs. Sykes glanced at Shelly, Shelly’s smile fell from her face, and she shook her head.
“I can’t force you to dance the piece. I’m disappointed in you.” Mrs. Sykes’ frown lines deepened.
Shelly gave me a thumbs-up. Was she cheering me on? Or celebrating because her trick with Blake finally made me lose my mind?
“You’re throwing away a great opportunity.” Mrs. Sykes scowled. “And letting down the ballet dancers who have worked so hard to make a wonderful performance.”
What about letting down the Irish dancers and Mr. Sean? For the first time, I was dancing for myself. Not for Mom or Grandma. Although they wanted the best for me, they’d never asked what I wanted. I certainly wasn’t dancing for stupid Blake. I pivoted and left.
If you’re not following your dreams, whose dreams are you following?
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Mr. Sean paced the floor in the studio, stroking his chin. All the munchkins, plus Blake, clasped the barres at their emergency rehearsal. Their eyes were glued to every movement Mr. Sean made as he re-choreographed the piece.
Lindy and I locked eyes in the mirror. As she gasped, some of the other girls saw me.
I tapped on the door frame, letting my dance bag slide to the floor. “Excuse me. Mr. Sean?”
He jerked his head up. “Shouldn’t you be at rehearsal?”
“I am.” Sorry, Mom.
Blake tossed his towel around his neck and yanked on the ends. Megan’s face was locked in a scowl, but Lindy glowed.
“What do you mean?” Mr. Sean’s brows peaked on his forehead. “You have a scheduling conflict when you switched to Shelly’s solo.”
A door slammed down the hall.
“I told Mrs. Sykes I wanted to do the Irish dance instead. I’m sorry if I caused any problems, but this is the dance I want to perform. If that’s still okay with you.” My hands fluttered, and I hid them behind me.
Mr. Sean stared. He beamed. “Of course. This style of dance is made for you.” He swept his arm toward the back of the room. “Let’s rehearse.” He clapped his hands and hurried to the CD player.
Lindy squeezed my arm as I moved into place beside Blake. Even Megan relaxed as she settled in front of Blake and me.
“I know you’re not back here because of me,” he grumbled as he slipped his arm around my waist and drew me close.
I dropped my gaze to the floor and placed my hand on his shoulder, wanting to gnaw my fingertips off. Don’t be weak. Have some pride. I deserve more than being used by a cheater.
The music started, and Mr. Sean did his arm-raising thing, which signified the curtain going up. As we posed, I held my breath, afraid I’d inhale Blake’s cologne and beg him to forgive whatever I’d done to send him into Shelly’s arms. I must’ve been hallucinating. I bit my lip. How could I have stood up to Mrs. Sykes five minutes ago and be so weak now?
Blake danced his solo and then came around to bring me back on stage. I took his arm, and he covered my hand with his free one. That was new. If he were trying to break me down, it wouldn’t work.
Mr. Sean had us repeat segments, getting transitions right, making sure we were in the right spots. As Blake and I waited for him to go over a tricky part with the corps, Blake inched over to me. “Please, tell me. What did I do? Why are you mad at me?”
I pretended I was deaf.
He scrunched up his eyes. “Didn’t you think I deserve to at least know why?”
Don’t you think to keep your lips to yourself? Was he so dense?
“That’s good for today.” Mr. Sean stopped the music. “Get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll have a quick costume fitting in class. Dress rehearsal is Friday and the performance is Saturday afternoon.” He clapped for us. “Good job, everybody.”
The munchkins giggled and rushed out.
Mr. Sean gave me a sheet of flute music his friend had written for our piece. “This is part of the prelude to the dance we’re doing. Megan let me know you played flute for her and the others and said you were great.”
“Megan said I was great?”
He nodded. “Playing the flute. She still has reservations about your dance technique.” He laughed. “Don’t worry. I don’t have any.” He tapped the score. “Would you like to have a go at playing it?
Sorry it’s short notice. It’s only a few measures and then it repeats.”
I took the sheet. “I’ll try.”
“I’d like to incorporate it into our performance.”
Play my flute and do Irish dance? I was turning Irish. Mom would freak.
Mr. Sean focused on Blake. “You’ll need to wear your black jazz pants. I’ll get you a loose white shirt in a size medium. Okay?”
While Mr. Sean talked to Blake, I grabbed my dance bag and left. No way was I going to confront Blake. I didn’t care what he had to say and didn’t want to hear a lame excuse.
I took the stairs to the lobby and caught the elevator to the fourteenth floor. I was ready to talk to Shelly. Was she ready to listen to me?
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Shelly and Amy’s door was ajar. I poked my head in the empty room.
“They’re in the TV room on the lobby level.”
I jumped. Had Jupiter known about Blake and Shelly?
I pulled the door shut. “Thanks.” I stepped away with my head down.
Jupiter touched my arm. “Wait. Why’d you guys break up?”
“I can’t say. I have to go.”
“Blake’s miserable.”
Not half as miserable as I was. No way was I going to confront Shelly in the TV room in front of an audience. She had a long day and probably loved the attention she was getting. I fled to the stairs and climbed one flight to the fifteenth floor. I dumped my dance bag on the desk in my room, and all my energy drained out of my toes. It was too late to have another confrontation with Shelly. I picked up my flute and the music Mr. Sean gave me. Maybe a run-through would perk me up?
As for Shelly, I’d see her tomorrow. I had to finally settle this with her.
****
After lunch on Thursday, I helped Shelly to the lobby TV room. She sat on the same sofa Mr. Jarenko had placed her on yesterday. Was it only yesterday?
She pumped her arms. “These crutches are a great workout.”
I pulled a chair close to her and took a deep breath.
Shelly glowed. Must’ve been all that milk and cheese. “I’m glad we had it out the other day. I shouldn’t have been mad at you all those years.”
You’re good.
“It’s like keeping poison inside. Never keep negative feelings secret. Get them out.” She straightened her T-shirt. “I feel so much better.”
Especially after kissing Blake. I knew the feeling. Once.
She tightened the top strap on her gray boot. “That was some performance with Mrs. Sykes yesterday. I guess you want to talk to me about what she said after you left.” She slid her eyes at me sideways.
“Not really.” I straightened my shorts, not ready to plunge in and confront her. “How’s the cast?”
She tightened the other straps. “Not too bad. It’s removable, you know, so I can do therapy in the pool. I’m scheduled this afternoon.”
“Was your mom freaked out when you told her?” How can I be so calm when I want to knock her in the head with her crutches?
“Yeah, but I’ve already been working with the therapist for my ankle and back pain.”
“I didn’t know that.” I tapped the floor with my toes.
She stroked her ponytail and flicked it behind her shoulder. “What’s bugging you? You’re acting stranger than usual.”
Bugging me? How about what’s ripping my insides out?
She leaned against the cushions and pursed her lips. “And what’s with you and Blake? You’re like hot and cold.”
My face flushed, and my throat tightened. “We broke up after I saw him with you in the studio on Sunday.”
“What? I don’t remember talking to Blake on Sunday.”
“In the afternoon around four. You were rehearsing your solo. I saw the two of you in there making out. Thanks for truly making my life miserable.”
She shook her head. “You’re wrong.”
“Of course.” I slapped my thighs. “I’m always wrong, according to you. You decide to punish me for something stupid I did when I was eight because you have to hold a grudge for a gazillion years. Congratulations.” Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“I rehearsed early when you, Blake, and those obnoxious girls did your Irish dance thing. Then I had a costume fitting. Sorry, but I can’t be in two places at the same time.”
I shifted my gaze from her left eye to her right. Why couldn’t I be one of those people who could tell if someone was lying? But I’d seen her in the studio wrapped around Blake.
“Ask Dira. I was in a conference room with her trying on costumes.”
I let the poison out, according to Shelly, but it didn’t help. My head swirled with confusion. I hadn’t imagined seeing Shelly and Blake together.
Shelly pushed herself off the sofa and grabbed her crutches. “I don’t know who you saw with your boyfriend, but it wasn’t me. I believe you’re sorry and didn’t mean to hurt me when we were little. I’m finished torturing you and your friends.” She stood on her good leg and swung off out of the room. Her ponytail trailed down her slender back. I had to ask Dira. If Shelly were with Dira, then who was with Blake?
Would it matter? Blake was a cheater. If I hadn’t seen it, I never would have believed it. Now I was obsessed with finding out.
Chapter Sixty
I pulled Dira aside before Candace and I went to ballet class with Mme. Petrova and asked her about being on the directors’ floor on Sunday.
“The costume fitting? Yes, Shelly was with me. Our costumes are similar, except she has wings and I have this sort of tulle collar.”
“Thanks.” I dashed off.
“Where are you going?”
In the ballet studio, I hurriedly pulled on my ballet slippers and a short, filmy dance skirt as I told Candace Blake wasn’t with Shelly.
“I’m glad it wasn’t Shelly who was with him, but that doesn’t change the fact he cheated on you.” She eyed Blake who stretched in the corner with the other boys. “Who was it then?”
I bit my lip. “I could ask him.”
“Maybe you should.”
“I will.” Unless I lost my nerve.
With only two days left of dance camp, Mme. Petrova worked us doubly hard. I mopped my face as class ended.
“When will you talk to Blake?” Candace dabbed her neck with a towel.
My heart tugged as he flew out of the studio. “Later, I guess. Maybe after rehearsal tonight.”
“I’ll be thinking of you.” Her mouth pouted.
We left to take showers before a music appreciation class. No matter how much water I drenched myself in, it couldn’t wash away the sadness and anger toward him.
I dreaded the evening rehearsal so much when I got on the elevator, I was already ten minutes late. I joined Tiffany, Olivia, and a couple of computer guys.
“Hi.” I passed them and moved to the back.
Tiffany sneered down her long nose at me then watched the floor numbers above the door. Olivia wiggled her fingers in a wave as she clutched her dance bag.
The boys got out at the lobby level, and I rested against the back wall. We continued to the studio level.
“Why aren’t you dancing the waltz solo?” Olivia asked me.
I blinked. She knew who I was? “I like Irish dance. I’d never done it before. It’s a lot of fun.”
Her head bobbed. “A bunch of girls in my high school do Irish dance. I want them to teach me.”
The doors slid open. Olivia said good-bye and hurried down the hall. Tiffany left the other way. Her dark ponytail swung across her slim back, and a chill shivered down my arms.
I gasped. “It was you with Blake the other day.”
Tiffany threw a glance over her shoulder and laughed.
“What’s your problem?” I called to her.
She pivoted and walked backward. “I don’t have a problem. Ask your boyfriend.” Her smile disappeared beneath the shadow from her nose.
Jupiter stepped into the hall from the far stu
dio. “Hurry up, Tiffany, I don’t want to be here all night.”
I rushed up to her but stopped like an invisible barrier kept me away. “Why?”
Jupiter tossed his caps inside the door. “Why what?”
I followed Tiffany to the studio. “On Sunday, I saw Tiffany making out with Blake.”
“What?” Jupiter scrunched up his face. “You must’ve come on to him.”
She sat on the floor and unzipped her dance bag. “So? He liked it.” She carefully wrapped the pink satin ribbons around her ankle.
Jupiter slammed his hand on the barre. “If he liked it so much, why is he miserable about Kit breaking up with him?”
She shrugged.
“Blake never told me about Tiffany. Is that why you broke up with him?” Jupiter asked me.
“I saw them together. I figured Shelly was practicing and peeked in the studio. Tiffany and Shelly look alike from the back. I thought it was Shelly with Blake.”
He shook his head. “Blake rehearsed with Tiffany because I was too sore. He’d never kiss Tiffany unless she forced herself on him. Believe me, we’ve talked about stuff like that.”
“Still here.” She shot him death daggers from her eyes.
I clasped my hand over my mouth. I was such an idiot. I’d ruined any chance with Blake because I didn’t trust him. “I told him I wanted a clean break because we’d never see each other after camp. That wasn’t true.”
“He probably didn’t want to hurt you and tell you what happened.” Jupiter reached out his hand as though he was going to wring her neck. “It wasn’t worth it.”
“What do I do about Blake? I can’t believe I was so stupid. I can’t face him.” The room tilted.
“You’re a piece of work, Tiffany.” Jupiter’s faced matched his red hair. “You’re lucky I don’t drop you on your head onstage.”
I clutched my dance bag. “What have I done? How can I fix this?”
Jupiter turned me around by my shoulders and pushed me out the door. “Go see him. Now.”
Chapter Sixty-One
I shuffled to the door of the studio where we practiced Irish dance. From the sound of the music, Megan was rehearsing Blake in his solo. Now would be a good time to have my cell phone where I could text my stupidity and not have to see Blake’s face when he told me to go away.