I Forgot to Tell You

by Charis Marsh

  Dimitri came in, late as usual, and made a place for himself between Taylor and Mao, even though there wasn’t really any room. Taylor ignored that and shifted a little closer to Aiko.

  A bang of the door signalled the entrance of Mr. Yu, bringing energy and emotion into the half-awake room. Everybody started at the sudden noise, and slowly began to rise from their stretching positions, or take out their iPod headphones, or shed warm-up clothing. Taylor took off her down-filled warm-up boots and put her iPod inside them. “Very romantic,” Mr. Yu said sarcastically, referring to the atmosphere. He flicked on the overhead lights.

  Taylor winced, automatically covering her eyes from the harsh light.

  Mr. Yu walked over to the barre and bent his back over it, cracking it with a sigh of relief. The sound of so many bones in his body cracking at once made a loud noise in the quiet room. “Good,” Mr. Yu said. “Keep me young.” He signalled to George, who was behind the piano already, and hummed the general tune that he wanted. George began to play something utterly different, and Mr. Yu began to give the first exercise: “And breathe. Rise uppppp …. And dowwwwwwn … and uuuuuppp … and hold.” He looked over at Taylor and hit her in the butt. “Squeeze and rotate! Don’t make soft!” He moved down the barre, handing out corrections verbally and physically. He didn’t notice that Andrew was there until he had almost finished his round. Throughout the exercise, they’d all been sneaking glances over at Andrew, waiting for Mr. Yu to spot him. Mr. Yu stood beside Andrew, a frown on his face as he tried to comprehend what his former student was doing there. Andrew kept his head moving with his port de bras, his lip twitching with the effort to keep a straight face. “You!”

  Andrew kept working, pretending not to hear, and then suddenly looked up, gave a fake start of surprise. “Mr. Yu! Didn’t see you there!”

  Mr. Yu started laughing, shaking his head. He gave Andrew a hug. “Long time no see,” he said stiffly, the expression right but unnatural on his tongue. “How long you back?”

  “A week.”

  “Then go back to work?”

  “Yup.”

  Taylor could feel sweat begin to bead down her back by tendues, and she started to remove the last of her warm-up clothes. Mr. Yu snapped at Mao as she tried to rotate from an arabesque to a develope devant. “Why you still jerk?” he asked, referring to the hip shift she made as her leg moved from the back to the front. “How old you now?”

  Mao looked up. “Seventeen.”

  “Too old! Too old have hip shift, way too old.”

  Taylor instinctively moved a bit back from Mao on the barre as Mr. Yu stayed close to them, watching Mao carefully. Taylor knew that he cared about how good Mao was more than he normally would because she homestayed with him. He didn’t want anyone in his homestay to be doing badly.

  Finally Mr. Yu snapped and yelled, “Stop!” across the room to George. George took his hands off the piano keys, raising his palms up in the classic gesture of surrender. As the last notes died away, Mr. Yu turned to Mao. “Why you no improve? Why you not better?”

  Mao was quiet, confused.

  Mr. Yu shook his head disgustedly. “If you not improve, why I teach? For fun? You still the same as when you come to Academy. Same mistakes.” He looked at her. The whole class was watching them, some concerned, some entertained, some bored. “When you come to Canada from Japan?”

  “When?” Mao asked, making sure of the question, nervousness making her English weak.

  “Yes, when! What, you deaf, too?”

  Mao shook her head.

  “Do it again.” Mao tried again, but made the same hip shift. Her muscles weren’t strong enough to make it around smoothly. Mr. Yu expelled a breath of air, disgusted. “Get out.”

  Mao looked at him, confused.

  Mr. Yu pointed at the door. “There door. Out. You don’t listen, don’t improve, go out, have fun. Go.”

  Mao stayed at the barre, not moving.

  Mr. Yu glared at her. “Why you not go? Go!”

  Mao didn’t move.

  “Okay, you no listen to me? Fine. I leave.” He walked toward the door, and at the doorway he turned around, staring at the class. “Class finished. Thank Mao.” He walked out the door.

  Everyone stared at Mao, who looked like she was going to cry.

  “Uh —” Andrew spoke up. Everyone turned to look at him. He turned to George. “Can I have some frappe music, George?” he asked.

  George nodded and played a few chords. “That good for you, Andy?”

  “Perfect.” Andrew turned toward the barre and began directing a frappe exercise. “And one, two, three … and one, two three. Rise, fondue, out — pirouette! To the side. And one, two, three …”

  Taylor looked over at Mao, standing in front of her. She was marking the exercise, watching Andrew carefully, and looked much calmer. Taylor began to learn the exercise.

  After class, Taylor went downstairs to change into her uniform. As she came out of the stall, she saw Mao standing next to her locker, fumbling with the lock. She looked like she’d been crying. Taylor paused, waiting to see if she was all right. Mao looked up and saw her. “Oh! Taylor. I’m sorry for ruining class.”

  “You didn’t ruin class, Mao,” Taylor assured her. “I’m glad Andrew taught us. It was fun. Are you okay?”

  Mao nodded, and quickly became very interested in searching for something in her locker, so Taylor left her and went upstairs.

  Mr. Demidovski was sitting in the hallway watching a younger class practise, as he did occasionally. He had a small smile on his face, and kept glancing proudly over the lobby, like a king surveying his kingdom. “Taylor,” he said, nodding at her. “How are youuuu?”

  “Good,” Taylor said, smiling. “How are you, Mr. Demidovski?”

  “Look,” Mr. Demidovski said, pointing through the open door to the studio. “See Michael, see Chloe — they are getting much better.”

  Taylor nodded, biting her lip as she watched. They weren’t really that much younger than her, Michael was twelve and Chloe was eleven, and watching younger people that were better than she was at their age always made her feel a little sick. Mr. Demidovski lightly grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. She leaned in. “Mr. Demidovski want you to learn Swanhilda,” he whispered. He let her go and said in a normal voice, “Yes?”

  Taylor nodded, very quickly. She was confused. Did this mean that he might be considering having her dance Swanhilda? That couldn’t be true.

  “Shush,” Mr. Demidovski said, putting his finger to his lips. “Don’t tell.” He looked around the lobby at all the other dancers scattered around out of earshot, and then back at Taylor. He nodded meaningfully.

  “Yes.”

  Mr. Demidovski got up with a fair bit of effort and walked slowly down the hall, back to the office. Taylor went to class, her brain buzzing with what he had said.

  Taylor ran all the way from the bus stop up to her house, and straight to her room. She opened up her laptop and carried it to her bed, going onto YouTube and searching “Swanhilda variation.” Charlize came up to her room, confused. “Are you all right, Taylor? What happened?”

  “I’m good,” Taylor said impatiently.

  “What are you doing?” Charlize asked, folding her arms.

  “Watching Natalia Osipova do the Coppelia Act 1 variation,” Taylor answered. “Okay?”

  “Why was that so urgent that you couldn’t be bothered taking off your shoes?”

  Taylor looked away from her screen and down at her feet. Uh oh. “Um — today Mr. Demidovski said something very weird and strange, but maybe good?” Taylor muted the volume on the video.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said that he wanted me to learn Swanhilda.” Taylor looked up at her mother, hoping that she would be able to illuminate Mr. Demidovski’s vague statement.

  She was out of luck. Charlize frowned and shook her head, just as confused. “What is that supposed to mean? Learn Swanhilda for what? For competition?
Does he actually want you to rehearse it for Coppelia this year? What else did he say?”

  Taylor shrugged. “That was it. I don’t know what he meant. Oh, and then he told me not to tell anyone.”

  Charlize blinked. “That’s not strange at all. What are you doing then?”

  “I’m just going to try and learn all the Swanhilda variations tonight. I basically know them, but I want to actually know them.”

  Charlize shook her head. “Okay. That seems like a good idea. I don’t know what else you could be doing. Dinner in an hour. And could you please get started on your online school work? I know Mr. Briggs told you to take a break from school, but that doesn’t mean that you should be doing nothing. If you don’t use your brain, it doesn’t get developed, and you never get any smarter.”

  “Okay, okay,” Taylor said, not listening. She kept her finger hovering over the mute button until Charlize had finished talking, and then started the video again from the beginning. Natalia was so great. Okay, time to learn this. She started going through it, stopping the video every few seconds to make sure she was doing it right. She hoped this was the right version; she thought it was, but she couldn’t remember exactly which version Grace and Alexandra had been rehearsing.

  Alison came in and sat in the bed. “What are you learning?”

  “Swanhilda. Go away.”

  “Is that the one with the doll that the boy falls in love with and then they’re all mean to the old man who makes the doll?”

  “Yes.”

  Alison watched Taylor mark the steps in the small clear space in her room for a bit, keeping very quiet. “Taylor, you’re pretty.”

  “Thanks.” Taylor sighed. It was always a bit hard to learn things from YouTube, because it was like learning from a mirror image, so she had to keep going back to make sure she was going in the right direction.

  “I wish I was as pretty as you.”

  Taylor stopped, shocked. “What?”

  Alison shrugged, looking sad. “You look like Mom, and I look like Dad. I wish I looked like Mom instead.”

  Taylor jumped on the bed beside her sister, nearly knocking her laptop to the ground, and wrapped her arms around her. “Alison, I think you’re pretty.”

  “All my friends say that you’re prettier than me, and then they ask why I’m not pretty.”

  Taylor looked down at the back of her sister’s head and hugged her. She didn’t know what to say. “I’m not prettier than you,” she said slowly, “we just look different.”

  “Okay,” Alison said, moving out of Taylor’s arms. She obviously didn’t believe Taylor.

  “Um, Ali, I really have to learn this for tomorrow.”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll go.” Alison jumped off the bed and left, closing Taylor’s door behind her. Taylor drew a deep breath in and then exhaled. Okay, focus, Taylor. Learn this. She began going through the first part of the first act variation again.

  Chapter Five

  Alexandra Dunstan

  Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are. Kurt Cobain <3

  Alexandra sat on the living room floor, bodysuits laid out around her.

  Beth came hurrying through the hallway, passed the open door, and then walked back. “What are you doing, Alexandra?”

  Alexandra looked up. “Going through my bodysuits. I wanted to adjust a few of them.” She looked down at the wine-coloured one in her lap. “I wanted to maybe sew this one in the front, put a gather in?”

  Beth looked around the room. “Could you please do this in your room?”

  “Uh, okay — why?”

  “We have guests coming over.” Beth looked toward the door.

  Alexandra began hurriedly gathering up the bodysuits. “Okay. Who?”

  “Justin’s bringing his girlfriend over.”

  “Oh.” Alexandra slowed down, gathering up her bodysuits.

  Beth came into the living room and sat down on the couch. “It’s Anna.”

  “Anna?” Alexandra looked up a Beth, confused. “Her name is Anna?”

  “Yes. He’s dating Anna Valarao.”

  Alexandra stared at her mother, her mouth actually dropping from shock. “What? No! He cannot date Anna Valarao! That is not okay! You told him that it’s not okay, right?”

  “I can’t tell him that, Alexandra,” Beth said, annoyed. “He can decide on his own who he wants to date, and so far she seems to be good for him. She’s better than that Bridget.” The way Beth said “Bridget” made the name have twice the syllables it ought to have had, and gave it a significance normally reserved for the name “Jezebel.”

  “But it’s Anna!”

  Beth shrugged. “If it bothers you that much, then you can discuss it with Justin.” She stood up. “But please move the bodysuits out of the living room.”

  Alexandra grabbed the bodysuits, ran up to her room and threw them on her bed, then ran to her brother’s room and knocked on his door. Realizing he wasn’t in his room, she called his cellphone.

  “Lexi. What’s up?”

  “Are you dating Anna Valarao?”

  “Uh — yes, I am … look, is that all you called to talk to me about, Lexi? Because this sort of isn’t a good time …”

  “You can’t date her!” Alexandra said. Her voice sounded a lot louder and higher-pitched than she had intended it to.

  “Um, Lexi, I’m hanging up now. By the way, she’s right beside me, and she could hear that.”

  Alexandra lost the connection, and she set the phone down on her bed. This was terrible. This was worse than terrible, this was awful. She ran downstairs, cornering her mother in the kitchen. “Is she coming for dinner?”

  “Yes. And no, you cannot skip dinner.”

  “That’s not what I wanted to ask. Can I invite someone over?”

  Beth considered. “I suppose that’s fair. As long as you are polite.” She rethought. “And as long as it isn’t Tristan.”

  “Why not Tristan?!”

  “I’m not stupid, Lexi. I do not want you and Tristan making that girl miserable while she is here. You need to put your differences aside. I think she might be good for Justin; he said that his GPA has gone up since he started dating her.”

  “Yeah, he said. Have you seen his transcript?”

  Beth didn’t bother answering Alexandra, instead focusing on the sauce she was making.

  “Okay, fine. I’ll invite someone else.”

  Alexandra went upstairs and went through her conversation list on her phone, trying to find someone who would make the night more bearable. Jessica? Definitely not. Grace? Uh, obviously not. Taylor (ew), Kaitlyn, Mao, Aiko, Emily … haven’t hung out with her in, like, a year, would be too weird. Kageki, Keiko … She gave up and started to look through her phonebook, through the people that she’d never even texted. Julian. Hmm. She paused, considering. There wasn’t that much time left to decide; it was already almost five o’ clock. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe …” Oh, whatever. She picked up the phone and called Julian.

  “Hey, Julian?”

  “Hey, Lexi … what’s up?” Julian sounded confused, and Alexandra didn’t blame him. She’d never called him before.

  ‘Hey, I’ve got like a massive favour to ask you. This is going to sound really weird …”

  “Okay …”

  “You know Anna?”

  “Um …”

  “Sorry, stupid question. She’s decided to date my brother.” Alexandra waited for Julian’s reaction on the other end of the line. All she got was silence. “Julian?”

  “Um, yeah — is this a good thing? Or a bad thing?”

  “It’s a bad thing!”

  More silence. “Why?”

  Alexandra held the phone away for herself for a moment. “Ugh!” She put the phone back up to her ear. “It just is. Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to come to dinner. Anna’s coming over, and I just know it’s going to be super awkward.”

  “Things are only as awkward as you make them.”

  “
Not helping, Julian. Can you come?”

  “Um, tonight?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I’ve got some homework I really need to do, but …”

  “You can do it here. I’ll go ask my mom if we can go pick you up. Phone you when we’re at your house.”

  “Okay, do you even know where I live?”

  “Of course. Everyone knows where Mr. Yu lives. Bye.” Alexandra hung up on Julian and ran back downstairs to where her mother was. “Mom, can you please drive me to pick up Julian? He lives in Mr. Yu’s homestay.”

  Beth stared at her. “Lexi, are you insane? Mr. Yu lives way too far away, and I am in the middle of cooking dinner!”

  “Mom, please! Come on, you’re letting Justin date Anna, and Julian can’t bus here, it’s way too far and the buses are stupid.”

  Justin appeared in the kitchen door. “So what are you planning now, oh crazy, rude, annoying, idiotic sister of mine?”

  “I hate you, Justin.” Alexandra turned back to her mother. “Please? If have to go to this stupid dinner, then I get to have someone over, too. It’s not fair.”

  “Oh no, you don’t,” Justin interjected quickly. “You are not inviting Tristan over. I’ve heard you two talking about Anna together, and you’re enough of a bitch on your own.”

  “Language, Justin,” Beth said automatically, putting the chicken in the oven. “And I already told her she couldn’t invite Tristan, don’t worry. Now she wants me to drive all the way into Vancouver, to the east side, to pick up that new boy.”

  “Who?”

  “Julian,” Alexandra interrupted, her voice pitching into a whine. “You have to, Mom, otherwise it’s not fair.”

  “I remember Julian,” Justin said, thinking. “You know what? Go get your coat; I’ll drive you to pick him up.”

  Alexandra stared at him. “Really?”

  “Yes. I like him; he seemed like a good kid.”