by Charis Marsh
Mr. Demidovski looked out at them. “First cast should be Dimitri. Second, should be Tristan. Understudy, should be Jonathon. Sorry to Kageki, you are too short.” Mr. Demidovski did look genuinely sorry when he said that — Kageki was far too short to partner any of the girls that Mr. Demidovski had listed.
Mr. Moretti looked mad. He bent down and whispered into Mr. Demidovski’s ear, but Alexandra was too far away to hear what they were saying. Beside her, Julian was slumped, looking at the floor. “Julian,” Alexandra whispered.
“What?” Julian sounded as if he was trying very hard to sound normal, but his voice came out squeaky.
“Look up.” Julian raised his head from his knees. Mr. Moretti was still arguing with Mr. Demidovski. “What — or who — do you think that they are most likely to be arguing about?”
Julian’s face lit up, and then fell again. “Mr. Moretti doesn’t even like me,” he protested.
“I think he might,” Alexandra argued.
“Okay, okay, Mr. Demidovski has to go. Please have a good dress rehearsal. Mr. Yu!” Mr. Demidovski waved his hand and Mr. Yu suddenly came alive again. “Come on, come on, everybody to places for first act, we rehearse first cast,” he shouted, driving Mr. Moretti off the stage by sheer volume and energy. “Come on, come on!”
Julian sprang to his feet and reached out his hand to pull Alexandra up.
“Julian!” Taylor said, running over. “Did you see, did you see? I got understudy! Omigod, I am so happy!”
“Yeah. Congratulations.” Julian’s voice was strangely flat, but Taylor didn’t seem to notice, hugging him anyway. Alexandra watched the two of them, frowning slightly. Their friendship got on her nerves. She couldn’t say why, but she didn’t like it; it annoyed her.
Grace came up, smiling, and gave Alexandra a hug. “Swanhilda buddies!”
“Yeah!”
Alexandra smiled. It was kind of nice to have Anna out of the picture, and now that they had both been cast as Swanhilda, maybe they could go back to being friends again. “Do you want to run through it once with me while Mr. Yu is rehearsing Villagers?”
“I would totally love to help you learn the steps,” Grace assured her, “but I have to go find my mom, she said she was going to be bringing my lunch.”
Alexandra stared after her, and made a face.
Tristan came up behind her. “Did you just stick your tongue out at Grace?”
“Yes, Tris, I asked her if she wanted to rehearse with me, and she twisted it around so it was like I was asking her to teach it to me.”
“Oh. Kk, you have to come and help, though, Mr. Yu wants us to move the curtains over here before the camera crew comes.”
“What camera crew?”
“Mr. Demidovski invited media people to watch us.”
“But we’re not remotely ready!”
“I don’t think that occurred to Mr. Demidovski. Don’t worry, everything will be fine. If anything goes wrong, just smile, they won’t notice anything.”
“Ready, light on. Left,” Mr. Yu said into his headpiece, his accent sounding stronger through the crackles on the mike. Alexandra had the greatest sympathy for the backstage crew; she was not entirely sure how they managed to interpret his commands. Her theory was that they probably just guessed.
Mr. Yu turned to Alexandra. “Ready?” he asked.
Alexandra nodded, smiling.
“Good.” Mr. Yu hugged her with one arm. “Be good.” Alexandra nodded again, and went to the wing that she was supposed to come out of. There was a reason that Mr. Yu was one of her favourite teachers. He might act like a six-year-old, but he also felt like one of them. He was basically the antithesis of Mr. Moretti’s cold removal. Alexandra waited in the wings, testing out her feet. The tendons felt warm, loose, and flexible. She breathed in, expanding her chest against the tight bodice of her costume, and letting the air out again. She really loved this kind of costume. It reminded her of the Cinderella costume she’d worn for Halloween when she was four, and five, and six — when she was seven her mother had told her that she had lost it, but now that she was sixteen, Alexandra had her suspicions. Her foot felt really loose. She wiggled it around a bit, and was rewarded with a sharp stabbing pain. Agh. She just had to suck it up for this run-through, and then she would go home and ice it.
Alexandra limped on her way out of the studio. She could feel her foot getting cold and tightening — it was going to hurt in the morning. Her cellphone went off, and she picked it up — it was Leah. “Hey …”
“Hey! Lexi, so glad I got ahold of you, I’ve been trying for the last two hours.”
“Sorry, I’ve been in rehearsal. We’re down at the Centre doing dress rehearsal for Coppelia.”
“Okay, okay … wait, so you’re downtown?”
“Yeah.”
“Go to the front of the theatre, I’ll pick you up.”
“Wait, what?”
“See you in five.”
Alexandra hung up on Leah, her favourite contemporary teacher. She had no idea what Leah could want, but whatever it was it was probably very interesting. She limped out to the front of the theatre and sat down on one of the large sand-coloured blocks of cement, watching for Leah’s car. There it is. Leah’s car was unmistakable, a low-slung, bright-red affair with stickers all over the back. Leah was fond of saying that understatement was for those who were afraid, and that philosophy apparently applied to her car, as well. Alexandra walked, or limped, out to the car and got in the front seat.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Leah demanded.
Alexandra shrugged. “It’s my ankle — it really hurts, I pulled or twisted something, I think.”
“But you got through dress rehearsal no problem, right?”
“Yeah — sort of — it hurts a lot more now that I’m cold.”
“Glove compartment. There’s got to be some Tylenol in there.”
Alexandra obediently began to dig around in the glove compartment, pulling out no fewer than six bottles of Tylenol, two of Advil, a couple packets of prescription painkillers, and a large bottle of Aleve.
“You plan on being in a lot of pain during the zombie apocalypse?” Alexandra asked dryly.
“Shut up and take some Tylenol. Put those bottles back,” Leah said testily. “Okay, so we’re going to Harbour — they’re casting some new pilot or whatever, anyway, they’re having an open call for contemporary dancers, and I thought you should audition.”
“Thanks,” Alexandra said, dismayed, “but I can barely walk.”
“Look at the clock,” Leah said impatiently. “You have half an hour, the pills will have kicked in by then. This business is not for people who make excuses, Alexandra. Besides, I doubt that they will want you to do much, I think it’s just for look.”
“Okay, okay, okay.” Alexandra swallowed two extra-strength Tylenol dry.
“I would’ve gone for the Aleve myself,” Leah said.
“I wouldn’t,” Alexandra said honestly. “I had some of that stuff when I was in the States during the summer; it really hit me for a loop.”
“That’s because you are too skinny,” Leah complained. She took one hand away from her steering wheel and hit Alexandra’s chest.
“Ow,” Alexandra complained.
“Women are supposed to have boobs, Alexandra.”
“Boobs are gross.”
“Have you even had your period yet?”
“Oh my freaking God, Leah! Please don’t say period. Like, ever. Ew.”
“I’m just asking. Somebody should be. Okay, get out — wait.” Leah parked and turned around, beginning to dig through a large pile of dance clothing and costumes in the back seat. “Here. I think these are Anna’s. She left them last time she came to take class, so they should fit you.” Leah handed Alexandra a pair of black shorts and a sports bra that had been gathered in the middle so that it curved down between the breasts like a normal bra.
“Okay. Thanks.”
“No problem. Pho
ne me when you are out, I’ll pick you up — you are in no state to walk.”
Alexandra gingerly got out of the car. “Or dance. I hope this kicks in soon.”
“Here. Take a bottle with you.” Leah handed her one of the bottles of Tylenol, and Alexandra began to slowly climb the many steps leading up to Harbour Dance Centre’s studios.
As Alexandra walked up she realized that she had forgotten to ask Leah what exactly she was auditioning for. Oh well. There can’t be too many auditions taking place on a Wednesday night at a drop-in dance centre. She walked up to the desk. “Heeeeey … I’m here for the audition?”
“Fill this out, hon.”
“Thanks.” Alexandra took the form with her into the bathroom and got changed, then filled it out. It didn’t say much — just that she was auditioning for Trident Dancer. She wondered if she should take her hair down or not. She looked at herself in the mirror. No, better just have it in a ponytail since she didn’t know what they would want her to do. She left the change room and went to the studio to wait, starting to stretch. It felt good to be auditioning for something that she didn’t feel any pressure about. If there were no expectations, then she didn’t have to feel bad if she didn’t get it. Plus, she thought as she watched the other dancers trickle into the room, it doesn’t look like anyone else is any good. Her body felt nice, tired but warm and stretched out. If it wasn’t for her foot, she’d feel perfect. She stood up and grand battemented her foot backwards, high above her head, letting her back sink down in the way that would get her so yelled at if she was in ballet class, but was so much fun to do. Down, and up, swinging her leg like the arm on an old grandfather clock.
She sat down, growing bored, and massaged her foot. The people walking in did not look like she had expected. Not like dancers, not like actors. She wasn’t quite sure how to classify them in her brain. A cross between? Actors who could dance? Dancers who could act? Whoever they were, they were wearing very little clothing. One of them, a pretty blonde who Alexandra thought she might have seen at a jazz class once, was wearing what looked like black underwear and a jean corset. Alexandra was glad that Leah had tossed her some clothing to wear; in her shorts and bra she was almost wearing too much for this audition.
A woman with dyed-blond hair walked in, obviously not auditioning — she was fully clothed and looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties. “Hey girls. Thanks for coming out. If you could all just give me your forms and head shots if you have them?”
Alexandra handed her form to the woman. She didn’t have a head shot with her. As she watched the pile stack up, she could see that she was probably the only person without one. Well, I didn’t know I was going to audition today. It’s not really that important … I hope.
“Okay, just want to give you some background,” the woman said, speaking quickly. “So, what is going to happen is you are the spirits of the trident. The hero who steals the trident is not paying attention, and so you come to him and pull his essence out.”
Sort of like the willis from Giselle, Alexandra thought to herself. Taking away his life force.
“So, we’re like, you know, sucking the guy’s, like, sex drive out of him?” a brunette in the front asked.
Alexandra’s eyebrows flew up higher than Charlie Chaplin’s. What? Where the frick did she get that from?
“Exactly,” the blond woman agreed.
Alexandra’s face fell. What the …?
“Now, I want you girls to all to learn a small section of the choreography, you can show it to me in groups, and then I want you to all freestyle it across the floor. Any questions? No? Okay, show me what you got.”
Alexandra started to learn the choreography, which was a form of burlesque dancing. When it was time to perform it, she went in the group with the blond corset-girl. She knew the choreography, it required no technique at all, but as she was dancing it she realized it was supposed to look completely different from the way she was doing it. She watched the blond girl in the mirror, and as she did, she considered just leaving the room. She was clearly not going to get this. She stayed, because it was an audition, and to leave an audition in the middle would be a bigger breach of protocol than she was capable of. Besides, she was curious. She had almost forgotten about her foot, she realized; the painkillers must have kicked in, either that or the audition was too entertaining to let her think about it.
Finally it was time to go across the floor, and Alexandra made sure that she was in a different group from the blond girl, so she could watch her. Alexandra started out trying to do the freestyle seriously, but a quarter of the way across the floor embarrassment kicked in and she did a series of extensions instead. If she wasn’t going to get the part, at least she could prove to everyone that she was a far better dancer than they were or were ever going to be. They all look a lot older than me, though.
“Okay, I think I’ve got who I want to call back for tomorrow,” the woman said, speaking quickly. She called out about ten names, and Alexandra’s wasn’t one of them. Alexandra wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She didn’t want it, but she never enjoyed not being picked. It was a very curious sort of mixed feeling: like when that person who always wants to hang out with you — that you don’t want to hang out with — stops calling. You still don’t want to hang out with them, but you miss being asked. Alexandra walked into the change room and started getting changed. The blond girl was also going to get changed, although she of course had been one of the ten.
“You looked good out there!” she said sweetly.
“Uh, thanks,” Alexandra said, not entirely sure what to say since she had clearly not been good out there. The obvious thing to do was to compliment the other girl, but she wasn’t sure how to do that without being rude. What am I supposed to say? You’d make a really good stripper? “I didn’t quite realize — like, I felt kind of out of place in there.”
“You looked good,” the girl said. “Well, like, a little awkward, but your extensions are fricking amazing!”
Alexandra laughed, softening up. The easiest way to make friends with Alexandra was to compliment her extensions: she was very proud of them. “Ballet can do that to you.”
“Ohhh, ballet girl. That explains it.”
“Yeah, at least I didn’t come to this audition with a bun in my hair, right?” Alexandra laughed.
The girl looked confused. “Yeah … that would have been … bad. I guess I’ll see you around.”
“For sure. Nice meeting you.” Alexandra fled the studio, going down the steps much faster than she had gone up them. She pulled out her cellphone. “Hey, Leah — I’m done.”
“I’m outside.”
Alexandra pushed open the door and entered the real world, or at least downtown Granville Street in the dark. She walked over to Leah’s car and got in.
“How was it? How’s your foot?”
“Oh my goddddd, Leah! It was like a fricking stripper audition, I swear! We were supposed to be like these spirit things, but then we were like supposed to suck the —” Alexandra made air quotations with her hands “— sex drive out of this dude? Like, seriously, wtf?”
“Well, how did you do?” Leah asked calmly.
“Horribly,” Alexandra said gloomily. “Leah, it was the weirdest thing. I have never wanted to be a stripper, but I always thought that, like, you didn’t have to be good at it, right? Like, either you were hot, or you weren’t. But today there was this girl at the audition, and she was really, really, good. And do you know what? I was actually getting upset because I wouldn’t make a good stripper. It was so stupid.”
“So you didn’t even try,” Leah said, sounding a bit annoyed.
“Well, I did try,” Alexandra said unconvincingly. “Sort of.” She bent down and picked up her foot, pulling it up toward her face so that she could look at it. “Agh. It’s starting to hurt again.”
“You should get your mom to take you to the doctor.”
“I will,” Alexandra lied.
&
nbsp; “Actually, Alexandra. And by the way, next time you come to take class, you should bring that new kid at your school.”
“Who?”
“Julian.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Thank you for taking me to the audition and driving me home and stuff, Leah. Sorry I wasn’t any good at being a stripper.” Alexandra giggled.
“It’s fine, Lexi. Turn on the radio?” Adele was on the air with “Set Fire to the Rain,” and they both began singing along as Leah drove Alexandra home.
Chapter Ten
Julian Reese
(Dance + School) x No Sleep = Julian wants a day off. And a cookie :D
“Oh!” A shrill scream disrupted Julian’s peaceful rendition of the develope exercise they were working on. He looked across the barre in the direction of the scream, and dropped his leg. George stopped playing. Everyone stared. Keiko had her hands over her mouth and was staring at the ground. Mao was on the floor. Mrs. Castillo hurried over and rolled her over. “You okay, you okay, you okay?”
“Hai,” Mao said weakly. “My head …”
Mrs. Castillo looked over to Keiko. “Go tell Gabriel, bring me some juice, some, chocolate, something.” Keiko nodded and ran out of the room.
“What just happened?” Julian asked, leaning across to Jonathon.
“I think she just fainted.”
“Oh.” Julian stared at Mao as she slowly sat up. Gabriel came hurrying back in, holding a basket of strawberries and some yogurt-covered raisins. “These, these are Mrs. Demidovski’s,” he said, holding out the bowl to Mao. “Have some. They are very good.” He helped her get up and took her out into the hall.
“Okay, everyone, very exciting, I know, but now let’s work,” Mrs. Castillo said firmly. “George, music, please. We start from beginning again.”
During the break, Julian, like almost all of his class, flooded out of the studio and into the waiting room to see if Mao was all right. “Hey, Mao,” Julian said, sitting in the seat beside her and tucking his feet up. “You all right?” As she was his homestay sister, he felt as though he had special rights in the area of inquiring after her health. Everyone else was forced to hover curiously around them.