Abigail: Through the Looking Glass

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Authors: Rachel Elliot
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semester, when Mia saw Sammy and I together, and realised that he had lied to her. A shiver runs down my back. How could I have forgotten about that? It’s frightening to think that the boy I thought he was is just a figment of my imagination.
    ‘I don’t care about school politics, or what year you’re in, or how good your attendance is,’ Sebastian is saying. ‘I’m a choreographer looking for dancers. All that matters is how well you perform. How focused you are, how–’
    Tara hurtles through the door, late and flustered.
    ‘So … incredibly … sorry,’ she wheezes, gasping for breath.
    ‘–professional you prove to be,’ Sebastian finishes.
    It’s the auditions for the end-of-year show, and I am throwing myself into them as hard as I can. The harder I work, the less time there will be to think about Sammy.
    We’re doing
The Nutcracker
and Kat’s dad Sebastian is directing it, with Ethan as assistant. Sebastian’s an incredible choreographer, and I
ache
for a solo role in the show. First years usually fill the
corps de ballet,
but occasionally one is given a solo role. This year, it’ll be me.
    ‘Let’s get started,’ says Sebastian.
    I walk into the audition room, pushing all thoughts of real life out of my mind. I cradle
The Nutcracker
doll and begin the variation we’ve learned. I’m focused. I’m thinking about my goal. I’m not going to care about Sammy, or teamwork, or any of the things I’ve been wasting my time with these past few weeks. I am going back to the real Abigail – the girl in the mirror – the girl I know. And I know without a shadow of a doubt that my performance is faultless.
    The cast has been decided, and I got the snowflake solo. I knew they would have to give me a part aftermy audition, but there’s even better news to come. Sebastian beckons me towards him.
    ‘You’ll be understudying Clara,’ he says, smiling at me.
    A huge swell of happiness rises up inside me. I feel like flinging my arms around him.
    ‘Thank you,’ I say, as soon as I’ve found my voice again.
    ‘You should be proud of that audition,’ he says. ‘It was technically very competent.’
    He turns aside and I look around at the others. Tara is here and I ask her who she’s understudying.
    ‘No one,’ she says.
    She’s wearing a strange expression. I suppose she’s upset, and I know I’m not very good at sympathy, but I try.
    ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I assumed they must have given you something.’
    She doesn’t say a word, and at that moment Sebastian starts to speak.
    ‘Starting with the Act Two snowflakes,’ he says. ‘Clara, can you come into the centre?’
    My brain sort of refuses to process the information for a few seconds, and then I realise that people are murmuring Tara’s name, and that she is walking towards the centre of the room.
    Tara got Clara.
    Tara, who turned up late for auditions.
    And I’m her understudy.
    This is complete favouritism. Ethan must have manoeuvred her into the role. I have no idea how he got it past Sebastian, but seriously, a first-year taking the lead? They have got to be kidding. Tara is in way over her head.
    After what feels like weeks of working in the studio, we start rehearsing in the Opera House today. I think that Sebastian is seriously regretting giving Tara the lead. There isn’t a single rehearsal where she doesn’t make dozens of mistakes. She loses concentration, she misses her cues and she’s putting the whole show in danger. Everyone’s thinking the same thing – she’s simply not good enough.
    Every time I look at Tara I feel angry. I know I can dance the part better than her.
I
don’t make silly mistakes or fall out of solos. I worked as hard as I could at my audition, and I feel as if she didn’t even have to try.
    When Tara and I go to choose our Clara costumes, I pick out the newest nightgown, but she choosesthe plainest, most faded one on the rack. It fits as if it was made for her.
    Kat takes the card that’s

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