imagine being friends with the girl who danced like that.
Plus, she needed a friend right now. Aside from a few passing gestures â an accidental glance in the mirror, a nod as they caught their breath on a water break â Justin barely acknowÂledged her existence. Vanessa couldnât help but notice how he averted his eyes every time she tried to make contact with him, how he positioned himself as far away from her as possible.
There was a time limit of two minutes and forty-five seconds for the first round of solo competitions, and they had all chosen dances that would showcase their individual strengths and increase their odds of advancing to the next round. Enzo already had their musical selections on his iPod, which he hooked up to a small set of speakers, working with each of them in turn.
Vanessa had chosen one of the routines that Margaret had done before sheâd gone to NYBA; sheâd picked it as soon assheâd seen Tchaikovskyâs The Sleeping Beauty on the approved repertoire list. If Vanessa could pull off even a tenth of what Margaret had been able to do that time, there was no way the judges wouldnât pass her to the second round.
Just after six, Enzo let them go. âOur next rehearsal will be tomorrow morning at nine oâclock sharp.â he said. âI strongly suggest you spend some time this evening practising. Goodnight,â he added, as they all filed out; then he locked the room and disappeared down the hallway.
âAnd you?â the waitress said. âWhat do you want?â
What do I want? Vanessa wondered. If only she knew.
She turned her attention to the menu, but she was distracted by Justin, who was sitting across the booth, talking to Svetya, his voice soft, as though the rest of the table didnât exist. It didnât help that every time Vanessa looked at her roommate, she was struck anew by how beautiful she was. Vanessa watched Justin whisper something to Svetya, then laugh, and she suddenly wondered if she had made an incredible mistake.
After rehearsal, the four of them had joined a group that was heading off for dinner at a nearby restaurant in the Richmond neighbourhood, a place called Barre None. Geo said it had been a favourite of local dancers for decades. Vanessa wasnât sure she wanted to go, but her only other prospect was dinner with her mother or in the cafeteria, alone.
âItâs delicious,â Geo promised. âEveryone at our school loves to go there after classes and not eat.â
Vanessa laughed and decided to tag along.
On the walk over, Svetya and Geo had chattered on about school and rehearsal, while Justin and Vanessa walked together through a light drizzle, not saying much of anything. Between the overnight flight and the long practice, Vanessa was exhausÂted, and she wasnât sure what to say to Justin. It was awkward walking beside him as if he were a stranger. But what could she say? Sheâd told him the truth and either he didnât believe her or he was punishing her for pushing him away.
No, better to say nothing.
Barre None, at least, was warm and inviting, its walls crowded with framed programmes and posters and even worn pointe shoes that had belonged to famous dancers. A black-and-white photograph of Margot Fonteyn in an arabesque hung beside a photograph of Rudolf Nureyev suspended mid-leap, the light reflecting off his bare chest. Facing it was a huge print of Mikhail Baryshnikov soaring so high he looked as if he was flying.
Beneath Baryshnikov sat Justin, pushing his hair out of his eyes and grinning as he said something to Svetya.
Vanessa shifted in her seat. She hadnât come here to fall in love with Justin, and yet now that she saw him laughing with stupid Svetya, his eyes so wide, so eager, she was consumed with jealousy.
The waitress tapped her pen against her order pad. âAll right, honey, Iâm putting you in for a goatâs cheese and walnut salad.
Plus, she needed a friend right now. Aside from a few passing gestures â an accidental glance in the mirror, a nod as they caught their breath on a water break â Justin barely acknowÂledged her existence. Vanessa couldnât help but notice how he averted his eyes every time she tried to make contact with him, how he positioned himself as far away from her as possible.
There was a time limit of two minutes and forty-five seconds for the first round of solo competitions, and they had all chosen dances that would showcase their individual strengths and increase their odds of advancing to the next round. Enzo already had their musical selections on his iPod, which he hooked up to a small set of speakers, working with each of them in turn.
Vanessa had chosen one of the routines that Margaret had done before sheâd gone to NYBA; sheâd picked it as soon assheâd seen Tchaikovskyâs The Sleeping Beauty on the approved repertoire list. If Vanessa could pull off even a tenth of what Margaret had been able to do that time, there was no way the judges wouldnât pass her to the second round.
Just after six, Enzo let them go. âOur next rehearsal will be tomorrow morning at nine oâclock sharp.â he said. âI strongly suggest you spend some time this evening practising. Goodnight,â he added, as they all filed out; then he locked the room and disappeared down the hallway.
âAnd you?â the waitress said. âWhat do you want?â
What do I want? Vanessa wondered. If only she knew.
She turned her attention to the menu, but she was distracted by Justin, who was sitting across the booth, talking to Svetya, his voice soft, as though the rest of the table didnât exist. It didnât help that every time Vanessa looked at her roommate, she was struck anew by how beautiful she was. Vanessa watched Justin whisper something to Svetya, then laugh, and she suddenly wondered if she had made an incredible mistake.
After rehearsal, the four of them had joined a group that was heading off for dinner at a nearby restaurant in the Richmond neighbourhood, a place called Barre None. Geo said it had been a favourite of local dancers for decades. Vanessa wasnât sure she wanted to go, but her only other prospect was dinner with her mother or in the cafeteria, alone.
âItâs delicious,â Geo promised. âEveryone at our school loves to go there after classes and not eat.â
Vanessa laughed and decided to tag along.
On the walk over, Svetya and Geo had chattered on about school and rehearsal, while Justin and Vanessa walked together through a light drizzle, not saying much of anything. Between the overnight flight and the long practice, Vanessa was exhausÂted, and she wasnât sure what to say to Justin. It was awkward walking beside him as if he were a stranger. But what could she say? Sheâd told him the truth and either he didnât believe her or he was punishing her for pushing him away.
No, better to say nothing.
Barre None, at least, was warm and inviting, its walls crowded with framed programmes and posters and even worn pointe shoes that had belonged to famous dancers. A black-and-white photograph of Margot Fonteyn in an arabesque hung beside a photograph of Rudolf Nureyev suspended mid-leap, the light reflecting off his bare chest. Facing it was a huge print of Mikhail Baryshnikov soaring so high he looked as if he was flying.
Beneath Baryshnikov sat Justin, pushing his hair out of his eyes and grinning as he said something to Svetya.
Vanessa shifted in her seat. She hadnât come here to fall in love with Justin, and yet now that she saw him laughing with stupid Svetya, his eyes so wide, so eager, she was consumed with jealousy.
The waitress tapped her pen against her order pad. âAll right, honey, Iâm putting you in for a goatâs cheese and walnut salad.
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