Read Online Kat: Breaking Pointe by Sebastian Scott - Free Book Online

all go to the funeral to support Sammy. I watch on as they lower the coffin into the ground. Life is really short, I think. I hold Tara’s hand. I didn’t know Grandpa Morrie, but tears fall anyway, for Sammy and his family and the sadness they must bear. Seeing Sammy and his dad standing together I wonder if good things can come out of grief and loss, if Sammy can find a way back to his family.
    On the way home from the funeral I get the text I’ve been waiting for. I’m in the Moulin Rouge . I’m going to Paris!
    I ring Mum that night.
    â€˜The Moulin Rouge?’ she repeats. I think I’ve woken her up.
    â€˜I know it’s not the Ballet de l’Opéra de Paris , but I thought you’d be happy.’
    â€˜I am happy,’ Tash says. She doesn’t sound exactly happy. ‘I’m also a little confused. I thought you didn’t want to be a dancer. I was coming to terms with that.’
    â€˜This is different, Mum. It’s not like ballet. It’s fun. It doesn’t take itself too seriously.’
    â€˜All professional dance is serious, Katrina.’
    I sigh impatiently. ‘I know that.’
    â€˜And you’re sure this is what you want?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Well,’ she contemplates. ‘Paris is closer to Berlin than Sydney. And flights are so cheap here. I could fly in for visits and make sure you’re …’
    â€˜Behaving?’
    â€˜I was going to say looking after yourself. Oh, Kat, I’m so glad you’re dancing again.’
    This time I don’t roll my eyes. ‘Me too, Mum,’ I say. I’m actually kind of looking forward to seeing her in Paris.

CHAPTER 13
    I’ve travelled all my life, from one country to another. I’ve lost track of time zones, mixed up my Bonjours with my Kalasperas . I’ve looked out of hotel windows at city lights and not known what city, what country I’m in. My passport is stamped with places I don’t recall being in.
    Maybe I sound spoilt and ungrateful, but on all those trips I longed for home. For vegemite sandwiches and gum trees, barbecued sausages and Christmas in summer, for Moreton Bay fig trees and fruit bats and possums in the park.
    It’s not like I was a tourist. I was little more than luggage, dragged around by Tash and Sebastian. Once in Singapore, Tash went straight from the theatre to the airport and flew out, forgetting I waswaiting for her in the hotel. It was only discovered because the babysitter wanted to go home.
    But it’s different this time. I am choosing Paris, and Paris is choosing me. In Paris I can be anyone I want, maybe I’ll even choose a stage name and leave the Karamakov name behind. No one has to know about my famous parents, or that I failed the National Academy of Dance, or that I might be flunking out of Normal School. No one has to know that I am a kisser of my best friend’s ex-boyfriend. In Paris I can start again. I can be the real me.
    Even better, I can be the Paris version of the real me. Who I imagine is a bit like the real Sydney me, but much better dressed.
    â€˜It’s hard enough not having you at the Academy,’ Tara says, hugging me. ‘I am incapable of an ocean of distance.’
    â€˜Fear not, little one,’ I tell her. ‘You still have two weeks to adore me.’
    Ben and Christian offer to accompany me to my first rehearsals (out of the goodness of their hearts, I’m sure). I am relieved to have Ben around, the intensity of my feelings for Christian have only heightened since our illicit kiss. I spend way too much time imagining farewell scenes (I’ve beenhanging out with Tara the hopeless romantic too long), or reunion scenes in Paris, walking along the Seine, the Eiffel tower looming in the background. Argh. PAUSE. STOP. DELETE.
    â€˜You can’t stay,’ I warn them.
    Ben pouts. ‘First you reject me and now you’re leaving me. You owe me girls