barely eaten anything in days. Moping.”
“I’m not moping. I’m fine,” I insist. How can I explain the heaviness in my chest every time I think of him? About how I don’t want to wash my sheets just so I can catch the smallest whiff of his scent when I’m sleeping? About how just the sight of him makes me feel a total sense of loss? All this from a one-night make-out session. I should be smarter than this.
“Well he’s not worth it,” she says, unpacking one of the bags and shoving some lettuce in the fridge.
“No kidding.”
“I tell you what. Why don’t we get take-out, grab this container of Ben & Jerry’s.” She waves a carton of ice cream at me. “And watch Pride and Prejudice all night?”
A night in my pajamas wallowing in my own misery actually sounds pretty good right now. “The BBC version?”
Courtney squints at me. “There’s only one Mr. Darcy, and Colin Firth is it.”
“Deal.”
“Releve. And plie. Releve. And plie.” Madame taps out the time to the music with the big wooden stick she always carries with her. “I want to see more extension! More lift.”
I can feel her eyes burning into me as I work the sequence and try to stare straight ahead. Any more bobbles and she’ll pull me out of the recital, she’s practically said so. Nina’s next to me and I just concentrate on her, try to match her height and her timing. Madame stands motionless in front of me, nothing moving but her stick as it thumps on the ground. Finally, after an eternity, she moves on down the line to scare the living crap out of some other poor dancer.
The music stops and I want to collapse in a heap, but instead I force myself to stay standing and stretch my legs. It’s always the weak gazelle that gets cut from the herd and devoured by the strongest lioness. I can’t afford to be the weak gazelle.
“Bon, ladies,” Madame says. “We have less than a week of rehearsals left before the show. I expect everyone here on time and on task. Have a good evening.”
I turn to grab my bag from the cubbyhole in the front, but Madame calls me over to the mirror. Nina glances at me and mouths, “I’ll wait outside.” Nodding quickly to her, I pull my dance bag onto my shoulder and go to hear my fate, my heart pounding and tiny beads of sweat collecting at my hairline.
“Ms. Taylor, I am concerned that you are not up for this part next week,” she says, her eyes intent on me in the mirror.
“I am Madame,” I say quickly, wiping my face with my sleeve. “I’ve been working on the solo during my open studio time. I’ll be ready.”
She purses her lips and turns to look me up and down. “Your jumps are leaden, your feet are heavy and your spirit is dark. You are not letting the outside world impact your art, are you not?”
“No Madame.” But we both know that’s a lie.
Madame looks beyond me to the rest of the dancers as they crowd the waiting area. “Because there are many girls who are waiting in the wings to take your place.” She pauses. “There is always another girl waiting to take your place.”
I nod quickly and swallow hard. She’s not letting me go yet. I have to get it together.
“We will see after tomorrow’s rehearsal. If I am still not satisfied, we will have to make some changes.”
“You will be,” I say, resisting the urge to throw myself at her feet. “I promise.”
“Good then.” She breaks into what passes for a smile. “Go and rest. It will be a long week ahead of us.”
“Yes Madame. Thank you.” I walk away as quickly as possible while still trying to retain a shred of my dignity.
“Holy crap,” Nina whispers when I meet her at the front door of the studio. “Did she replace you?”
“Not yet,” I say, following her out. “But she will if I don’t stop screwing up.”
We walk a few steps down the sidewalk. “He’s not worth it you know,” she says.
Just thinking about Ty makes my stomach
“I’m not moping. I’m fine,” I insist. How can I explain the heaviness in my chest every time I think of him? About how I don’t want to wash my sheets just so I can catch the smallest whiff of his scent when I’m sleeping? About how just the sight of him makes me feel a total sense of loss? All this from a one-night make-out session. I should be smarter than this.
“Well he’s not worth it,” she says, unpacking one of the bags and shoving some lettuce in the fridge.
“No kidding.”
“I tell you what. Why don’t we get take-out, grab this container of Ben & Jerry’s.” She waves a carton of ice cream at me. “And watch Pride and Prejudice all night?”
A night in my pajamas wallowing in my own misery actually sounds pretty good right now. “The BBC version?”
Courtney squints at me. “There’s only one Mr. Darcy, and Colin Firth is it.”
“Deal.”
“Releve. And plie. Releve. And plie.” Madame taps out the time to the music with the big wooden stick she always carries with her. “I want to see more extension! More lift.”
I can feel her eyes burning into me as I work the sequence and try to stare straight ahead. Any more bobbles and she’ll pull me out of the recital, she’s practically said so. Nina’s next to me and I just concentrate on her, try to match her height and her timing. Madame stands motionless in front of me, nothing moving but her stick as it thumps on the ground. Finally, after an eternity, she moves on down the line to scare the living crap out of some other poor dancer.
The music stops and I want to collapse in a heap, but instead I force myself to stay standing and stretch my legs. It’s always the weak gazelle that gets cut from the herd and devoured by the strongest lioness. I can’t afford to be the weak gazelle.
“Bon, ladies,” Madame says. “We have less than a week of rehearsals left before the show. I expect everyone here on time and on task. Have a good evening.”
I turn to grab my bag from the cubbyhole in the front, but Madame calls me over to the mirror. Nina glances at me and mouths, “I’ll wait outside.” Nodding quickly to her, I pull my dance bag onto my shoulder and go to hear my fate, my heart pounding and tiny beads of sweat collecting at my hairline.
“Ms. Taylor, I am concerned that you are not up for this part next week,” she says, her eyes intent on me in the mirror.
“I am Madame,” I say quickly, wiping my face with my sleeve. “I’ve been working on the solo during my open studio time. I’ll be ready.”
She purses her lips and turns to look me up and down. “Your jumps are leaden, your feet are heavy and your spirit is dark. You are not letting the outside world impact your art, are you not?”
“No Madame.” But we both know that’s a lie.
Madame looks beyond me to the rest of the dancers as they crowd the waiting area. “Because there are many girls who are waiting in the wings to take your place.” She pauses. “There is always another girl waiting to take your place.”
I nod quickly and swallow hard. She’s not letting me go yet. I have to get it together.
“We will see after tomorrow’s rehearsal. If I am still not satisfied, we will have to make some changes.”
“You will be,” I say, resisting the urge to throw myself at her feet. “I promise.”
“Good then.” She breaks into what passes for a smile. “Go and rest. It will be a long week ahead of us.”
“Yes Madame. Thank you.” I walk away as quickly as possible while still trying to retain a shred of my dignity.
“Holy crap,” Nina whispers when I meet her at the front door of the studio. “Did she replace you?”
“Not yet,” I say, following her out. “But she will if I don’t stop screwing up.”
We walk a few steps down the sidewalk. “He’s not worth it you know,” she says.
Just thinking about Ty makes my stomach
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