Abigail: Through the Looking Glass (6 page)

I don’t know what to say to Tara. I could apologise for sending the picture, I suppose, but I wouldn’t really know how. Plus I can just imagine what I’d say if I were in her shoes. What’s the point of an apology now, when the damage is done?

Kat and Tara turn their mock argument into a real fight. Everyone else is horrified, but I think it’s hilarious. By the time Patrick stops them and sends them off to calm down, I’m weak with laughter.

But it’s finally my turn to perform. I can feel the spirit of Puck inside me – I know I can dance this better than anyone here. Maybe Sammy’s right and it is typecasting, but if so, it works.

Speaking of Sammy, suddenly he’s standing beside me. ‘Look Abigail,’ he says, ‘I don’t like you most of the time but I definitely don’t think you’re stupid.’

I wasn’t even thinking about that, and I really don’t want to be reminded of it when I’m about to dance.

‘Out of my way, Lieberman,’ I say.

‘I think you’re scared of trying,’ he says, not moving, ‘which doesn’t make sense because you’re about to go out there and be fearless.’

It’s my cue, but Sammy’s gentleness holds me back. I want to know where he’s going with this.

‘In a billion years, I could never be as brilliant as you are,’ says Sammy.

He’s completely sincere. I look into his eyes and I can see that.

‘Yeah, but you just mean dancing,’ I say.

‘No,’ he says. ‘I kind of mean … everything.’

I run out into the forest glade and start to dance. Sammy hasn’t exactly said so, but I think he’s forgiven me, and it makes me feel light and happy. I dance my best, and I know it. But later, when we’re all sitting around the campfire, Sammy’s words come back to me. He thinks I can do anything. I trust his judgment in loads of ways – so why not this?

I look around at the faces lit up by the flickering flames. Everyone seems calmer for being away from the Academy. Even Kat and Tara have made up. (It turns out that it was Sean sticking the pictures up in an effort to impress Kat.)

I think I understand exactly what Puck means in the play when he says, ‘Lord, what fools these
mortals be.’ And that gives me an idea for an essay. Sammy was right. If I’m going to be fearless in my dancing, I have to be fearless everywhere.

I write the best essay I can, thinking about the performances we did and the way it worked as a ballet. It takes ages, but I do it and hand it to Sammy to read.

‘Disgusting,’ he says, holding my essay.

My heart falls, but then he follows it with: ‘Another thing you’re brilliant at.’

A sense of warmth spreads all over me – I can’t stop smiling as I look into his eyes.

‘Really?’ I ask. ‘Because I’ve never written an essay before. I was home-schooled so Mum always did them–’

He stops me – with a kiss.

There’s
nothing
as important as ballet. But Sammy makes me feel as if there are things that could come close. Since the camping trip, I still think about dancing a lot of the time … just not
all
the time. Because sometimes, in the middle of thinking about something Miss Raine said, or how I can improve my lines, Sammy’s face swims into my mind.

The funny thing is, I used to think that anything that distracted me from ballet was bad. But this isn’t anything serious; I haven’t got time for a proper boyfriend. It’s just that when he looks at me across the studio, I feel warm and happy. It makes me dance
better
!

And that is lucky, because Petra is Miss Raine’s new favourite. I know I can be as good as her. I just need the chance to do more practice, and right now
I’m still on ballet rations. Sammy is keeping me sane – and then he goes and spoils everything.

‘People are going to find out about us,’ he says one day.

Panic takes over and all of a sudden I just want to run out of the storeroom and get as far away from Sammy as I can. I shouldn’t have allowed this to happen. I shouldn’t have let myself get close to him. I like it being a secret – I like our stolen moments. That doesn’t mean that I want it to turn into something
official.

‘What do you mean, us?’ I demand. ‘This is just
this.
It doesn’t make us us.’

‘So what does
this
make us?’ asks Sammy, looking confused.

‘Nothing,’ I say, not meeting his eye.

Ballet is still the most important thing, and that means not being distracted by anything.

The junior summer program auditions have started, and I ask Miss Raine if I can help. That should win me a few points with her. She says yes, which is great – until she adds that she wants Petra included.

‘I think the young girls could learn a lot from a dancer like her,’ she says.

I feel as if Miss Raine is laughing at me. Okay, Petra is a good dancer, but she doesn’t care about ballet like I do. I heard that she turned down the offer of a place in the Company in Berlin, just to stay here. I don’t understand that. How can Miss Raine not see that Petra doesn’t take her career seriously?

I have the perfect way to show Miss Raine that Petra’s focus is not on ballet. I switch the two helper roster lists on the notice board around. Petra and Tara go off thinking they have the afternoon free, and I go to help Miss Raine, who thinks they have let her down. I think it’s totally justifiable under the circumstances. Why should Petra get away with a poor attitude without Miss Raine knowing the truth?

I’m still thinking about the innocently enthusiastic ballet girls long after they’ve gone home, but I’m interrupted by Sammy bursting into my room. He announces that someone else is interested in him and we have to go public.

‘What?’ I ask. ‘Like holding hands and swapping chewing gum under the monkey bars?’

‘That’s not–’

‘Or matching public tattoos,’ I go on. ‘Sammy and Abi 4 eva. Even better – in Chinese characters, so it’s more cultural.’

‘Maybe I should just go out with Petra,’ he says.

I look at him, my amusement trickling away. First Miss Raine and now Sammy. Does
everyone
like her better than me?

‘At least I know where I stand with her,’ he says.

‘So what are you waiting for?’ I ask.

‘Why won’t you admit that you like me?’ Sammy demands. ‘Am I that embarrassing?’

I’m too angry to think about anything other than hurting him back.

‘You are at the moment.’

As soon as he’s gone I feel bad. But he’s being deliberately awkward. He
knows
I like him. He also knows I just can’t let my attention be taken away from ballet. So why is he acting like this?

I hardly sleep a wink. Maybe I’m being unfair. Maybe he really doesn’t understand. I guess I need to talk to him about it, but first I have to help Miss Raine with today’s junior auditions.

We’re setting up when Petra and Tara arrive.

‘And where were the two of you yesterday afternoon?’ asks Miss Raine at once.

‘But we’re on today,’ says Tara.

‘Then how do you explain this roster?’ Miss Raine asks, handing it to them. ‘I’m especially disappointed in you, Petra. I can see it’s better that you remain a student; you’re clearly not ready for adult responsibility.’

‘But we–’

‘Yesterday could’ve been a disaster,’ Miss Raine snaps. ‘I’m just pleased that Abigail was able to cover for you.’

Finally, Miss Raine is able to see what I can – that Petra is not the perfect dancer. We’ve all had to take Miss Raine’s stinging comments before – well now it’s Petra’s turn. Unfortunately Petra guesses what I did. She pulls me out into the corridor, glaring at me.

‘I know you did it,’ she says. ‘I’m just not sure why?’

‘What’s the problem?’ I ask her. ‘Can’t handle not being the favourite?’

‘I’m not here to be the favourite,’ she says.

‘The way I hear it, you’re here to get Sammy to be your boyfriend,’ I say.

Petra looks shocked, but not angry.

‘Do you know why I’m a better dancer than you, Abigail?’ she asks.

‘You’re not a better dancer than me,’ I say quickly.

But she is, and she knows it.

‘I dance because I love it and because I can, not to be the best,’ she says.

‘So you’d rather stay here for love than dance professionally?’ I ask. ‘I heard you turned down the Company in Berlin.’

Petra is completely unruffled.

‘You know,’ she says, ‘the really sad thing is if you put the same amount of effort into ballet that you put into being mean, you’d be a much better dancer.’

She walks away, leaving me speechless. Why does everyone always think I’m so mean? I just want to succeed in a profession I love – is that so bad? Yes, it means that I have to be competitive and focused and driven, but that is who I am. Just because they’re not like me, or they don’t understand me, why do they all want to turn me into someone else?

Petra has gone back to Berlin to take up the offer from the Company. Her departure has been pretty much forgotten in the drama of the AIS footy squad. They have come to the Academy for a week to work on agility, flexibility and balance. All that seems to have been achieved so far is a massive surge of testosterone as all the ballet boys square up to the footballers.

They even agree on a challenge – the footballers have to perform the gypsy dance all the way through with no mistakes, and the dancers have to play touch football and score once to win.

For their sake we’ve gone back to basics, and we’re watching them
chaine
down the room, bumping into each other as they go.

‘Okay guys,’ says Patrick, ‘come and watch Abigail.’

I return to the corner. I can feel the eyes of the two captains, Ollie and Jai, burning into me.

‘This time take it super-slow,’ Patrick tells me.

I perform the
chaines
slowly, enjoying the discipline.

‘Look at that,’ says Patrick, ‘absolute concentration on technique.’

I feel a little bubble of happiness when he says that, which soon pops when he adds, ‘You’re quite turned in at the hips, aren’t you? This is why it’s good to slow it down. Helps you spot the flaws.’

For a moment I feel that same, shaky panic I used to get last semester, when I felt as if ballet had turned on me. Then I remember what Adam said about ballet not having feelings, and about thinking positive, and it helps me to shake the feeling off. I will use this criticism as a good thing. Teachers only pull us up on faults because they know we are capable of more.

Tara and I have been told we have private classes with Miss Raine every night this week. I feel like shouting it from the rooftops.

This is a huge honour, and I feel as if my focus is snapping back into place like a rubber band. I’ve been kidding myself, thinking that I can sneak around with Sammy and not be distracted by it. All my energy has to go into my dancing – Miss Raine wouldn’t be giving me private lessons if I wasn’t worth it. I hate the idea of not feeling Sammy’s arms around me again, but I know it’s the right decision for my career. When I see Sammy, I tell him about the private lessons.

‘It feels like everything is finally coming together,’ I say as gently as I can. ‘Which is why there’s not going to be any more sneaking around.’

‘Brilliant,’ he says. ‘I’m not naturally stealthy.’

He’s kind of sweet and he’s definitely making me want to kiss him again, but I need to find a way to stop this once and for all.

‘Sammy, there are two types of girls at the Academy,’ I tell him. ‘Girls who are serious about ballet and girls who have … boyfriends.’

It’s the first time I’ve said the word to him, and I don’t think he understands how hard this is. He’s just staring at me with big, hurt eyes.

‘I am not going to interfere with your dancing,’ he says.

‘Obviously,’ I say. ‘That’s my point.’

I walk away, but it’s as if he’s still standing in front of me. I can see his eyes, his gentle smile. I turn back. I’ll allow myself one more kiss – and then I’ll find a way to end it.

‘You can’t kiss someone and pretend it’s irrelevant,’ Sammy’s saying. ‘It means something.’

Kissing him again was a bad idea. I don’t know what’s happened to my self-discipline – I guess this is what happens when you allow people to get too close. It’s messing with my head, and all I want to do is focus on dancing. The trouble is, Sammy is so irrepressibly hopeful, I don’t know how to put him off.

‘It’s just lips,’ I tell him. ‘On other lips.’

Just as I say that, a couple of footballers pass by, and I have a wicked idea. I walk over and kiss one of them on the lips. His friends whoop and laugh, and I feel a surge of laughter bubbling up inside me.

Afterwards, when I think about how Sammy must have felt, I feel mean. Of course I care about him. But ballet comes first – it always has and it always will. I can’t allow him to think that my feelings are as strong as his, or he might never leave me alone.

The trouble is, I don’t
want
him to leave me alone. Why do feelings have to be so complicated?

I get nothing but criticism from Miss Raine.

‘Don’t bash it out.’

‘I don’t want to look at that!’

‘Are you
trying
to make it look ugly?’

Tara can do no wrong. ‘Tara, show her.’

‘This is what it’s supposed to look like.’

‘Clean technique.’

I grit my teeth and try harder, but it doesn’t seem to do any good. I just get worse and my failure seems to make Tara dance better and better. There’s triumph in her eyes when she looks at me. Miss Raine seems to have venom in her veins.

‘Abigail, this is ballet, not gymnastics. Square your hips. Do you even know where they’re facing?’

I look in the mirror, trying to get my hips into the correct alignment.

‘Will you stop looking in the mirror?’ she snaps. ‘Turn out your legs. How long have you been dancing? Can you not hear me, Abigail? Am I not speaking clearly enough?’

If I try to speak I’ll cry. I feel as if I’m in a horrible trap. Even Tara looks upset.

‘It makes it harder,’ she says in a low voice.

‘Excuse me?’ Miss Raine demands.

‘What you’re doing,’ says Tara. ‘When you do it to me … it makes it harder.’