Authors: Stasia Ward Kehoe
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Stories in Verse, #Love & Romance, #Performing Arts, #Dance
Audition (15 page)
The chaperones are strict,
Assigning us girls
Four to a hotel room,
Four to a hotel room,
Where everyone doses up on Advil
To beat back the pain
Of the unforgiving floors.
To beat back the pain
Of the unforgiving floors.
The room stinks of Bengay,
Lisette’s leotard
Rinsed and drying on the towel bar.
Lisette’s leotard
Rinsed and drying on the towel bar.
On television
Old men tell jokes behind desks.
Old men tell jokes behind desks.
In the bathroom, Bonnie
Vomits again.
Vomits again.
Beneath the covers
My body aches
For Remington.
My body aches
For Remington.
On the last day of the trip,
As we are leaving the studio
Of the city ballet company
Where we took a grueling class,
Rem says in the most offhand way,
“I’m staying with friends in the city tonight.”
Of the city ballet company
Where we took a grueling class,
Rem says in the most offhand way,
“I’m staying with friends in the city tonight.”
My mind does a quick calculation.
Bonnie sits with Lisette,
Madison with Simone,
Fernando with no one,
Staring out the window
Or perhaps at his own reflection
In the fingerprinted pane.
Bonnie sits with Lisette,
Madison with Simone,
Fernando with no one,
Staring out the window
Or perhaps at his own reflection
In the fingerprinted pane.
I curl up alone in the seat.
The bus swerves cruelly
Around sharp curves,
Lurches
Over potholes.
My stomach revolts.
My body misses
The comfort of wrapping fingers,
The distraction of kisses.
The bus swerves cruelly
Around sharp curves,
Lurches
Over potholes.
My stomach revolts.
My body misses
The comfort of wrapping fingers,
The distraction of kisses.
Back at the studio
I watch Jane
Work with company dancers and students.
Her face, friendly and professional,
Does not look like she is lost, missing a piece
Of something. Her heart must be fine
And I comfort myself, recalling that morning
Not long ago
When Rem stalked into the studio
Leaving her in the doorway’s shadow.
Work with company dancers and students.
Her face, friendly and professional,
Does not look like she is lost, missing a piece
Of something. Her heart must be fine
And I comfort myself, recalling that morning
Not long ago
When Rem stalked into the studio
Leaving her in the doorway’s shadow.
The tape measure
Is unforgiving:
My legs are shorter than Lisette’s,
My waist thicker than Bonnie’s.
The
Nutcracker
costume mistress pushes me this way and
that.
I try on a shimmering white unitard, a sash of gray chiffon,
A tight silver cap.
My legs are shorter than Lisette’s,
My waist thicker than Bonnie’s.
The
Nutcracker
costume mistress pushes me this way and
that.
I try on a shimmering white unitard, a sash of gray chiffon,
A tight silver cap.
He hasn’t come back to the studio yet.
I sit with the other girls in the hall,
Sewing ribbons on my new pointe shoes.
Sewing ribbons on my new pointe shoes.
Every time someone comes through the door
I jump.
I jump.
Is Simone watching?
Can Madison see my desperation?
Can Madison see my desperation?
My mind travels to a horrible place
Where he has simply disappeared.
No one knows what has happened.
And I am left here
Alone.
Where he has simply disappeared.
No one knows what has happened.
And I am left here
Alone.
The second hand rond de jambes
Around the clock.
Rehearsal begins in nine minutes.
Around the clock.
Rehearsal begins in nine minutes.
One slipper sewn.
One bloody finger prick
Dotting red-brown spots
On the pink satin ribbon.
One bloody finger prick
Dotting red-brown spots
On the pink satin ribbon.
I put my finger in my mouth.
Suck off the dirty blood.
Start on the other shoe,
Though there’s little chance
I will be finished in nine minutes.
Suck off the dirty blood.
Start on the other shoe,
Though there’s little chance
I will be finished in nine minutes.
At eight minutes
He swoops through the door,
Face shadowy with unshorn beard,
Coat bundled over his arm.
He swoops through the door,
Face shadowy with unshorn beard,
Coat bundled over his arm.
“Friend’s car broke down on the highway,”
He says to no one in particular.
He says to no one in particular.
Dashes toward the costume shop.
I wait for his gaze
To rest specially on my face
But there is nothing.
To rest specially on my face
But there is nothing.
Am I lonelier now
Than when my sad imagination
Had him disappear?
Heart torn,
Loosing tiny droplets
Of sorrow
No tape can measure
No needle can mend.
Than when my sad imagination
Had him disappear?
Heart torn,
Loosing tiny droplets
Of sorrow
No tape can measure
No needle can mend.
Señor Medrano puts me in the front row
To learn the steps for the Snowflake ballet.
They are not very difficult;
What is hard is matching with the other girls,
Counting out the music exactly right.
They are not very difficult;
What is hard is matching with the other girls,
Counting out the music exactly right.
My toes push down on the hard floor,
Nearly unprotected
By the worn boxes of my old pointe shoes—
The price for failing to finish
Sewing the new ribbons.
Nearly unprotected
By the worn boxes of my old pointe shoes—
The price for failing to finish
Sewing the new ribbons.
But Señor smiles, encouraging.
The music carries me
As I lead my line,
Glance up at my fingertips
In a glorious port de bras,
Loneliness, for the moment,
Forgotten.
The music carries me
As I lead my line,
Glance up at my fingertips
In a glorious port de bras,
Loneliness, for the moment,
Forgotten.
At Upton it is all about
The PSAT score reports that have come in.
Katia and Anne are planning a trip
To visit colleges along the Atlantic coast.
Katia and Anne are planning a trip
To visit colleges along the Atlantic coast.
I stare at the envelope
From the College Board.
From the College Board.
“Open it.”
Anne laughs
Her superior laugh.
The intellectual
With the well-cut
Ralph Lauren
Burgundy jacket
That nods to Upton’s dress-code standard
Without seeming uniform at all.
Anne laughs
Her superior laugh.
The intellectual
With the well-cut
Ralph Lauren
Burgundy jacket
That nods to Upton’s dress-code standard
Without seeming uniform at all.
I slide my finger under the flap
Pull out the thin, computer-generated page
Read and pass it over.
Pull out the thin, computer-generated page
Read and pass it over.
I barely remember taking the test in October.
Can’t think if anyone told me it was happening
Until that day.
Can’t think if anyone told me it was happening
Until that day.
Had to borrow a pencil
To fill in the monotonous ovals
That made me late to ballet class.
To fill in the monotonous ovals
That made me late to ballet class.
Yet, even in my disinterest,
I can see the very high percentile marks
That draw the smile
Off of Anne’s lips,
Make Katia’s pale eyes bulge.
I can see the very high percentile marks
That draw the smile
Off of Anne’s lips,
Make Katia’s pale eyes bulge.
“So what colleges are you thinking of?”
Anne asks.
Anne asks.
“I haven’t really thought about college,”
I confess.
I confess.
And we can be friends again.
Could it be that high PSATs make me lighter?
Because I can barely remember the windy ride
Down Harris Avenue,
Do not even celebrate
Ruby Rappaport’s fight with Adnan,
Which means I sit in the front seat.
Down Harris Avenue,
Do not even celebrate
Ruby Rappaport’s fight with Adnan,
Which means I sit in the front seat.
My poker hair does not resist
Being twisted into the bun.
I do not feel hungry,
Despite a lunch of six orange wedges.
The dark green leotard
Slides over my stomach
Like silk.
Being twisted into the bun.
I do not feel hungry,
Despite a lunch of six orange wedges.
The dark green leotard
Slides over my stomach
Like silk.
I choose the far end of the barre
But, unlike the first day,
I know the routines.
My back held straight,
Arms taut but graceful,
Clenching my feet into perfect arches.
But, unlike the first day,
I know the routines.
My back held straight,
Arms taut but graceful,
Clenching my feet into perfect arches.
After the barre, ballet class moves to center,
The pretend, practice stage
Where we tendu, plié, jeté
All over again.
But this time, we dance for our mirror audience,
Posing coquettishly in effacé,
Twisting and angling,
Morphing from student to performer
For forty-five minutes or an hour.
Where we tendu, plié, jeté
All over again.
But this time, we dance for our mirror audience,
Posing coquettishly in effacé,
Twisting and angling,
Morphing from student to performer
For forty-five minutes or an hour.
Inside my new pointe shoes,
A bleeding blister
Burns delightfully
Through a grueling adagio combination:
Arabesque into an epic promenade
That somehow does not cause a cramp in my thigh.
Then an allegro: sauté, chassé, piqué turns.
A bleeding blister
Burns delightfully
Through a grueling adagio combination:
Arabesque into an epic promenade
That somehow does not cause a cramp in my thigh.
Then an allegro: sauté, chassé, piqué turns.
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