Black Adagio (5 page)

Disgusted, Melissa concentrated on winding the ribbon around her ankle. The day only beginning, she already felt sick about Brandi sucking up to this bitch. Yes, the leotard was nice, but nothing special. It only looked fantastic because it was on someone with an idealized dancer's body.

“I bought it while performing Odette/Odile in Paris. Don't think this brand is even carried in the States. They want it to remain exclusive.”

Odette/Odile? Melissa doubted the claim. Certain that it was a big, fat lie, if she had that kind of professional credential in her hip pocket, there’d be no reason to go through this type of audition process.

“Well, it's gorgeous is what it is,” Brandi complimented, giving Zoe
what amounted to a tongue bath.

“Thank you, Brandi. You are just so swe-e-e-et.”

Drawing out the last word, it sounded decidedly sarcastic—as if she meant the opposite. Missy flexed and pointed her foot to make sure that she'd gotten the tension in the ribbons right, dubious about Brandi catching the slam. Noting they were gaping, she tried again.

“And hello, to you, Melissa. Cat got your tongue this morning?” Zoe prodded, her voice ripping through her skin and sending shivers up Melissa’s spine. 

Positive that it was Brandi that freely divulged her name to her archenemy, she supposed she was being childish about resenting her for doing so. Zoe would have undoubtedly found out regardless of what she said or didn’t say. 

“Just concentrating on getting these pointe shoes on.”

“Pointe shoes? You're wearing pointe shoes?”

“Yes, just like it said in the packet that was given to everyone. We're required to wear pointe shoes in all our classes, except for character class and the contemporary one given on Fridays.”

“Oh, right, right. I believe I did read something like that,” Zoe responded, an evil gleam appearing in her eye. Bending over, she pulled at the black lycra stretched over Missy’s form. “That's an awful-ly pretty leotard you have on also. Very flattering. Probably good at slenderizing thick waistlines.”

Delivering another insult, it was one so ridiculous as to roll off her back. Keeping her focus on the satiny ribbons, she tied the knot on the inside of her ankle, neatly tucking the ends under the fabric wound around her leg. Not immediately answering, she made Zoe wait for a response. Wiggling her foot, the ribbons were no longer puckering. Perfect!

“Thank you,” she answered, absent-mindedly. Folding a piece of lamb's wool over her toes, she slipped on the other shoe.

Chancing a peek, the disappointment spread over Zoe's face. It was such a goddamned shame that the girl was beautiful only on the outside. Her skin flawlessly porcelain, a dash of artificial pink highlighted her cheeks. Her pale coloring highlighting her almost eerily, transparent blue eyes, her thick dark brows were perfectly arched, adding a sexual note to her young face. Her voluptuous lips further veering it into vixen territory, she would have made a perfect Odile, but there were more requirements to that role than having a big mouth and a bad attitude.

“You’re welcome. And the thing is that it is just so absolutely perfect for a cheerleader,” Zoe added, a laugh gurgling deep in her swanlike neck.

The remark took Melissa off guard. What did she mean cheerleader? Looking up, the grinning loon was obviously loving Missy’s consternation. Brandi, on the other hand, looked as if she wanted the earth to swallow her.

“You look confused?” Zoe elucidated. “You know, cheerleader. As in, 'Wowee, I am such a little nothing that I'm happy to be anywhere!' I heard you shouting yesterday … out there in the field. You know it's full of manure, but you probably wouldn’t care. Well, bye-bye. My
friends
await.” Sauntering away, she paused to make cheesy cheerleader moves to her appreciative entourage on the other side of the studio.

Tightly shutting her eyes, Missy finished putting on the other shoe. Certain that Zoe couldn't have heard anything, it had been a certain blabbermouth that had told her about the incident.

“Honestly, Melissa! I didn't know she'd make a big deal out of it!” Brandi whined. “She just said something about seeing us out there! I didn't see the harm in telling her what we were doing!” 

“And this was yesterday, was it? Was this right around the same time that you found out her name was Zoe?”

“Yes! I met her last night. Since you were ignoring me, I had dinner with Collette and, well, Zoe asked us to join her. Oh, she's really nice!” Melissa's stern look backed her off from pursuing that line of bull. “Okay, maybe she's not nice, but I didn't know! I swear I didn't know she'd use it against you!”

Melissa ran her finger over her brow.
Getting upset again, there was no reason to throw a hissy fit. Brandi was undoubtedly making nice-nice to ingratiate herself with the in-crowd. She was one of those who placed importance on being popular, most likely deluding herself that Zoe actually wanted to get to know her. Not fooled, the move was designed to pump her for information about Melissa, Brandi was naive as they came.

“It's fine,” Melissa answered. Standing, she testing out her shoes by doing releves. Feeling great, while not as cushy as bedroom slippers, they were noiseless—the low vamp and profile highlighting her arch.

“Really? Do you mean that?” Brandi asked anxiously. Switching positions, Brandi now sprawled on the floor struggling to get her shoes on.

“Yes, I really mean it,” Melissa stated, leaning down and giving her surprised roommate a hug. “Now hurry up and get those shoes on. You don't want to be shoeless when the teacher gets here.”

Trying a few passes from fifth, she noticed Zoe and her crew murmuring amongst themselves. Not caring about what they were saying, she was confident that she looked good. The black racer's back leotard trimmed in white was a perfect choice for her body. Long and lithe, her torso was even more slender than Zoe’s. There was an ethereal quality to Melissa that few had. It made her movements look that much more graceful and effortless. Launching into a series of chaines, she finished with a chasse into arabesque. Holding the position, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her position was good, her hips square and her foot over the cardboard and paste box. Freed Classics her weapon of choice, she special ordered them requesting the shoemaker that used the mark of Bell.

Feeling centered, Brandi had secured a place for her at the barre. Joining her, a nervous excitement ran throughout the studio. The large clock over the mirror hitting 9:00 AM, their patience was rewarded by Una Velofsky making her first appearance. Accompanied by the two teachers that ran the national auditions, an older gentleman trailed slightly behind, a pronounced limp apparent in his stride.

Watching Una cross the room, all the characteristics that made her a prima ballerina were still there. Yes, her body was heavier, but the legs, the bearing and that intangible something that made her a star were all there. Her command and presence overriding whatever changes that time had caused, she left Melissa breathless. Scanning the mirror, most of the students felt the same way. Only one was noticeably unimpressed. Zoe ignored the ballet legend, choosing to fix her bun instead.

Missy’s emotions took the lead. Moved to express the enormous gratitude for the contribution that Una had made to ballet. she began to clap. Brandi quickly joining in, it was the spark needed to ignite the room in a fevered round of heartfelt applause.

Reaching the front of the studio, Una turned to acknowledge the spontaneous show of affection. Shyly blushing, she made the same self-effacing gestures Melissa had hereto seen only on film. Shaking her head as if unworthy, she placed her hand over her heart, descending into a shaky bow.

The applause quelling, Una stood for a moment, her eyes lingering a moment on Melissa before she began to speak.

“Thank you all for that charming interlude. It makes me feel as though I am back on the stage at Monarch Ballet. That was the best place to be … until now, of course.” A light smattering of laughter punctuated the thought. “I would like to welcome you to the Velofsky School of Ballet. You are the, how do you say, vanguard of things to come. I can only say that my two children,” she said looping an arm through each of the teacher's arms and nestling them in closer to her, “chose well. They were my eyes and ears during the audition process.”

“In case you've forgotten their names, let me refresh your memories. This is Franklin Reeves and this is Debra Johnson. They have impeccable taste in dancers so you should all consider it a tremendous compliment that they selected you to be here. And, of course, if any of you are confused, these are not my real children—although because of my age you might have thought so. No, I say children because I have real affection for them and view them as such. I view all of you the same. Now I will let these two off the hook,” she said letting go of her hold. 

“As to your time here, you know you are ultimately here for consideration to join our new company. The classes are for instruction, but they are, in reality, one big audition. We will look over how you do and how well you take correction. Demeanor and your ability to fit in will also be taken into account, but it all comes down to the dance. On that ability alone, we will make our determination. I want to think optimistically, so I hope all of you make it. It will be one very big company if that happens, but we will make it work. Now that I have gotten my little welcoming speech out of the way, I would love to introduce you to one more of our teachers. He is Viktor Szelak. I have worked with Viktor and he is even older than I am, but please don't tell him that I told you so.”

More laughter interrupting her talk, Brandi's arm went around Missy’s shoulder. Slipping an arm around her roommate’s waist, she gave her a hug and a huge smile. It was going to be alright. 

“I will now sit and observe. I would like to see for myself what you bring to dance. And please don't be afraid of making a mistake. We all learn by making them. Now I will turn the class over to Viktor who most assuredly will put you through your paces. Viktor, they are all yours!”

Gesturing with her arm for him to come forward, he did so slowly. Walking with the aid of a cane, Una, Franklin and Debra sat down on three folding chairs in the front of the studio.

In his late 50’s, age didn't stop him from cutting an imposing figure. His stern appearance reinforced by a strong, well-modulated voice that was liberally laced with a strong Russian accent, there would be no fooling around in his class. More than happy with the promised strictness, there was more to the vibe than she was willing to acknowledge. Put succinctly, he gave off a worrisome hostility. While she would have liked to believe it was for the world, it seemed directed at her, but she wasn’t afraid. She’d encountered other teachers that she’d had to win over and was supremely confident that she could again.

The barre starting, it was Viktor's style to have the dancing start at the barre. A quick
soutenu used to get the students to work the left side, he incorporated epaulement, port de bras and head positions into his list of demands. Noticing that Brandi was struggling to keep up, she was most likely used to a slower barre that demanded only foot and legwork.

Concentrating on her own reflection, dancers were discouraged from fixating on their image. No mirrors on stage, you had to learn how to identify a correct position by feeling it, but the drive to be perfect made it hard to look away. Viktor ambled around the studio, giving corrections as he went. Making his way to her, he merely pursed his lips before moving on. Disappointed that he didn't say anything, corrections were what told a dancer that they were worth noticing. The worst thing was to be ignored.

Pouring herself into the movements, before she knew it, the barre was over.  Feeling centered and completely warmed up, they began with an adagio. Viktor immediately divided the class into two groups, giving everyone room to move. Placing Missy in the first group, she easily remembered the tricky variation, but was rushing. Catching Una and the two teachers staring at her, they appeared to be discussing her technique. While Franklin made a notation in his notebook, she left the center feeling upset with herself for screwing up. The second group’s turn, she chanced a look at Zoe, it wasn't hard since she’d pushed herself into the front row. She hated to admit it, but Zoe looked sensational. Her développés smoothly unfolding, she solidly sustained the extension. Catching Viktor’s attention, he couldn't take his eye off of her. Una and her cohorts were also duly impressed. Visibly excited with the lines that went on forever, Viktor waited for the music to stop before showering her in warm praise.

Missy shook it off. After all, it was only her first day. Hoping that Velofsky's could help her conquer this defect in her dancing, the class moved onto a pirouette combination. Hoping to rectify her poor showing, the combination ended with moving turns from fifth. Well-practiced in executing them, Phoebe always referred to them as “
panic turns
,” and had included them in many of her classes. The pianist played an intro. The music perfect, she fell into the rhythm, sailing through the combo and even managing a final triple pirouette on both the left and right sides.

The second group going next, Zoe’s turns to the left were weak. Scanning the group for her friend, Brandi, she was surprised to see her having so much trouble. Putting it down to nerves, if she made it this far, she had to be better than she was exhibiting at the moment. Trying to find Collette in the sea of faces, she found her in the back. Stable and having no problems, she was a technically sound dancer with a wonderful facility for dance.