Dream Chaser (5 page)

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Authors: Angie Stanton

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Love & Romance

BOOK: Dream Chaser
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“I’m sure it must be something important for her to call. She’s in Studio C. Go on over. I hope this means you’re coming back. We could use more dancers like you. I’ve got a class, but don’t be stranger.” Miss Kathy rushed off.

A crush of pint-sized dancers squeezed past as I made my way to Studio C. Miss Ginny stood near a large stereo, organizing CD’s, garbed in her standard studio uniform of pink tights, black leotard cinched at the breast and her trademark chartreuse wrap. Mirrors covered one wall and ballet bars lined the other three. The worn wood floor reminded me of my endless hours spent practicing.

She turned and spotted me. Warm kinship shone in her eyes. “Willow,” she said like a melody. Miss Ginny offered a warm smile that felt like a welcome home after a long journey. Her lips were stained red and her bright eyes rimmed with black liner. She still wore false eyelashes, as if she were about to step out under the bright stage lights.

“Come let me take a look at you,” she said, back in her business mode. “Take off that coat.”

I grinned at my former mentor, tossed my coat aside, and stepped before her.

“You’re taller,” she stated as she examined me.

“Yes, that happens.” I fought the urge to hug her.

“How are your parents?” She gripped my biceps and triceps. “Look at these muscles. Tsk.”

“Same as usual.” I bit back a response about the muscle comment. Cheerleading demanded a lot of strength.

“Are they still blending tea?”

“Oh yes, and they’ve expanded to some new flavors.”

“And your sister? I haven’t seen her in my studio.” She continued to examine me, nodding approval.

“She’s a free spirit, but maybe someday.” Breezy didn’t seem like the dancing type.
Drama, yes, but the discipline of dance?
I didn’t see it.

Miss Ginny harrumphed.

“You quit that cheerleading thing,” she stated, but arched an eyebrow like it was a question.

“Yes, just yesterday.” Here it was again. Did everyone in the entire city know I quit?

“Good,” She said with satisfied finality. “You must go home and stretch out those muscles. Don’t worry. They will be long and lean in a couple of weeks. Have your father teach you some yoga.”

“Yes, ma’am, but Miss Ginny, will you please tell me what this is about?”

“Tyson Scott needs a new dancer for his pilot project Dream Chaser. Of course, Jessica threw her opportunity into the toilet as she often does.
A talented girl with no drive.
What a waste. Now everything is a mess. He must find another dancer immediately. He has all my best dancers, but he doesn’t have you.” She drilled me with a look like a nun at a Catholic school. “I told him you
can
step in immediately.”

“What
?!

I
had
thought about it since Ms. Fuller mentioned the idea this morning, but step in immediately? Let’s slow this train down.

“Is there a problem?” she asked. “Tyson needs a dancer, and you need to dance. You’re done playing cheerleader, so what else are you going to do?”

“I don’t know if I have time to do a show right now.”

“Nonsense. Of course you do. Tyson is a former student of mine. He is a brilliant choreographer with the most innovative mind to hit Broadway in twenty years. This show will put Madison on the map as an excellent location for the arts.” She paused and peered over the top of her glasses. “If his show garners the critical acclaim it deserves, great things will happen to all involved. You must be a part of it.”

“Yeah, but...”

“No, no. No more disagreements. I want you to go home and do some warm ups. Practice your last competition routine, the one you performed at the
Joffrey
summer workshop. Play some classical music, and for goodness sake, stretch out those muscles. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you will not be left behind! Do you have a problem with this?” Her head held high and her posture perfect, she awaited my answer like a ticking bomb.

“No, ma’am.” What was the point in debating? When Miss Ginny got something in her head, she always got her way. Except when I quit dance. That was the hardest thing I’d ever done, much harder than quitting cheer, and Miss Ginny took it personally. But it had nothing to do with her.

“Excellent. Be ready to audition for him after school tomorrow. It’s in the Capital High Auditorium. It will be a private audition before the full cast rehearsal.”

My eyes bugged out. An audition tomorrow! I needed time to prepare. It had been three years since I last danced. Miss Ginny assumed too much if she thought I could be polished enough for an audition by then!

“Now what is this? You can’t expect to just walk in and get the part.”

“But I need a lot more time!”

Young students wandered in. “I wish I had time to work with you now, but the night is filled with classes. Here is a DVD of your last competition routine. The one you took first place with. Do you remember?”

“Yes, of course.” How could I forget? I practiced each number until I knew it inside out and backwards. And once I knew a routine I never forgot it. I was a freak that way.

“Good. Now go home and work this number until you have it the best you can. You won’t be anywhere near your former skill level, but it should be enough.” She placed the case in my hand. “You have a lot of work to do, off you go. I will see you tomorrow.” She smiled with satisfaction.

Dumbfounded, I left the studio. As much as I couldn’t imagine doing a dance audition after going cold turkey, the thought of having a concrete reason not to go back to cheer—ever—gave me a renewed determination. Plus, the idea of being part of something great kindled a tiny flame deep inside.

*
  
*
  
*

 

I sat in the cold car still in shock. Now I had the perfect out. Try out for the show and never go back to cheer. I turned the key. After a slow turnover, the engine rumbled to life. This was what I wanted, wasn’t it?
A guaranteed reason to never fly again.
Just the thought of walking into the cheer practice gym scared me.

But could I dance well enough to get a part? I used to dance four or five times a week and compete on the dance team. How much had I forgotten? Could I do those leaps anymore? Could I do
a double switch leap or a quadruple
fuette
turn?
Miss Ginny was
right,
I had the short tight muscles of a cheerleader. My long lean dance muscles disappeared soon after I quit.

The air blasting out began to turn warm. I rubbed my hands together in front of it. Doing the show would solve some of my problems, but not my biggest one; convincing Jilly that I really had quit. The two of us had been tighter than the
Kardashians
ever since cheer camp that first summer. We roomed together, ate together, guy watched together, and harassed the underclassmen together.
 

Her uncle owned a gymnastics gym, and we spent all our free time perfecting our tumbling and stunts. We even learned how to fly together. While Jilly could fly, she didn’t have the flair or fearlessness I did. Boy, had that changed. My dad calls us Thing 1 and Thing 2. Somehow I needed to soften the blow to Jilly. She wasn’t going to like this.

I put the car in reverse and backed off the frozen mountain of snow. Once I was on level ground again, I left
the Davis Dance Academy
behind and headed toward Badger Twisters gymnastics school where I got to know Jilly that summer three years ago. Distraught after quitting dance, I gravitated to gymnastics, Jilly and I hit it off immediately. Because her uncle owns the place, we were able to spend every spare moment screwing around on the trampoline, learning cheer tricks, and jumping into the huge cushioned pit. Now Jilly works there.

A few minutes later, I ran through the icy cold air to the warm inside lobby. I unzipped my coat. Chairs lined the sides of the room for waiting parents. Bright lights illuminated the cluttered lobby and the sound of kids working echoed off the high metal ceiling.

One wall had dozens of cubbies to store street shoes, coats and gym bags. The other wall held a long counter for registration and concession sales. Jilly worked, selling red licorice to a couple of middle school girls.

“Hey,” I walked over, not sure how to break the news.

“Oh my god. What are you doing here?” Jilly lit up like the Las Vegas strip.

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by.” I leaned one arm on the counter.

“Good thing. I’ve been so bored. I was about to hang myself with the climbing rope.”

Jilly glowed with happiness. She always wore her feelings on her sleeve. There was no mystery in Jilly’s emotions. If she felt it, you knew it, which made being in a fight easier, or maybe not. Sometimes it would be nice if she’d hide her anger.

“Good thing you didn’t. That would have scared the little kids.”

“Probably. Popcorn?” Jilly asked.

“Awesome.”

Jilly opened the popcorn machine, filled two bags and handed me one.

“Thanks.” I put a handful in my mouth.

“So why are you here tonight? Oh my god!” Jilly dropped her popcorn on the counter. “You changed your mind. You’re coming back to cheer! I knew it!” She bounced up and down in her cheerleader way.

I scrunched my face. “Well, actually no.”

Jilly sobered. “What?”

I took a breath and decided to just dive right in. “I was over talking to Miss Ginny, my old dance teacher.”

Disbelief shown on Jilly’s face, as if I just violated some sacred oath.

“She called me,” I defended. “She asked me to come see her.”

“What for?” Jilly sounded innocent enough, but I was pretty sure she knew I hadn’t met my former dance teacher just to catch up on old times.

“Well, she heard I quit cheer.”

Jilly gave me a pissed off glare.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t tell her. Heck, I didn’t tell anyone, but the whole world seems to know.”

“So?” Jilly asked, waiting for the bad news.

“So, she wants me to try out for that pilot project. It’s called Dream Chaser. There’s a spot in the chorus since Jessica got the boot.”

Jilly’s jaw stiffened and her lips pinched tight. She grabbed a dishrag and began to wash off the scratched countertop.

“I told you. I didn’t call her. She called me.” But I knew Jilly didn’t care.

Jilly scrubbed harder. Finally she tossed the rag aside and crossed her arms. She turned to me, her shoulders set. “Just say it.”

“What?”

“Just say what you came here to tell me.” She glared.

Just as I opened my mouth to speak, Jilly interrupted. “But let me point out that you promised to take some time before you made it final.”

I started to talk.

She interrupted again with her hands firmly on the counter. “You promised.”

Jilly was acting unreasonable, but still I felt like a jerk. I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I have to.”

Jilly turned away in a huff. “Oh please.”

“Miss Ginny is really important to me, and she asked me to try out.” I realized I was just making up excuses for Jilly, trying to avoid the real reason I quit, but I was too scared to keep flying.

“I don’t know if I’ll even make it. I haven’t danced in forever. I’ll probably suck.” I prayed I wouldn’t. I didn’t want to embarrass Miss Ginny or myself.

“Not likely. You’re good at everything.” Jilly cocked her head to the side. “This is so crappy. You aren’t even giving me a chance. You’re scared. You fell. That’s fine, but give yourself some time to get over it. It’ll go away.”

“Scared because I fell? That’s a little mild, don’t you think?” I glared at Jilly.

“It felt more like a full body slam into the gym floor head first. You may not think that’s a big deal, but when you’re free falling from twenty feet in the air, it hurts! A lot!” I pushed my hand through my hair as I recalled the horrible memory. Suddenly I felt out of breath, and my pulse raced from thinking about it.

Jilly had the decency to look guilty. “I know. It’s just that I don’t want you to quit. You’re half the reason I love cheer so much. Plus, without you it won’t be fun anymore.” She looked at me with the saddest eyes.

“Sure it will. You and Anna will become BFFs.” I teased, trying to make Jilly lighten up. And it worked, a least a little.

“You’re such a jerk.” She tossed popcorn at me and grinned.

“And we’ll still see each other all the time; just not at cheer. Like I said, I don’t even know if I’ll make it, but I have to give it a shot.” I drew circles on the surface with my finger. The more we talked about the tryout and show, the more I realized I really wanted it.

“This rots big time. You shouldn’t run away just because you’re scared.”

“I’m not.”

Jilly pierced me with a look that said she knew otherwise.

I squirmed. A group of kids came with money in their hands. “Well, I should get going.” I pushed away. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Jilly didn’t say anything. She just shrugged,
then
turned to scoop more popcorn.

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