On Pointe (7 page)

“I'm so sorry,” Scarlett said, apologizing. “She didn't understand this was for decoration, not eating. She won't take any more.”

“I
did
understand.” Gracie stamped her foot. “I'm the star and I make the rules.” She marched away in a huff, leaving a trail of jellybeans behind her.

“What was that all about?” Rochelle asked.

Scarlett shook her head. “I don't know. But whatever it is, Liberty's behind it.”

“I want to run the snow scene,” Mr. Minnelli called from the back row of the theater. “How are we doing with the flakes?”

“Does he mean us?” Bria asked Scarlett.

Scarlett pointed to a box of white confetti floating high above their heads. “I think that's what he means. It's a snow machine.”

On cue, delicate white flakes wafted down from the ceiling. “Cue the music!” Mr. Minnelli shouted.

The “Waltz of the Snowflakes” song filled the air.

“Too loud!” Marcus yelled to the sound crew.
He was seated at Mr. Minnelli's side, frantically taking notes on what needed to be fixed.

The girls began their dance. A white flake fell on Bria's nose. It tickled, and she tried to subtly sweep it off before it made her sneeze.

“No flicking flakes!” Marcus bellowed at her.

She was so busy dodging clumps of white confetti that she didn't realize she was
pirouetting
to the left while everyone else was going right.

“You!” Mr. Minnelli barked. “You're going the wrong way!”

“I'm sorry,” she apologized. “I was kind of daydreaming.”

Marcus stormed down the aisle of seats and up the stairs to the stage. He repositioned Bria stage right.

“Pay attention,” he said firmly.

He jotted a note in his binder, which Bria was sure wasn't a compliment.

“He hates me,” she whispered to Scarlett.

“Hate is a strong word.” Scarlett tried to make her feel better. “Just make sure you follow my lead.”

When the waltz started up again, Bria was careful to stay in line and turn in the same direction as the rest of the ballerinas. The girls each held a snowy white branch in their hands as they floated
en pointe
around the stage. The branches reminded Bria of her plant biology experiment. Why wouldn't that little lima bean grow, no matter how much she watered it? How was she supposed to turn in her lab report about chlorophyll if it wouldn't cooperate?

“Glide, glide!” Marcus barked, watching them carefully. “You are supposed to be dancing on ice, not in mud!”

Bria tried her best to look graceful and keep up with the complicated choreography. It was all going smoothly, until she had to wave her branches high above her head and lean to the left.

“Ouch!” shrieked a girl next to her. “Watch where you wave that thing! You could have poked my eye out!”

“I'm so sorry!” Bria said, once again halting the rehearsal. “It was an accident. Really!”

Marcus had seen enough. “You!” he snapped at Bria. “Come over here.”

Bria looked at Scarlett and sent her a
telepathic SOS
. She tiptoed over to the corner of the stage where her director was standing.

“Your dancing lacks focus,” he told her sternly. “Is there a reason why?”

Bria sighed. “Would you like a list? I have a term paper due on Friday. My math midterm is in a week, and I have no idea how to solve a quadratic equation. Oh! And did I mention I am going to fail science if I don't figure out why my lima beans aren't sprouting. That's it—in a nutshell.” She smiled. “No pun intended.”

She waited for her director to explode into a Miss Toni–esque tirade. Instead, his face softened. “You know, when I was in middle school, I had a very hard time keeping up with my studies and my dancing,” he said quietly.

“You? You had a hard time?” Bria gasped. “You're a legend in ballet.”

Marcus cleared his throat. “Yes, well, even
so, my parents put a great deal of pressure on me to excel. I assume you know what I'm talking about.”

Bria nodded. “Absolutely! If I don't get at least a B plus, I can't be on the Divas team.”

“So here's what I propose,” Marcus continued. “When you are here in rehearsal, you focus solely on the task at hand. And when you're at home and in school, you're not allowed to think about
The Nutcracker
.”

Bria thought it over. It made sense and seemed so simple—why hadn't she thought of it? She always felt distracted, as if a million ideas were battling to get out of her brain at the same time. If she could just keep them from getting in her way …

“And if you need some extra practice time, just let me know,” he said. “I think you have a lot of talent. You just have to get your head in the game.”

Bria nodded and took her place again in the snowflake line. This time, as she put school out of her mind, her dancing was graceful and
flawless. Marcus gave her a thumbs-up, and Mr. Minnelli breathed a sigh of relief.

The next group to run its scene was the toy soldiers. Hayden and Rochelle took their places in the front row. “Today's the first day we work with our props,” Marcus said. He and Miss Andrea distributed wooden rifles.

“Cool,” Hayden whispered to Rochelle. He twirled his fake rifle effortlessly in the air and switched it from shoulder to shoulder. Rochelle tried to copy him, but it fell out of her hands and clattered to the floor.

“Butterfingers,” Hayden teased, but Rock could feel her cheeks burning. All the boys in the scene laughed and pointed at her. She was happy to be the only girl in the soldier corps—she liked to be the center of attention—but not when she made a stupid, clumsy mistake.

“These prop rifles are probably heavier than the broomsticks we've been using in practice,”
Marcus instructed them. “Handle them with care.” He cued the sound crew, and the battle scene music swelled. The group marched in perfect unison around the stage.

“Higher, higher,” he said, correcting Rochelle as she struggled to keep the rifle suspended above her head.

When they finished, she was panting. “That thing must weigh at least fifty pounds!”

Hayden held the rifle in one hand as if it were light as a feather. “I'd say about six pounds. You just have weak muscles.”

Rochelle raised an eyebrow. “Are you calling me a wimp?”

Hayden chuckled. “Rock, take it easy! I'm kidding around. I'm just saying you are the only girl who's playing a soldier and maybe it's a little tough for you …”

Rochelle crossed her arms over her chest. “Because I'm a girl and I can't cut it?” she challenged him. “Is that what you think?”

Hayden shrugged. He didn't know what else
to say. Clearly, he had put his foot in his mouth. “Maybe you just need a lighter rifle?”

Rochelle shoved the prop at Hayden and marched off to her friends in a huff.

Hayden handed both back to Marcus. “I don't get it. Did I say something wrong?”

“I am not one to give advice in the love department,” the director insisted. “When I was your age, I had a knack for saying and doing everything wrong.”

Hayden suspected he was talking about his breakup with Miss Toni when they were teenagers at American Ballet Company. Rochelle and Scarlett had filled him in on everything.

“What I will tell you is this,” Marcus continued. “You want to patch things up before they get in the way of the ballet. And that's not a suggestion. It's an order.”

Hayden looked over at Rochelle. He swore he saw steam coming out of her ears. “She's really mad at me. How do I patch things up when she won't even speak to me?”

Marcus demonstrated a graceful
saut de basque
into a bended knee on the stage.

“Okay, I get it,” Hayden said. “Beg.”

He went over to Rochelle and did the same dance move. He kneeled at Rock's feet and took her hand and kissed it.

“Get up,” Rochelle said, tugging on his arm. “This is embarrassing.”

“I'm sorry,” Hayden apologized. “Please forgive me.”

“Aww,” Bria said, sighing. “This is so romantic!”

But Rochelle wasn't buying it. “I challenge you to a duel
en pointe
,” she told Hayden.

“A what?” he asked, scratching his head.

“You think you're such a big, strong guy. Try walking in my shoes for five minutes!”

She handed him a toe pad and one of her pointe shoes. “You stand on your toes and I'll stand on mine, and we'll see who lasts the longest.” She strapped on her left shoe and waited for Hayden to put on his.

“Rock, this is ridiculous. I don't wear toe shoes.”

“What's the matter? Too hard for you?” Rochelle taunted him.

“They won't even fit me.” Hayden tried to wiggle his way out of it.

“Try mine,” Anya offered. “I'm a size nine wide. I have huge feet like my dad.”

Hayden slipped his toes into Anya's shoe and laced the ribbon up his ankle.

“This is so silly,” he said, limping over to Rochelle. “What is this supposed to prove?”

“That everyone has his or her own strengths and weaknesses,” she said. She put on the right shoe and went up in
relevé
. “Do what I do. And Anya, you clock it.”

Anya hit the Stopwatch button on her phone. At a mere minute and a half, Hayden broke out into a sweat. “This really hurts, ya know?” he said.

“Does it?” Rochelle said, stifling a yawn. “Doesn't bother me at all. I could do this all day …”

Scarlett chuckled. She knew how much Rochelle hated toe shoes as well, but if it meant
teaching Hayden a lesson, she wasn't going to give up.

“Ow. Really. I'm losing feeling in my toes!” Hayden grimaced. “Can we please quit it?”

“Are you saying you can't take it? You're just not man enough to stand on your tippy toes as long as I can?”

“Fine!” Hayden exclaimed, dropping back to the soles of his feet and untying the shoes. “These kill. You win. I'm sorry for what I said. I don't think you're a wimp. I think you're incredible.”

Rochelle blushed. “Okay, okay. I forgive you. But if you ever insult my muscles again, I am going to use them on you.”

Hayden covered his face with his hands. “Please, don't hurt me!”

With the battle scene and “Waltz of the Snowflakes” under control, that left only one major scene in the Land of Sweets to tackle: Clara and the prince. Olivier took his position.

“Where is Gracie?” Mr. Minnelli called. “We're losing precious time!”

“Go on,” Liberty said, giving Gracie a lastminute pep talk. “Remember everything I told you.”

Scarlett didn't like the sound of that. “What did you tell her, Liberty?” she asked.

“I just told her that I believed in her, and that she was the star of this ballet. No one should stand in her way.”

Gracie shouted back to the choreographer. “In a sec! I have to go freshen up!” Then she skipped off to her dressing room, leaving everyone waiting.