Pirouette (2 page)

two

As she stood in the wings, heart pounding, pulse racing, Hannah Segal felt as if she might explode. The final minutes before a performance were always sheer agony, and tonight was no exception. The younger students were always on first, so Hannah had been waiting for over half an hour. She wished she could fast-forward time.

Then wonderfully, magically, the music for her dance began, and finally she burst onto the stage and into the spotlight.

Nothing was quite as exhilarating as dancing in front of a large audience—at no other time did she feel so intensely alive. As she leaped across the stage in her sleeveless red and yellow unitard, she looked like a streak of fire or a bolt of lightning.

In a flash, the dance was over, and Hannah left the stage to a roar of applause.

After three more dances—each as dreamlike and wonderful as the one before—Hannah found herself taking her final bows along with the rest of the students from her dance school. Minutes later, after changing back into her street clothes, she floated through a sea of people in the foyer.

Straight away she spotted her dad, who towered over everyone else.

“Hannah, my love! What a tremendous performance,” he said as he embraced her.

“You were wonderful, darling,” said her mother, kissing her cheek.

“That was cool, sis,” said thirteen-year-old Adam, her younger brother.

Within seconds, Hannah was surrounded by more relatives, along with several friends from Carmel College.

“Way to go, Hannah,” called her best friend Dani, pushing a path toward her through the noisy crowd.

Hannah couldn't stop grinning.

The only feeling that could equal dancing onstage was the buzz that came after—all the excitement and none of the tension.

If only it could last forever!

Hannah woke up smiling, remembering the night before.

She loved performing, loved that sense of losing herself inside the dance and bringing pleasure to an audience who'd become so engrossed in what was happening onstage that, for a while at least, they forgot their problems.

She lay in bed, relaxed and happy, recalling the almost unbearable excitement that preceded the show, the concentration of energy that enabled her to perform at her very best, and the warmth of applause.

She wished she could repeat the whole experience sometime soon …

But Armadale Dance was just a local dance school. She'd have to wait an entire year for the next annual production.

Hannah felt something sink inside her. She didn't want to wait so long. Nor did she want to face the prospect of a whole summer without a single dance class.

If only she were able to attend Candance—the famous summer intensive. For years she'd wanted to fly to Canberra for the popular summer school, but every year her parents had said she was too young to spend three weeks alone. This year, she'd finally convinced them that at fifteen and a half she was old enough, but by the time they'd agreed, there were no places left. Though her name had been put on a waiting list, she didn't hold out much hope of being able to go.

Hannah sighed. She loved her parents. They were warm, wonderful people, and she often thought of herself as having won the lottery. But Manfred and Vanessa Segal had one failing
—they'd never really understood her need to dance. That was the real reason they hadn't allowed her to go to Candance the previous year, or the year before that. The truth was, they thought that too much dancing would interfere with her education, and though they let her dance three times a week, they didn't want her “getting unrealistic ideas about becoming a dancer.”

Hannah climbed out of bed feeling downhearted. Just moments before, the day had seemed so full of promise. Now, despite—or perhaps because of—the thrill of the night before, she felt oddly flat. The six-week vacation loomed ahead of her—long and empty.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Hannah, sweetie, I've made you pancakes. You must be hungry.”

“Thanks, Mum.” Hannah opened the door, and the smell of something sweet and doughy lured her downstairs.

She was swallowing her last mouthful when the phone rang.

“Could you get that?” called Vanessa, who was just leaving for Malvern Medical Center, where she worked as a GP four days a week.

Hannah picked up the phone absentmindedly, thinking it might be Dani or one of her other friends from Carmel College.

The voice on the line was unfamiliar. “Could I speak to Hannah Segal?”

“Speaking,” said Hannah.

“This is Jocelyn Jones from Candance Summer School. I'm calling to let you know that we've had a cancellation. You're next on the waiting list, so if you'd like to join us at Candance—”

“I would,” said Hannah, before the woman could finish the sentence.

three

The automatic doors opened as Simone approached Domestic Departures. She entered the cool interior of the terminal, then stopped abruptly. For a second, she thought she saw a girl who looked exactly like her—the same long chestnut hair, the same warm complexion, the same green eyes …

Simone blinked and looked again, but the girl had gone.

A few steps ahead, Harriet stopped when she realized her daughter wasn't beside her. “Simone, what's wrong?”

Simone barely heard. She was scanning the faces of the people around her, hoping to spot the girl again, but she was nowhere in sight. How had she disappeared so quickly? Perhaps she'd gone back inside the terminal …

Simone turned back for one last look through the automatic doors. They were glass, and so shiny they were almost invisible.
Like mirrors
, she thought. Of course! That was it. She must have seen her own reflection. In which case, she and the other girl would have been dressed identically. Had they been? She couldn't remember; it had all happened so quickly.

“Hurry up, Simone. You'll miss your plane.”

Simone wished she had the courage to refuse to go.

As the plane flew higher in the sky and Melbourne grew smaller before her eyes, Simone became more and more miserable. Now it really was too late to turn back. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. The three-week break from dancing had done little to alleviate her exhaustion, and all she really wanted to do with her summer was relax. Now there was no chance of that. Once again she was on her way to Candance, where she'd have a busy schedule of ballet, jazz, and contemporary dance.

Simone let out a heavy sigh. She knew that everything her mother did was with her interests at heart, and she hated the thought of appearing ungrateful. But she felt crushed under the weight of her mother's ambition.

The worst thing about being adopted, Simone thought as the stewardess handed her a glass of juice, was that you felt so indebted—though perhaps children raised by their biological parents felt just as beholden and just as reluctant to upset them.

The plane rocked unsteadily as it hit a patch of turbulence, and the
Fasten Seat Belt
sign flashed on. For a second Simone thought she might throw up. She was reminded of the last time she
had
thrown up—less than half an hour before her last performance, three weeks earlier. She'd barely made it to the stage on time.

At one time, Simone had loved performing, had loved the limelight. But since starting at the VSD three years ago, she'd come to dread it. Instead of feeling more at home onstage as she'd grown older, she'd become increasingly tense and nervous with each performance—a fact that no one seemed to notice, as she'd learned to hide it. The worst of it was that it was ruining her love of dance. Once she had loved ballet with a passion; now she was starting to hate it.

If we crash
, she thought as the plane lurched sideways,
and I die on the spot, all my problems will be solved
. Alarmed that such a drastic thought had even entered her head, Simone vowed to talk to her mother just as soon as she was back in Melbourne. Her mum just had to know that she couldn't continue living the life that was planned for her, no matter how disappointing that might be.

But first, she had three weeks of dance to contend with.

Hannah fled the airport, biting back tears. Now she would miss the first, the most important, day of Candance, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. The plane she was scheduled to fly out on had developed engine trouble, and though there were two more flights to Canberra that day, both were full, and she'd been informed at the check-in that even if there were any last-minute cancellations, priority would be given to those passengers who had arrived before her and were already on stand-by. She would just have to come back again the following day.

As Hannah waited stoically for the bus that would take her back to the city, a part of her wanted to commiserate with family or friends. Her phone was in her bag, but she didn't trust herself to use it, suspecting that at the first sound of a friendly voice, the tears she was struggling to keep at bay would finally burst into full-blown sobs.

Besides, who would she call? Her mum would be busy at the clinic, her phone switched off. There was always her dad, who'd driven her to the airport earlier and wanted to wait till she'd boarded the plane, but Hannah had insisted he leave. If she called him now, he'd drop whatever he was doing and rush straight back. But right now she wasn't sure she wanted to be around his good-natured effusiveness.

She needed time to nurse her disappointment on her own.

Only half an hour earlier, she'd been so excited, so full of enthusiasm. Everything around her had looked rich and vibrant. Now the world seemed drab and leached of color.

She was still trying not to cry as the bus pulled up and she hoisted her suitcase into the baggage compartment. But her eyes were watery and her vision blurred as she climbed on board and took a seat toward the back. She couldn't remember ever feeling quite so frustrated.

As the bus made its way along the City Link, Hannah stared out the window, unseeing. It seemed absurd that she was heading away from the airport, when all she wanted to do was board that plane.

Except for Kimmy, the Segals' faithful hound, the house was deserted when Hannah came home. The Labrador, as always sensing when something was wrong, rubbed against her, his mournful-dog eyes oozing compassion. Hannah knelt down beside him and buried her face in his golden fur, her damp eyes turning it a muddy brown.

By the time Vanessa came home from work, Hannah was standing in the kitchen quietly gazing out of the window. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother give a little jump.

“Hannah! What are you doing here? I thought I'd seen a ghost. You should have been in Canberra hours ago.”

Dry-eyed now but still subdued, Hannah struggled to maintain her composure. “The flight was cancelled. They said I have to go back tomorrow.”

“Oh, sweetie!” Vanessa threw her arms around her daughter. “Are you sure you can't get on a plane tonight?”

Hannah shook her head, her voice breaking as she an-swered. “They said that all the flights are full. There's a shortage of planes.”

The kindness in her mother's face almost made Hannah start weeping all over again, but she pulled herself together when Adam sauntered in. His iPod peeped out of one pocket and he was singing along to “What's Eatin' You.” Hannah grimaced. More ironic than the song's name was the fact that it was by a band called Airborne.

Noticing his sister, Adam stopped mid-song. “Hey, I thought you'd gone.”

“Nope.” She tried to turn it into a joke. “You're stuck with me for one more night.”

“Cool,” said Adam.

Hannah followed him into the living room. Hanging out with her brother had to be better than moping in her room. But as she sat beside him on the couch, staring at the large TV, she had no idea what was on the screen.

Manfred walked in just as the show was finishing. Having clearly been briefed by Vanessa, he showed no sign of surprise. “Hannah, my love! I can't tell you how happy it makes me to have you with us another day. I was missing you already.” He leaned down to kiss her.

Hannah pulled a face at him and pretended to stick her fingers down her throat. Deep down, though, she was glad she had such loving parents. It was good to be wanted.

Later that night, as she lay in bed, she forced herself to look on the bright side. Tomorrow, come what may, she'd be on that plane.

She conjured up an image of a bright, airy studio, a group of passionate students and even more passionate teachers. She saw herself perfecting every step.

Finally, listening to “My Love” on her iPod and thinking of a moving contemporary performance she'd seen on
So You Think You Can Dance
, she fell asleep to visions of herself as the female dancer, flinging herself headlong into the powerful arms of her love-struck partner.

four

“I forgot to give you this,” said Manfred the following morning, slipping his Kindle into his daughter's overnight bag. “I've downloaded a few more new releases.”

Hannah looked up from her bowl of cornflakes. “Dad, I don't think I'll have time to read.”

“Sure you will. At least on the plane.” He picked up Hannah's bright red suitcase and carried it out to the trunk of the car, while Vanessa once again issued last-minute instructions, as if in the space of twenty-four hours Hannah might have forgotten them. “Now, remember to call me as soon as you arrive.”

“I will, Mum.”

“And if you've forgotten anything, just go buy it.”

“Yes, Mum.”

“Have you got your bankcard and your credit card?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I guess you're all set then. Oh, just one more thing. If you get homesick—”

“I won't.”

“Okay,” said Vanessa, planting a kiss on her daughter's cheek. “Fingers crossed that everything goes smoothly at the airport this time. And I hope you have a really wonderful time.”

“Thanks, Mum.”

“I'll miss you.”

“It's only three weeks.” Hannah bent down and put her arms around Kimmy's neck, allowing him to lick her face. “Don't worry,” she said. “It's not like I'll be gone forever.”

Adam, just in from a morning swim at the neighbor's pool, came pushing past them. “Are you still here?” Barefoot and wearing a pair of board shorts, he reeked of chlorine.

“Can't wait to get rid of me, huh?” It was meant as a joke, but there was an unexpected tightening in her chest as Hannah hugged her brother goodbye.

Simone woke up with the sun streaming in through the window. Though the curtains were drawn, they didn't quite meet in the middle, and in any case they were too thin to keep the room in darkness. The bed opposite hers was empty. Everyone else in the dorm had a roommate, but for some reason Simone's roommate hadn't arrived. Though there were advantages to having a room to herself, like she did at home, it did feel lonely.

Simone brushed her teeth, showered, put on a leotard and tights, and slipped a skirt on top. Then she left the dorm and headed over to the Caff for breakfast.

Chatting eagerly among themselves, the other dance students were all looking forward to the day ahead: meeting the teachers, finding out what repertoires and routines they'd be performing in three weeks' time, and most of all, doing what they liked best—dancing. Simone couldn't help feeling like an outsider as snippets of their conversation reached her. The others all seemed so thrilled to be there. She alone wished she were elsewhere.

She thought of her mother, who'd already rung to ask her whether she'd been placed in the correct level—the highest one—and who her teachers were. Harriet would expect a full report, no details spared. Simone sighed.

She looked at the variety of breakfast foods her fellow students were tucking into. Though she had no appetite, she knew she'd need energy to get through the day.
I must stop feeling sorry for myself
, she thought. She forced herself to swallow a mouthful of toast, then made her way over to the studio for the compulsory warm-up.

Several of the other dancers had arrived before her. Some were stretching, while others were chatting, making introductions or catching up with friends they hadn't seen in nearly a year.

Simone looked around to see if she recognized anyone from previous summers. A boy with a pale face and sandy hair looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place him. Then she remembered—he lived in Canberra, and his name was Liam. He'd been a little on the short side last time she'd seen him, but he'd grown in the past eleven months. Now he towered over the rest of the class.

Next to him was a guy Simone had never met, with dark wavy hair and large brown eyes. He had classic, sculpted features, and Simone found herself staring. He must have felt her eyes on his face, because suddenly he turned and looked straight at her. Simone blushed and looked away.

“
Hey, Simone!” A striking girl with long, long legs and coal-black hair was calling her name. This was Sam, her friend from Sydney who came to Candance every year. They gave each other an affectionate hug. “How are you?” Sam started doing warm-up prances as she spoke and rushed on without waiting for an answer. “We've got Virginia Roth for warm-up and ballet. I'm so psyched I can't wait to start.”

“Looks like you don't have to,” said Simone as the famed Miss Roth appeared in the doorway.

“Great to see you all,” the ex-principal dancer said with a smile. “I'll just do a quick roll call before we begin. We'll start with the boys. Mitchell Brock?”

“Here.”

“Liam Cousins?”

“Yeah.”

“Tom Delaney?”

“That's me,” said the new guy, looking directly at Simone. She bit her lip and looked away, making a mental note to keep her eyes on the teacher for the rest of the lesson.