Abigail: Through the Looking Glass (2 page)

I understand what she means. At home, my dancing career is the most important thing in all our lives.

‘Special.’ I finish her sentence.

‘I’m the dancer,’ Tara says. ‘But here I’m not even ordinary; I’m worse.’

‘You do need to be really something to cut it,’ I say. ‘Not everyone makes it here.’

Tara’s face tells me everything. She’s heading home. I keep thinking about what Mum says. It’s not enough to be good. You have to be tough, and you have to be the best. That means getting rid of the competition. Let’s face it; life at the Academy is only going to get tougher. I don’t think Tara can handle it, and it’s better to face that now. She needs to run home to the country now.

That’s what I’m trying to explain later in the girls’ changing rooms.

‘Tara’s such a sweetie. I really do feel sorry for her.’

‘Can’t wait for you to tell us why,’ says Kat, with her usual sarcastic edge.

‘Obviously they had a quota of country kids to fill, which was the only reason they accepted her in the first place,’ I say. ‘But once they saw how behind she is they had to ask her to leave. I mean, it wouldn’t be fair to the rest of us, being dragged down like that.’

The door bursts open and Tara springs into the room like a wildcat. She’s glaring at me – she heard everything.

‘Abigail, my mum taught me if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.’

‘Tara!’ I exclaim, scrambling to think how to respond. ‘I thought you’d be packing?’

‘Why?’ she asks. ‘I’m not going anywhere. One bad class … You don’t honestly think that would be enough to make me quit?’

There’s something in her eyes that I haven’t noticed before. It kind of reminds me of Kat. And that’s
not
a good thing. I just want to get her away from me – I can’t stand her staring at me with those accusing eyes, as if I’m in the wrong. I was just being honest.

‘Well if you’re not going, I’ll be making an official complaint,’ I say. ‘I don’t see why my training needs to be compromised by some country hick who smells like a sheep and thinks she has–’

All I see is a blur as Tara’s hand flies towards me, holding a
pointe
shoe.

It takes ages to stop my nose bleeding. Who hits someone with a
pointe
shoe?

Now Tara wants me to sign a room exchange form so she can share with Kat instead. She can forget it. Why should I go out of my way to make them happy? Besides, enemy lines have been well and truly drawn, and Mum taught me to keep my friends close and my enemies closer.

Kat and Sammy are on a mission to make me change my mind. So far, nothing they’ve tried has even slightly come close.

Redecorating the room to look like a kitsch fifties country farmhouse must have taken them ages. I look at the patchwork horse-themed quilts, the cross-stitches on the walls, the porcelain horses and the old-fashioned mirror, and I make sure my face is expressionless. I reckon it’ll bother Tara a lot more than it bothers me.

They’ve covered my deodorant in fluff and blunted my razor, but they should never mess with
someone whose little sister enjoys practical jokes. They’re amateurs compared to Paige.

Tara is squeezing toothpaste onto her toothbrush as I walk into our room. I give it a few seconds before I speak.

‘Tara,’ I say, ‘you probably shouldn’t use that.’

I’m finding it hard not to laugh. I take a deep breath and control myself. Laughing now would spoil the whole effect.

‘Seeing as you felt comfortable enough to use my toiletries, I didn’t think you’d mind if I used that brush to clean my toenails,’ I say, casually, inspecting my toes. ‘They came up really well … ’

Tara is gagging as I grab my dance bag and leave. As I go, I hear Kat’s voice saying, ‘She’s good.’

It’s almost time for Miss Raine’s class, and Tara is lounging on her bed.

‘Taking your time?’ I say. ‘You of all people can’t afford to be late.’

I put my phone and keys on the bed, and go to the cupboard to get a jumper.

‘I’d better get a move on, then,’ she says.

I turn back to pick up my keys and phone, but they’ve gone. The door bangs shut behind Tara.

‘Hey!’ I yell.

I race to the door, but it’s locked. I pound on it with my fists.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I shout.

‘Abigail?’ says a muffled voice. ‘Is that you in there?’

That’s Kat’s voice! I might have known that she’d be behind a stunt like this.

‘Open the door!’ I demand, banging on the door again.

‘It’s not like you to be late for Miss Raine’s class …’ mocks Kat.

Meddling with my deodorant is one thing, but they can’t mess around with my career. I
need
to attend these classes!

‘I’m not kidding, Kat,’ I reply. ‘Open the door!’

‘Don’t worry,’ she says. ‘I’m willing to unlock this door and help you maintain your sickeningly perfect attendance record.’

She slides the room exchange form under the door.

‘All you have to do is sign on the dotted line,’ she says.

I push the form straight back. I’m not going to be blackmailed into anything.

‘Not in this lifetime,’ I say.

The form is slid back under the door. But they don’t realise that phones aren’t the only way to communicate. Tara’s computer is sitting in the corner. All I need to do is send an email and someone will be up here to let me out.

I sit down in front of the screen and open the email application. I’m just starting to type when I spot the document on Tara’s desktop. It’s called ‘Ethan’. I open it and can hardly believe my eyes. She’s written a list of pros and cons about Ethan!

This is the perfect way to show them what happens to people who try to stand in my way. It’ll stop them wanting to swap rooms, too. As soon as Kat finds out that Tara’s crushing on her brother, it’ll be the end of their friendship.

I hit ‘Send’. Everyone at the Academy is going to receive this.

‘Pop quiz,’ says Patrick, our teacher. ‘Who can tell me the real meaning of
pas de deux
?’

‘It means dance of two,’ I say.

‘That’s its literal translation,’ he says, ‘but what does it really mean? Beneath the French words? Metaphorically?’

I feel my cheeks growing hot, wishing that I hadn’t been so quick to answer. I try not to show that I don’t have a clue what he’s talking about.

‘Pas
de deux:
two bodies, one soul,’ he’s saying. ‘A guy and a girl dancing together to produce one pure emotion. That’s what today’s class is all about.’

It sounds awesome. In my mind’s eye I can already see myself being lifted into the air by my dance partner, creating art and magic on stage together.

I’m brought back down to Earth by the fact that Patrick’s holding up an egg.

‘There are three important ingredients in
pas de deux
,’ he says.

He tosses the egg to Christian, the guy who arrived at the Academy late. He’s looking moody and mysterious as usual. He catches the egg and throws it to Kat. She tosses it to Sammy.

‘Trust …’ says Patrick as the egg is thrown around, ‘… unity … and … ’

I catch the egg easily and throw it towards Tara … just as Ethan walks into the studio with Isabelle. Tara turns and the egg splats on the floor.

‘… communication,’ says Patrick. ‘Without them … well … ’

Tara looks as if she wishes the ground would open up beneath her. Kat has forgiven her, but she’s had a rough week, with everyone shouting out quotes from her pros and cons list about Ethan. She’s not speaking to me, which is totally unfair because she basically created the whole problem herself.

Patrick divides us into pairs. I’m with Sammy. Tara’s got Christian and she doesn’t look happy about it.

‘Focus on who you’re dancing with,’ says Patrick. ‘No one else should matter.’

That’s easy for him to say. He’s not holding Sammy’s warm, moist hands. I wish that I had a stronger partner – he even has to do
pointe
because his ankles are so weak. But even so, it’s exciting to start learning how to create a partnership, and I enjoy the class until Patrick drops a bombshell on us.

‘I’ve arranged with Miss Raine for you to have the rest of the day off from your regular classes,’ he says. ‘Instead, you’ll be doing an exercise for me. Same couples.’

We each have to choose a slip of paper from his cap. I cannot believe it. Clammy Sammy and I have to be tied together for twenty-four hours!

I just don’t get it. How is being tied to Sammy supposed to make me a better dancer?

Sammy seems to want to spend our entire challenge time going on about why I emailed Tara’s list to everyone. At dinner, he’s still talking about it. He’s chosen spaghetti bolognaise, which is
swimming
in oil. I focus on my small salad.

‘It just made you look bad,’ he says. ‘Do you not want people to like you?’

It’s bad enough that I have to be tied to Sammy – Patrick didn’t say anything about enduring constant criticism. Just because I give as good as I get doesn’t mean I actually want to be attacked all the time. I refuse to engage in the conversation and Sammy slides a plate of spaghetti in front of me.

‘Carbs after three?’ I exclaim. ‘I’d rather eat a deep-fried vending machine.’

Sammy is an idiot. He read the slip of paper wrong – it said two to four hours! Two
dash
four. I spent the entire night tied to him, with my arm dangling over the edge of the bed and him on the floor. But even that can’t really bring me down when I hear the news that the Company is back.

When I walk into the studio, Natasha Willis is standing there with Miss Raine. The excitement in the room is electric. Natasha Willis – world famous ballerina, Principal of the National Ballet. Oh yeah, and Kat’s mum.

Having Natasha Willis as a guest teacher is so awesome that I feel friendlier towards everyone. When I see Sammy in the common room with a girl I don’t recognise, I head over to join them. The girl’s
eating pizza. It’s sort of
wrong
that someone can sit in the Academy and get away with that sort of thing when I try so hard to get thinner.

‘Who are you?’ I ask. ‘You don’t go here.’

‘How can you tell?’ asks the girl.

I look at the pizza she’s holding up to her mouth and she laughs. She seems friendly and relaxed. It turns out that her name is Mia, and she’s Sammy’s girlfriend. I’ve heard him mention someone before, but I always kind of got the impression that she was … well … imaginary.

‘Would you like some pizza, Abigail?’ she’s asking.

‘She doesn’t do carbs after three,’ Sammy puts in.

I can’t help but smile. He remembered … and that means he pays more attention to me than I imagined. Maybe there was a point to Patrick’s exercise after all. I need my dance partner to listen to what I say.

Another thing that will help me become a better dancer is watching the Company perform. They’re doing
Swan Lake
tonight and I’m desperate to see it! I hear Sammy has tickets, and I find him sitting on the stairs, staring miserably at his phone.

‘I heard you had some tickets to this afternoon’s performance,’ I say.

‘I wouldn’t, you know, ask,’ I continue, ‘but for some reason I haven’t been able to source any. Which is irritating because it’s
Swan Lake
and that’s something I’ve obviously got to see.’

Sammy has zoned out, slack-jawed and glazed over. He’s staring at me as if I’m an alien.

‘So?’ I say, after a moment’s silence.

‘Yes,’ he exclaims. ‘We can absolutely go to the ballet together!’

I’m not sure why he’s shouting it – but at least I have a ticket.

I’m already in the common room when Sammy arrives alone. He gabbles something about my dress and then seems to want to leave.

‘Where’s Mia?’ I ask.

‘Hmmm?’ He’s doing that weird look again.

‘Your girlfriend?’ I remind him.

‘Oh,’ he says. ‘No, it’s just us two today. I think she’s coming down with something.’

He chokes and coughs.

‘Nothing contagious,’ he adds. ‘I’m not sick. Mint blockage.’

Suddenly, Mia bounds into the common room.

‘Sammy!’ she cries. ‘You are seriously going to love me. There wasn’t a ticket left on the planet,’ Mia’s saying, ‘but Dad knows this guy who pulls strings.’

She hands him the tickets and looks at me.

‘You look nice, Abigail,’ she says. ‘Are you going to the ballet as well?’

All I can do is nod. I can see exactly what Sammy’s done, and it sucks. Why would he lie to Mia like that?

‘Together?’ she asks, her eyes full of hurt.

Sammy won’t even look at her. Mia’s face crumples.

‘Silly me,’ she says softly.

She turns and walks out of the common room. I look at Sammy. At least he has the grace to look guilty.

‘If they’re going to waste …’ I say, looking at the tickets.

He holds them out, and I take them and leave the room. I’m not going to get caught up in other people’s melodramas.

It’s the biggest betrayal in the world when your own body turns against you.

I’m staring into the mirror, trying to
will
it not to be true. I’ve put a flesh-coloured boob tube over the top of my sports bra, but if they carry on growing, that won’t be enough to flatten them.

Why does this have to happen now? I feel like crying, but Tara might walk in and see. We don’t speak much any more, and she might use it against me.

I tighten my lips, lift my chin higher, and pull on my leotard. It’s no good – I can see them through it. I’m just going to have to keep my crossover on in class. It’s baggy enough to cover these
things
up.

I should have known Miss Raine would notice.

‘Abigail, you’re out of uniform.’

‘I’m still a little cold,’ I say.

‘Were you here for warm up?’ she raps out.

‘Of course.’

‘Then take that thing off,’ she says. ‘I need to be able to correct your body. Unless of course you think I have nothing to teach you?’

‘Of course not, Miss Raine,’ I think fast, ‘it’s just I think I might be coming down with something. I feel a bit shivery.’