Abigail: Through the Looking Glass (4 page)

Things only get worse when we leave the ferry, and it all comes to a head in the middle of Circular Quay. Kat and Sammy head off – embarrassed by our bickering. As soon as they’ve gone I turn and glare at my sister.

‘I put a lot of time I don’t have into planning this weekend,’ I tell her. ‘You’ve completely ruined it.’

‘Big deal,’ Paige snaps. ‘You’ve ruined my whole life. We can’t go on holidays because Abigail has a concert. No chocolate ice-cream in the freezer because Abigail’s on a diet.’

She’s being such a brat!

‘Like anyone needs chocolate ice-cream,’ I remark.

‘Mum moves us to Sydney to be near you, and you never even visit,’ she goes on.

‘I am at the National Academy of Dance,’ I remind her. ‘I have classes every day.’

‘Why is it always about you?’

Where is this coming from? I don’t understand – it’s not fair. I’m not a monster, but Paige is acting as if she hates me.

‘Because you’re not special,’ I say. ‘You’re just a little girl – over-tired, over-stimulated and chock full of preservatives.’

Paige’s eyes are full of hurt. I feel a pang of guilt.

‘Yeah, well just as long as I’m not like you,’ she shouts.

I spin around and walk away, but I feel guilty almost as soon as I’ve done it. I stop and turn around. I hate it when I lose my temper.

She’s gone.

My world flips upside down, and so does my stomach.

‘Paige!’ I yell. ‘Paige!’

There’s no sign of her. I walk on and pause beside a rubbish bin. On the top is the toy dog. I pick it up, my heart twisting in my chest. What have I done?

I’ve searched the whole of Circular Quay, but Paige is nowhere to be seen. I’m finding it hard to breathe – and not just because I’ve been running. My whole body is tight with fear. Where has she gone?

When we were younger, Paige was like my shadow. She thought everything I did was wonderful. And I just took it for granted – took
her
for granted. Why did I never realise how lucky I was to have her? To have a little sister who looked up to me, admired me? I just assumed she would always be like that, and now I’ve lost her … in more ways than one.

I call Kat and tell her what’s happened. She’s amazingly calm and says she’ll check at the Academy. Hopefully Paige will have made her way back there.

I search everywhere I can think of, but I can’t find Paige anywhere. If Kat had found her she would have
called. I head back to the Academy, my stomach knotted with fear and worry. We’re going to have to do a proper search – maybe the others will help me. Or should I just call the police?

They’re not in Kat’s room, so I head for Sammy’s. They’re all in here – Paige, Sammy, Kat and Christian – and they’re playing a board game! I’m caught between massive relief to see Paige and a horrible, gnawing hurt. There’s a huge lump in my throat.

‘Well, this is cosy,’ I manage to say. ‘So sorry to interrupt.’

They all stare at me in alarm. I’ve caught them out.

‘We just got here!’ Sammy exclaims.

If I stay here I’m going to burst into tears right in front of them. I turn and head for my room. I sit down on my bed and stare into space. My eyes won’t focus properly.

The door opens and Paige walks in and I find my voice.

‘Did you and Kat plan that?’ I ask her. ‘Turn Abigail into a screaming, freaked-out mess.’

‘We didn’t plan anything,’ she says in a small voice.

‘Yes you did,’ I say, clipping my words. ‘And you know what? You did me a favour. Now I know you all hate me.’

‘Nobody hates you,’ she says.

I don’t need to hear that pitying tone from my own sister.

‘Go barnacle yourself to Kat,’ I tell her.

‘Sammy really likes you, and you treat him like dirt,’ Paige goes on as if I haven’t spoken. ‘Mum and Dad love you so much we’re all split between two cities.’

‘Paige,’ I say. ‘Get out.’

‘Even I don’t,’ she continues. ‘Only
you
hate you.’

I’m too tired to keep up the barriers any more. ‘I usually hate weekends but I really looked forward to this one,’ I say.

Paige turns, pulls something out of her backpack and hands it to me. It’s a card. She’s obviously made it herself. On the front is a love heart and a drawing of me dancing. Inside is a drawing of us both, side by side, holding hands. I’m in a tutu and dance shoes, Paige is wearing gumboots and overalls. It says, ‘Thank You’.

‘I made it for you,’ she says, making the quotation mark sign. ‘Actual hug?’

I know I have to think about everything Paige has said, but right now I just want things to be okay. I look at her, and she leans towards me. Our arms
go around each other. I feel stiff and awkward, and I’m crying, but for now, it’s enough to make me feel better.

Exams.

My life is a world of exams. Academic exams. Dancing exams. My future depends on exams. And anyone who says that exams don’t matter can just stay away from me.

The contemporary and classical exams go fine. The others bleat on about their stomachs and their fears, asking each other what happens to them when they get nervous, but I’m not listening. I’m focused. I’m in control. And I am first into the studio. It’s the
pas de deux
exam I’m worried about. And that’s why right now I’m standing outside a stinky toilet cubicle in the boys’ change room.

‘So for some unknown reason …’ I begin, ‘… maybe I killed someone in a past life … you’re my partner in the
pas de deux
exam.’

‘Abigail?’ says Sammy’s surprised voice. ‘Is that you?’

‘They’re obviously trying to challenge me, which is fine,’ I say, ‘but also completely unfair if it affects my scholarship chances.’

The toilet flushes and Sammy emerges, looking bewildered.

‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘Exam stomach. Does that happen when you get nervous?’

‘No,’ I say. ‘We clearly have a lot of work to do. And by “we” you do know I mean “you”, right?’

I stare meaningfully at the sink until he catches on and goes over to wash his hands.

‘One on one?’ he asks. ‘Awesome. I have physiology on Wednesday but after that …’

‘I’ve booked the studio for every night this week,’ I tell him.

‘Right,’ he says, staring at me. ‘So I’ll just study instead of sleeping.’

Now he’s getting the idea.

I’m jogging along my usual route beside the harbour when I see Miss Raine ahead.

‘Abigail, it’s exam week,’ she says. ‘Shouldn’t you be conserving energy?’

‘I don’t think enough of us worry about cardio,’ I reply.

Miss Raine keeps walking.

‘I wonder if that’s something the scholarship committee takes into account?’ I say, trying to steer the conversation towards my chances.

‘I wonder,’ she murmurs.

I give up being subtle. Life’s too short.

‘Do you know if my name is on the shortlist?’ I ask. ‘It’s just … I’ve worked harder than anyone since day one.’

‘You have,’ Miss Raine agrees.

I have a moment of elation before she adds, ‘There are other factors.’

‘Such as?’

‘Abigail, you’re a smart dancer. You know there are certain limitations to your technique.’

Her words are like arrows stabbing into me, but I keep my face expressionless.

‘I had them, too,’ she goes on. ‘Others have more natural potential. We have to work to the best of our ability, which you’ve been doing.’

‘But you’re saying it still might not be enough?’ I ask, not sure if I want to hear the answer.

For a moment Miss Raine looks almost human.

‘Sometimes ballet can be as unfair as it is unforgiving,’ she says, ‘but in my experience hard work can overcome most obstacles.’

She sweeps away, leaving me standing still.

What Miss Raine said makes me so scared. It’s the most scared I’ve ever felt. Do I really have limitations that I can’t get beyond? I can still hear her words – it’s as if they’re echoing around me, jeering at me.
Limitations. Limitations.

It’s the
pas de deux
exam tomorrow. I’m so wired I could probably power the whole city. I have to push my body and
make
it do the things I tell it to do. I have to control everything that goes into my body and make it obey me absolutely.

I want a final practice, but Sammy doesn’t seem to care that he has to work on his lift.

‘You sure you don’t want to take the night off?’ he asks. ‘You’re looking kind of tense.’

‘You’re telling me I look tense?’ I repeat in disbelief.

I see alarm flash into his eyes. Am I that scary?

‘Tense and beautiful,’ he says. ‘Plus, realistically, there’s only so much work you can do–’

‘If they gave me a real partner I wouldn’t have to work so hard,’ I snap.

I turn to go, but Sammy follows me.

‘You know, misplaced anger is often a by-product of low blood sugar,’ he tells me. ‘When was the last time you ate something?’

His voice is strangely far away and echoey.

‘My blood sugar is fine,’ I tell him. ‘My only problem is you.’

I just need to be alone. I don’t know why I’m being so crabby. I walk out of his sight and stop. I feel a bit like I’m standing on the deck of a ship or something. Strange. I shake my head and keep walking, heading for the studio.

I practise and practise and practise. If I work hard enough, I will get this right. I don’t know how long I have been working for when I look up and see Sammy in the doorway.

I’m so happy to see him, it makes me feel weak. I could almost throw my arms around him!

‘I want to do well, too,’ he says. ‘I just don’t think there’s any point killing ourselves in the process.’–

‘That’s where you and I differ,’ I say, only halfjoking.

We take our positions and begin to rehearse. I’m enjoying dancing with him tonight more than I have before. He’s focused and we’re working together better than usual. In fact, it feels as if we’re working together properly for the first time.

Finally we get the shoulder lift right. It’s an incredible feeling – like having wings.

‘Yes!’ Sammy yells. ‘We got it! Awesome!’

He twirls me around. I wriggle down to the ground – we haven’t mastered it yet.

‘We should do it again, straight away,’ I say. ‘Make sure it sticks.’

I find myself swaying on the deck of a ship again.

‘What’s wrong?’ Sammy asks.

‘I’m fine,’ I say, but my voice is far away. ‘Just a bit dizzy. It passes.’

‘What do you mean?’ he asks, his tone of voice altering. ‘Does this happen often? Abigail, this could be serious!’

‘Stop procrastinating–’

‘Seriously – when was the last time you ate something?’ he asks.

‘I eat okay,’ I tell him.

‘Not this week,’ Sammy says. ‘I haven’t even seen you drink water.’

‘I’m not interested in being bloated,’ I state.

‘Your body needs fuel,’ he says. ‘You’d better see Dr Wicks.’

This is silly – he is
not
hauling me in front of a doctor just for controlling what I put into my body.

‘No,’ I tell him. ‘What I need is to get through tomorrow’s exam. After that I’ll rest all holidays.’

‘No, this isn’t right–’

I have a sudden vision of Dr Wicks shaking her head, and fear floods through me.

‘They won’t let me dance and then there’s no way I’ll win the scholarship,’ I say, trying to stop my voice from shaking. ‘You have to promise me you won’t tell anyone.’

I see his expression change; he’s caving.

‘On one condition,’ he says.

He reaches into his bag and pulls out some homemade pastries. ‘Mum sent me these for luck,’ he says, handing them to me.

They’re not exactly what I’d call appetising, but I take them and smile at him. This is not the moment to tell him what I’m really thinking.

The
pas de deux
exam is about to begin. At the front of the studio, the panel is waiting, their eyes sharp and alert. I feel as if I’m not really here. I didn’t get much sleep last night.

I dance through our routine but I know I’m not at my best. Sammy is moving well, but I feel as if I’m dancing in fog, unable to see the floor or the room around me or even my partner. My legs are shaking, and now it’s time for the shoulder lift. We did it last night – I know we can do it again. But at the last moment I misjudge it – I’m slipping through Sammy’s hands.

Sammy manages to cover the mistake by turning it into a different move. But there’s no way that’s going to get past Miss Raine. Sure enough, she stops the music and walks over to us.

‘Abigail, this isn’t like you,’ she says in a low voice. ‘Go back and start again please. And this time, for your sake, put some life into it.’

I think I nod, but my body is slipping out of my control, and my ears are filled with a strange, buzzing sound.

‘Bees,’ I say aloud.

‘What?’ Sammy asks.

‘I remembered what happens when I get nervous,’ I say, and my voice isn’t my own. ‘I hear bees.’

The music begins again, but I can barely hear a note over the buzzing. It’s getting louder and louder, and it’s so hot in here … and now the world is telescoping down into a single, black pinprick, and my legs won’t hold me up any longer.

I
never
thought I’d say this, but Sammy is actually kind of cool.

To collapse in front of the exam panel and all the other students is bad enough, but then to be sent home early to face my mum makes me feel like an amoeba. Sometimes I catch Mum looking at me out of the corner of her eye and I know I’ve let her down.

At first I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to leave my room again. But Sammy is totally nonjudgmental. He makes it easier to go out and face the world again.

I shouldn’t have stopped eating, but I hate that I have to see a therapist because of it. His name’s Adam, and he gets me to talk about pointless things like ‘when I was happiest’. What does any of that matter? What’s important is how I get back
on track. I’m keeping the perfect diary and eating the perfect diet, and the sooner they realise I’m fine, the better. Maybe then they’ll decide I can dance again.

I’ve never had this much time on my hands. I’m waiting for Adam to realise that I’m fit to dance. He says I can go dancing with a friend ‘for the love of it’, but I can’t do ballet, attend classes or even practise in the studio. He wants me to find other interests, but that shows me how little he understands. I miss it every waking moment. I miss it every
sleeping
moment! I woke myself up last night by trying to do a
grand jete
in my sleep.