Attitude (10 page)

Cam stood by me though. She believed in me. And now Edie's admitted what she did, and tomorrow the teachers will know the truth. My name will be cleared, and that ugly black mark will be rubbed away.

Maybe I can't dance right now, but I still don't want to quit.

“I'll stay,” I tell her.

She just smiles. “I figured.”

* * *

The next day—Friday—my ankle is really sore. I hardly slept, because every time I rolled over, the pain woke me up. I take two painkillers and decide to persuade Mrs. Harrison to take me to the academy with Edie anyway.

“I can still learn stuff by watching,” I point out at breakfast. “Oops. Sorry, I just spilled some…” I'm trying to pour milk onto my cereal while balancing on the crutches we borrowed from the hospital.

“Here, let me help.” She takes the bowl from me and puts it on the kitchen table. “Are you quite sure you wouldn't rather just take it easy?”

I hop over to my seat. “Yeah. It'll be a distraction.”

“I'm so sorry I can't take the day off,” Mrs. Harrison says. “It's just that I have these meetings all morning that have taken weeks to arrange.”

Edie pours me a glass of orange juice. “She said she wants to watch the classes, Mom.”

“It's fine,” I say. “Edie's right. I don't want to miss the classes.”

Mrs. Harrison takes a last sip of her coffee and puts the mug down on the kitchen counter. “Edie's always saying a dancer has to have courage, passion and dedication.” She smiles at me. “I'd say you have all three.”

Sixteen

“Are you okay? You look like you're about to throw up,” I whisper to Edie as we enter the school. I'm hopping along on my crutches, the impact of every step triggering a throbbing ache in my bandaged ankle, but Edie's moving even more slowly than I am. I stand still for a moment, resting, and let her catch up.

She nods, then changes her mind and shakes her head. “Just nervous about talking to Diana. You know, about the Facebook thing.”

“Yeah.” I look away. It seems a bit insensitive to let her see how happy I am about this when I know how awful it will be for her. I guess I should be mad at her, but at this point I actually feel kind of sorry for her. “Are you going to tell them it was Melissa's idea?”

“I haven't decided,” she says. “I don't want it to look like I'm trying to blame someone else. I mean, I was the one who did it.”

“Yeah. But still.” It doesn't seem right that Melissa will get away with everything she's done.

Edie's eyes are pink-rimmed. “I'll see you in class,” she says.

I watch her walk down the hall to the office. Then I turn and hobble slowly toward the studio to watch the first class. It feels weird to be here wearing jeans and a hoodie instead of my usual leotard and tights.

Mackenzie grabs the door and holds it open for me. “Oh my god, Cassandra! Is it broken?” Her eyes are wide and worried.

“No, just sprained.” I collapse onto a low wooden bench along the wall. “Thanks for your help. How'd the rest of the auditions go?”

“Um, okay, I think. We'll probably find out today.” She sits down beside me. “I was dreaming about
The Nutcracker
all night. Crazy dreams. The Sugar Plum Fairy turned into a cat and started chasing all the mice.”

I laugh. “Cam dreamed the Sugar Plum Fairy was riding a broomstick and chasing Clara.” I turn sideways to put my leg up on the bench. My ankle is still swollen, and I'm supposed to keep it elevated as much as I can.

“When can you dance again?” Mackenzie asks me.

I make a face. “Not soon enough. There's only two weeks left of Summer Intensive—and the doctor said it'll be at least that long before I can walk properly, let alone dance.”

She groans. “Seriously? That's awful.”

The door opens, and Danika, Anya and Zoe come in, followed by Cam and Iako and, minutes later, Julie and Melissa. Everyone except Edie. I wonder how she's doing, down in the office. I'm surprised how sorry I feel for her.

“Did you see what happened?” I ask Mackenzie in a low voice. “When I fell?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Danika and Edie had already gone,” I say. “I was about to go next and then—well, it felt like someone pushed me, but it could have been an accident.”

She bites her lower lip. “I bet I know what you're thinking. Melissa, right?” She turns to watch Melissa, who is stretching on the floor.

I follow her gaze. “Probably,” I say.

“Her mom used to be the principal dancer for some big ballet company. Winnipeg, maybe?”

“Yeah, I know.” I tilt my head, curious. “Have you met her?”

“No.” Mackenzie sighs. “You think she has some influence on who gets the part of Clara? I bet she knows all the people on the panel.”

I shift my position. My ankle really hurts and I can't get comfortable. I'm half regretting not staying on the comfortable couch in Edie's living room. “They wouldn't pick Melissa if she was no good,” I say. “No matter who her mother is.”

“Yeah, but she is good.” Mackenzie looks discouraged.

“You're good too.” I punch her shoulder lightly. “And at least you can dance. How many Claras have you seen on crutches?”

She rolls her eyes. “Har har.”

The sound of clapping hands makes us both look up. Diana is standing in the doorway, her expression serious. “Girls, I'm caught up in a meeting at the moment, so you'll be joining another class this morning. Melissa, can you come with me, please?”

* * *

Everyone is buzzing with questions as we head down the hallway to the other studio. “Why did she want Melissa?” Danika asks. “And where's Edie?”

“I bet they both got the part of Clara,” Julie says enviously. “I bet that's what they're meeting about.” She holds the door for me, and I hop through.

“Yeah,” I say. “Maybe.” Or maybe Edie told on Melissa. I find a chair and watch my classmates join the older girls at the barre, but my mind isn't on the dancing.

Then Diana pops her head in the door. “Cassandra? Can you come with me, please?”

My cheeks heat up.
Am I in trouble? Maybe Edie and Melissa have made up some story about me…
My heart is jackhammering in my chest as I hobble down the hallway behind Diana. She gestures me to go into the office ahead of her.

Edie and Melissa are sitting on the couch. Edie is red-eyed and teary, Melissa pale and defiant. Neither of them meets my eyes.

Diana pulls up a chair for me, and I sit down awkwardly. “I want to start by apologizing to you,” Diana says. “You told me that you weren't responsible for the Facebook post, and I didn't believe you. And now Edie has told me that she made the post. I am sorry, Cassandra.”

“It's okay,” I say, embarrassed. “I mean, I guess it looked pretty bad.”

“Edie?” Diana prompts.

“I'm sorry,” Edie says.

“I know.” I look at Diana. “She already apologized to me. At home, I mean. But I'm glad you know. I hated having you think I would do that.”

Diana clears her throat. “There's one other thing we have to talk about. Edie thinks that Melissa pushed you at the audition. Cassandra, I want you to tell me the truth. Were you pushed? Is that why you fell?”

I hesitate. It is so tempting to say yes…but I don't know. Not for sure. “I didn't see,” I admit. “I think someone crashed into me, but I don't know who. And it might not have been on purpose.”

“See?” Melissa says. “Edie's just trying to put the blame on me so she doesn't look so bad.”

“That's enough, Melissa.” Diana looks weary. “You and Edie had better go on to your next class. Cassandra, please stay for a few minutes.”

Melissa marches out of the office without a backward glance, but Edie meets my eyes as she gets up, and something—a flash of sympathy or understanding—passes between us.

Diana closes the door behind them and sits back down. “I am so sorry about all of this, Cassandra.”

“It's not your fault.”

“No, but…I want you to know that we will be keeping a very close eye on things from now on.”

It's a bit late, if you ask me
.

I don't say it out loud, but Diana reads my thoughts. “I personally will be keeping a close eye on Melissa,” she says. “There's no proof that she pushed you, so I don't think we can do anything about that, but from what Edie has told me, Melissa has been something of a bully with not just you but all the new girls.”

I nod. “Yeah, you could say that.”

There is a long silence. Finally, Diana sighs. “Melissa has been with us since she was four years old. I don't think she's always had an easy time.” She looks at me. “Not that there's an excuse for bullying.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

Diana presses one polished fingertip against her lips. “I'm not sure how much I should say. Has Edie told you anything about Melissa's family?”

“Just that her mother was a famous dancer.”

“Yes. She had a very successful career. Melissa's father died about five years ago, so it's just the two of them. And”—she clears her throat—“it is very important to Melissa's mother that her daughter also have a successful career in ballet.”

“But that's what Melissa wants anyway,” I point out.

“Is it?”

“Of course. Everyone knows that.”

Diana gives me a look, and there's something sad about her smile. “I don't know that Melissa has ever had a chance to want anything else.” She sighs. “What about you, Cassandra? What do you want?”

“Right now I'd be happy just to be able to dance,” I say, gesturing at my crutches. “And, you know, walk.”

“What about PTP? If you were offered a spot, would you want to stay?”

“It's not likely now, is it? I won't even be able to dance until the end of the summer.”

Diana steeples her hands together and looks at me over her fingertips. “We invite girls into PTP based on our assessment of their potential, not their current ability. From what I've seen over the past two weeks, you have that potential.”

“You mean there's still a chance?” I feel like the sun has just come out after weeks of rain; an energy, a lightness, is rushing through me. I feel like dancing right here and now.

“Definitely. The way you have handled all of this…this unpleasantness with the other girls…shows your character. You've danced well. You haven't allowed yourself to be thrown off or distracted.” She meets my eyes and smiles, her head tilted to one side. “You've kept your focus, and you've showed the kind of positive attitude that a dancer needs. That can't have been easy, Cassandra.”

I swallow. “No. It hasn't been.”

“I suggest that you talk to your parents.” Diana stands up. “You should think about what you want. I suspect you're going to need to make a big decision soon.”

* * *

I have lunch with Cam and Mackenzie. They're dying to know what happened this morning, and I tell them, but I don't feel like talking about it much. I can't stop thinking about Diana's question to me.

“Would you stay if you got into PTP?” I ask.

“Duh, what do you think?” Cam looks at me like I'm crazy. “Of course I would.”

Mackenzie looks thoughtful. “I want to get in,” she says, “but I don't think I'd stay. I'd miss my family too much. I've got three brothers, and we're pretty close. Maybe in another year. When I'm fifteen, you know?”

It hadn't occurred to me that this isn't a yes-or-no decision—that not doing it now doesn't mean not doing it ever. If I'm not ready this fall, there's always next year. “Yeah,” I say, with a sense of relief. “That makes sense.”

“I bet you get in,” Cam says to me. “You deserve to. If it's what you want.”

I don't tell her that Diana pretty much told me I'd get in. I don't want to brag, and besides, it's not like Diana made any promises. Still, I know I need to make a decision soon.

Living in Canada, on the other side of the world from my family, going to high school here, spending every free minute dancing…

Is this what I want?

Seventeen

That afternoon, Diana makes an announcement. Melissa and Mackenzie have been chosen to play the part of Clara in
The Nutcracker
. Iako is to learn the part as well, in case one of them can't do it for some reason. It's not really a surprise, and I'm thrilled for Mackenzie and Iako.

For Melissa—not so much.

I look around, searching out their faces. Mackenzie has a grin almost as wide as her face and is bouncing up and down on her toes, hugging herself like she can hardly believe it. I wonder what she'll do—if this will make her decide to stay, or if she'll decide to turn it down.

I'm kind of glad I don't have to make that decision.

Then I spot Melissa. She's smiling too, but without any of Mackenzie's exuberance. Her smile looks more like relief than happiness. I wonder if this is what she wants—or if, like Diana suggested, this is more about her mother's ambition than her own.

* * *

As soon as we get home, I ask Edie if I can borrow her laptop to Skype my parents.

“Sure,” she says. She seems kind of pale and subdued.

“Are you okay?” I ask her.

“Yeah.” She hesitates. “Diana was pretty nice to me, considering.”

“She
is
nice.” I think for a moment. “I bet she thought it was brave of you, you know? To admit that you did the Facebook thing.”

“I guess.” She unplugs her computer from where it is recharging on the dining room table. “Here, you can take it to your room. If you want privacy, I mean. You don't have to.”

“It's okay,” I say. “I knew what you meant.” I reach out to take the computer from her, but she doesn't let go. “Edie?”