Dancer at Silver Spires (9 page)

“See that girl there,” said Emily, breaking into my thoughts and pointing with her fork.

All five of us tried to follow the direction of her fork, but it was Bryony who pointed out that there were at least fifty possible girls that Emily might have meant.

“Come on, Ems, give us a clue!” she said, laughing.

“That one there!” said Emily. “She's talking to the girl next to her right now.”

“Well that brings it down to about twenty possibles,” said Bryony.

“Blonde hair…laughing…not laughing any more…putting her fork in her mouth…” said Emily, giving us a running commentary.

“You mean Natalie!” said Antonia.

“I don't know her name!” said Emily.

“What about her, anyway?” said Bryony, sounding exasperated.

“She's dancing a flamenco dance all on her own at the show. You know, with castanets and everything! I heard her telling someone.”

I looked at Natalie and thought how brave and talented she must be. Or maybe she was simply full of confidence. I supposed that if you had bags of confidence, it wouldn't matter if you weren't absolutely brilliantly talented. But then as soon as I'd had that thought, I disagreed with myself. No, you had to have talent as well as confidence. If you were performing in front of an audience, you had to be the best. I remember Miss Amelia telling us that before every show I ever did. It was the thing that made me more nervous than anything. What if I wasn't the best? How could we
all
be the best?

As usual, I didn't like these memories, so it was a relief when Nicole turned to Emily.

“It's not like you to take such a big interest in someone dancing, Emily!”

Emily looked indignant. “I was only thinking how nice it'll be for Antonia to see someone doing an Italian dance.”

We all burst out laughing and poor Emily sat there looking confused and even more indignant. “What's wrong with that?”

“The flamenco is a Spanish dance!” Bryony spluttered. “Get it right, Ems!”

I'd love to be like Emily. She's got the kind of pale skin that goes with her red hair and that goes pink easily, but she never seems to worry about it. She just laughed at herself. “Well, Spain's a bit nearer to Italy than England is, isn't it, so I expect you'll still enjoy it, Antonia.”

And Antonia leaned over and awkwardly tried to give Emily a hug. “Yes, I weell love it!”

All through afternoon lessons, the six of us kept on remembering Emily's mistake and breaking out into giggles, which didn't go down very well with the teachers. And even when Sasha and I went to gym club we couldn't quite forget it.

It wasn't till gym club was over and we'd got changed and spent ages looking for Sasha's missing sock – which turned up in her skirt pocket for some unknown reason – that my lovely happy mood melted away. We were just going past the window in the main corridor when Sasha suddenly stopped and looked thoughtful. “Do you want to try out a few dance steps now there's no one here?” she asked in a gentle voice.

I didn't exactly freeze, but I felt a horrible fear. First Mrs. Truman had caught me dancing in the sports hall, then yesterday it was Kate. I couldn't risk it a third time. It would just be tempting fate.

“I can't. Mrs. Truman might come in,” I quickly said.

“No she won't. There's no senior gym club this week.”

“How do you know that? Are you sure?”

She nodded and smiled.

I looked through the window at the beautiful empty floor and remembered how much I'd loved dancing on that pretend stage the day before. Mrs. Truman had used some great music for our cool-down at the end of gym club and it might still be in the CD player. My legs were suddenly itching to dance.

“Okay,” I said quietly, feeling that any louder might break the spell.

Sasha's eyes did their own little dance. “Come on, then.”

A few moments later, I was moving to the music that we'd just used in gym club, only now it wasn't a cool-down exercise, it was ballet. I was trying out the steps I'd seen Abi and Olivia dancing the day before, then breaking into my own choreography that I'd worked out. They didn't quite match the music in the same way, but it still worked.

Sasha had turned the volume up high. She insisted that no one would be able to hear, since there was no one around anyway, and I was grateful to her because she'd made me relax for the first time in a long time, and it felt good to have Sasha closer to my secret private world. Not so lonely any more.

Then just when I was doing an
échappé sauté,
I felt that icy feeling and I knew without looking that Sasha wasn't the only one watching me. I could see that she was standing tensely and her eyes were big with alarm, so I stopped abruptly and my own eyes flew to the window. There was no one there and I wondered for a second if I was mistaken, but then I remembered the little window, the one I'd used myself only the day before. Of course, I couldn't see properly, so I immediately turned to Sasha and noticed how pink her cheeks were.

“Is there someone watching me? Why do you look so embarrassed?”

She bit her lip, and her eyes did the smallest of darts towards the door. A second later the door opened and in came Kate with Miss Morgan. I stared at them, not knowing what to say or do.

“Sorry, Iz,” said Sasha faintly, staring at the floor.

“You mean…you…knew they were watching?” I managed to stutter.

She didn't reply, because Miss Morgan was talking hurriedly. “Izzy, I don't think you did yourself justice the other day, you know. You're really very, very talented.”

Suddenly I felt completely trapped, with nowhere to go. Even Sasha had been a traitor. My throat seemed to be closing and I knew I was going to cry. And then I did. I couldn't help it.

Kate came rushing across to me and put her arm round my shoulder. “Hey! What's all this? You're great. I just had to tell Miss Morgan to come to
you
, as you wouldn't come to
her
.” She patted my arm, then let her hand drop, but she was trying to get me to look at her and I felt pathetic and babyish.

“Look, Izzy,” Miss Morgan cut in. “I know you get very nervous about dancing in front of people, but you shouldn't, you know. You should be proud of yourself, with all this talent. You really are…exceptional.”

Was I? Did she mean it?
The words were starting to feel as though I ought to be believing them, but how could I? If it was true that I was
exceptional
then I would have got into The Royal Ballet School, wouldn't I? The path that led to my dream coming true.

Miss Morgan was looking at me gravely. “I really would like it if you'd agree to help out the senior ballet club, Izzy, because it looks as though Abi's strain is something more than that, and I've just seen how much of their dance you seem to have absorbed. It's incredible. I know you're good enough to join the group and the girls will be delighted. Really.”

“Especially me!” said Kate. “Say you'll do it, Izzy. Please!”

I looked at Sasha. She was silent. No wonder. She must have still been feeling embarrassed. But that was nothing compared to what I was feeling, because something really awful had occurred to me. Maybe it wasn't just that Sasha knew I was being watched. Maybe it was worse than that, and she'd set me up deliberately. I just hoped and prayed that she hadn't. Best friends don't do that to each other.

But mixed in with all that hurt was my confusion. Miss Morgan and Kate were being so kind and complimentary, and Kate looked desperate for me to say yes. And suddenly I just didn't have the energy to fight any longer.

“Okay,” I managed, in scarcely more than a whisper.

“Yessss!” said Kate.

And Miss Morgan took both my hands in hers and said, “Well done, Izzy. Come to the theatre tomorrow after school and we'll try out some ideas.”

I went to bed that night feeling miserable because of what had happened when Sasha and I had left the sports hall. Almost as soon as we were out of the door, something had suddenly clicked in my mind about her sock turning up in her skirt pocket. It couldn't have got there on its own. No, it was definitely all part of a plan. Sasha needed to make sure we were last to leave the changing room. Why? Because she'd set me up. She'd given the game away when she'd said that Mrs. Truman wouldn't be coming back as there was no senior gym club. How did Sasha know that unless she'd spoken to a senior? And of course, I knew now exactly who that senior was. Kate.

It didn't matter that Kate thought I was good. It didn't even matter that Miss Morgan thought I was good. The Royal Ballet School didn't. All that mattered was that I'd never get my dream. And Sasha shouldn't have betrayed me. She shouldn't.

As I lay in bed, unable to sleep, I remembered how I'd rushed off down the corridor from the sports hall, calling sarcastically, “Thanks very much, Sasha. What a great friend you turned out to be!” and how Sasha had called after me in a voice that was nearly crying, “Yes, but, Izzy, I didn't…” Only I'd never turned back to find out what she was going to say. And then I'd deliberately sat on my own in supper, and as far away as possible from her during prep. And even though she'd tried to get me to listen to her twice more before bedtime, I'd told her I didn't feel like talking. So in the end, she'd had to give up. And that was when I realized how miserable I was. It was awful not being friends with Sasha, and it was also awful seeing the others watching us with big wondering eyes, as though they weren't sure whether to interfere or not.

I knew I'd been far too quick to get angry with Sasha, and lying in bed now, going through all that had happened, I knew really that she'd never want to hurt me. Whatever she'd planned with Kate, she probably thought it was for the best. So I made a resolution to say I was sorry first thing in the morning.

But when the morning came I couldn't do it, because something had changed overnight. Sasha must have given up on trying to apologize to me and wouldn't even look at me. It was awful. I never knew how much I relied on her friendship until I didn't have it.

So all through the morning I had a miserable time, latching on to Emily and Bryony because Sasha seemed to be going round with Nicole and Antonia. There was an awkward and embarrassing atmosphere whenever all six of us were together, because the other four were trying to pretend that everything was normal and yet it so
wasn't
.

By lunchtime I felt sick with nerves about going to the rehearsal that evening in a theatre I'd never even seen before and having to dance in front of a group of seniors including Olivia and Maria. Then after lunch, I went back to Forest Ash to drop off some books I didn't need for afternoon school and to collect a top that I thought would do for the ballet rehearsal, and also my tracky bums because I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to wear as it hadn't even been mentioned. And it was when I was just about to key in the code to open the main front door to the boarding house, that out came Maria and Olivia.

“Oh, it's you. What's this we've been hearing about you coming to the rehearsal?” Maria said, giving me a cold look.

There didn't seem to be an answer to that question, so I just mumbled something about Miss Morgan asking me.

“Or was it Kate?” asked Olivia. “That girl's got some kind of complex that she isn't good enough to dance in the show. But she is. Experience counts for a lot in the world of ballet.”

“Counts for everything,” agreed Maria.

Olivia was still holding the Forest Ash door open for me, because if she let it go, it would shut and I'd have to key in the code to open it again. But she suddenly asked abruptly, “Are you coming in, or what?”

“Oh yes…” I hurried inside and realized that that was the end of the conversation. But just from the little they had said, it was obvious that Maria and Olivia didn't want me at the rehearsal, and basically thought I was far too young and inexperienced.

Their words kept on coming back to me throughout the afternoon, and by the time lessons finished I was a nervous wreck, wishing and wishing that Sasha and I were friends so I could ask her to come with me to the theatre. It would all seem so much easier with Sasha beside me.

Usually by the end of French, which is the last lesson, I'm desperate to get out of the classroom and stretch my legs and move my whole body after an afternoon of mainly sitting. But today I didn't have any urge to go tearing out of the classroom at all.

I glanced in Sasha's direction. Her face seemed paler than usual and her eyes looked big and anxious. Madame Poulain, our French teacher, was asking Nicole, who's a technical wizard as well as being so clever at everything else, if she'd mind helping her with a PowerPoint presentation that she was putting together. Madame Poulain wasn't sure how to set up the program, and wondered if Nicole might be able to help. Sasha and Antonia asked if they could stay behind too and Madame Poulain seemed really pleased to have so many volunteers. But I was sad, because I'd made another decision to apologize to Sasha, no matter what, as soon as French finished, and now I couldn't.