One Perfect Pirouette (8 page)

chapter 10

I stared at Ricky. What could he have done that was so bad? Burnt something down? I couldn't ask – it would sound really rude. ‘But –'

‘Chill.' He shrugged. ‘I just got in a fight, that's all. No big deal.'

‘Oh.' Voices were coming from inside the hall entrance, but after a few seconds I worked out it was a TV. ‘Well, you wait here, all right?'

‘Whatever.'

I wasn't sure he actually would, but I couldn't force him. I went in and found myself in a large room with couches, a TV and a small kitchen to one side. Five big teenage boys lounged on the couches, eyes glued to the TV, ignoring me.

‘Excuse me.'

No response. No one even turned his head.

‘Excuse me,' I shouted.

Five pairs of eyes settled on me. Silence, apart from the gunfire on TV.

‘Who's in charge of this place?'

Five heads turned back to the TV, but one hand pointed down a narrow corridor. I edged around the couches and headed for an open door in the distance. It was an office and inside was a man at an untidy desk, writing on a notepad. I knocked and he jumped.

‘What? Oh, hello.' He tried a smile. ‘Sorry, I thought you were one of the boys.'

‘No, I'm Brynna.'

‘Yes, well, what can I help you with?'

I explained and as he sighed his weedy moustache twitched. ‘No big rooms here, I'm afraid. Except that one out there full of couches. Sorry.'

My heart fell down to my stomach. ‘But – a small room might be good. Please? Can we at least look and see?'

‘Lots of things on here after school, you know. We have a lot of kids come in; can't give one kid a room of her own. Sorry.'

‘Every room is used all the time, every night?'

‘Er – not every night. Most nights. I've got a timetable, see?' He pointed at a huge chart on a whiteboard that had quite a few free spaces on it. I went closer.

‘What's the PP room?'

‘Ping-pong. There are two tables in it.' He mimed hitting a ball with a ping pong bat.

Two tables meant it was a good size. ‘It's only used on Tuesdays and Thursdays.'

‘Ping pong nights.'

‘It's free between four and five-thirty the other nights. Can I have it then?'

‘There are two
tables
in it.'

Maybe Ricky was banned because he whacked this man with a ping pong bat, like I wanted to. I took a deep breath. ‘If I promised to fold up the tables and put them back again, could I please use the room on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays?'

‘Well – I suppose that'd be all right.' He held up a marker. ‘Want to write yourself into the timetable?'

‘Yes, thank you.' I wrote ‘Brynna Davies' in neat capital letters, hoping no one would come along and wipe it off. Then I noticed that the man had accidentally given me a permanent marker and I held back a giggle. ‘I'll be here on Monday at four,' I said. ‘Thank you.'

Outside, Ricky was sitting on a park bench further along, holding his ball against his stomach, with his beanie pulled down low.

‘Guess what?' I tapped him on the shoulder and he jumped about ten centimetres.

‘Take it easy!' His face was pale. ‘I'm busy being incognito.'

‘What does that mean?'

‘Not being me.'

‘Why? Did you think that guy inside was going to come out and have a go at you?'

‘Him? Nah. It was them.'

I followed his stare to a police car on the other side of the park. ‘You're not doing anything.'

‘Don't need to be doing nothing,' he muttered. ‘Come on, let's go to the shops.' As we walked, he said, ‘So, did the man inside help you out?'

‘He wasn't keen at first. Said the place was really busy and he couldn't fit me in.'

‘Yeah, sure it is. Only kids that go there after school are the ones whose parents lock them out of the house till they get home from work.'

‘Why would they do that?'

‘Stops them wrecking the house and eating all the food.' He elbowed me. ‘You really are from another planet, hey?'

At the strip of shops nearby, Ricky bought a drink and we sat on a bench, sharing it and watching cars drive past and the occasional person buy something at the milk bar.

‘What year are you in at school?' I asked.

‘Year eight, when I go.'

‘You're tall,' I said. ‘And fast. That's what makes you good at basketball.'

‘Doesn't make me good at maths or reading, though.'

Suddenly the police car cruised to a stop in front of us. Ricky froze and I tensed as well; I had the feeling he was about to make a run for it. The policeman driving had his window open. He leant out on a beefy arm covered in thick sandy hair, looked me up and down and then zeroed in on Ricky.

‘Riccardo Costa. Nothing better to do?'

‘Just talking,' Ricky said defensively.

‘I see. Where have you been today?'

‘Around here. Park.'

‘Sure about that? You weren't in Kmart over by the cinemas?' The policeman's eyes slid across to me again. ‘Who's your little friend?'

‘No, I wasn't in Kmart and she's not doing anything wrong.'

My skin prickled and I sat up straighter. What was going on? ‘I –'

‘You don't need to talk to him,' Ricky cut in.

‘I'm keeping an eye on the neighbourhood,' the policeman said. ‘I like to know who's new. You need to keep better company, young lady.'

Before I could think of an answer that wouldn't get me into trouble, he drove off. As soon as the car was out of sight, Ricky jumped up and threw his bottle against the brick wall behind us. ‘I wasn't doing nothing!' he shouted. ‘Why can't he leave me alone?'

Then he saw me hunched down on the seat. My heart was pounding so hard I thought I was going to faint.

‘Hey, man, I'm sorry.' He grabbed his ball and started walking away from me, then he came back. ‘I am really sorry, all right?'

I stared up at the bright tears in his eyes and at his twisted mouth. What could I say? I'd seen that look on Tam's face, the utter frustration at the world and its unfairness, and I suddenly understood why Tam had to leave. But Ricky had nowhere else to go.

‘It's fine, truly.' I managed a wobbly smile. ‘You're like my brother.'

‘Yeah? Well, I'd better run. See you round, hey?'

‘Yep.' I watched him jog down the street and around the corner before I set off in the other direction for home. Mum and Dad would probably want to check out the youth hall on Monday before they'd let me practise there, but maybe it was better if they didn't meet Ricky.

chapter 11

Mum wasn't too keen on me using the youth hall, but Dad stuck up for me. ‘I'll go down with her and check it out,' he said. ‘It's the local youth place – can't be too bad.'

‘There's a man who's in charge,' I said. ‘You can talk to him.'

We arranged to go at four and Dad said he'd help with the tables, but he couldn't do it all the time. ‘I never know when I have to work overtime,' he said.

I thought maybe I could ask Ricky to help, if I could find him again.

At school the next morning, Lucy met me by the gate. ‘Mum said I can try out for the class,' she said, jigging about. Her long dark curls blew across her face and she brushed them away. Her cheeks were flushed. ‘She's bought me new shoes!'

‘Didn't you say last week that you weren't going to try out?'

‘Well, yeah, but –' She waved one hand, flicking my question aside. ‘I knew she'd say yes in the end.'

‘That's great.' I wasn't sure what to say. Mum and Dad hadn't told me I could, but they hadn't said no either.

‘Pity
you
can't try out, though,' said Lucy.

‘I'm hoping I –'

‘Hey, there's Jade. What's wrong with her?' She ran over to join Jade and I followed slowly. Jade's face was dark and scowling and I didn't want to know why.

Lucy's mouth gaped. ‘You're kidding! That's terrible!'

‘Stupid woman,' Jade said. ‘Why did she have to go skiing?'

Lucy turned to me. ‘Ms Wilson broke her leg yesterday. She can't coach the netball team anymore.' She swung back to Jade. ‘Omigod, what are you going to
do?'

‘We're probably going to lose,' Jade snarled. ‘What do you think?'

I wanted to say it was only netball, but I knew that'd cause World War III, so I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the words coming out of my mouth. Taylor came up behind us and we heard the bad news all over again.

‘We can do it without Ms Wilson,' Taylor said, but her voice was uncertain.

‘Hardly,' said Jade. ‘Not when we have to have Kelly in the team.' She threw me a venomous look.

I took a deep breath and said, ‘Maybe another teacher can coach you.'

‘Ha. As if' Jade flounced away, dragging Taylor with her, as if staying around me might be contagious. Lucy gazed after them miserably.

‘I know she wants me to play' she said, ‘but I just can't.' She paused. ‘Why won't you play for them?'

I thought fast. ‘Dancing's really important to me, too. Besides, I hate netball.'

‘Don't ever say that to Jade. She'd cut your tongue out.'

The bell began to ring and we walked towards our classroom. ‘I tried to practise that dance Ms Ellergren gave us,' Lucy said. ‘It's hard. I couldn't remember all the steps.' She glanced at me sideways. ‘Can you?'

‘Yes, I think so.' I'd actually written them down, to make sure I didn't forget a single one.

‘Could you – could you go over them with me? Please?'

The first thought that leapt into my head was that if I helped her, she might beat me into the class. Then shame burned through me, right up into my cheeks. I ducked my head. ‘Yeah, sure.'

‘Oh thanks, you're a star!' Lucy's smile made me feel better. Mum had said over and over that it wasn't about competing with others – you had to excel for yourself, be your own super best. Comparing or being rivals was pointless. Ballet was like anything you wanted to be good at – your biggest opponent was the chorus of little voices inside your own head. You had to answer them back!

Right then, I nearly opened my mouth and told Lucy about the youth hall, but something made me keep it shut. It wasn't that I wanted to be mean and not share, but I needed to work out on my own. I needed to focus and be able to make mistakes and then correct them without someone watching me and offering suggestions. To me, Ms Ellergren was the only one who could truly help.

I couldn't wait for the last bell to ring. All day, Lucy, Jade and Taylor kept talking about the netball team and the semi-final game until I wanted to strangle them. I didn't want to discuss it, so that put me on the outside again. Once, Jade even hooked her arms through Lucy's and Taylor's, pulled them away to talk and left me sitting alone, watching the boys kick the footy around. Josie would never have done that. I scrubbed away the one stupid tear that crept out and concentrated on picturing dance steps in my head as I rehearsed mentally.

Was I supposed to remind Lucy that she'd asked me to give her the sequence of steps? I watched her and Jade, arm in arm. No, she could ask again whenever she was ready.

I ran home after school, pushing Jade and the others out of my mind, changed into my leotard and tights and pulled trackies on over the top. Dad picked me up and we headed for the youth hall. The boys on the couches were gone, and a short, bald man was sweeping the hallway floor.

‘Can I help you?' he said.

‘My daughter has arranged to use one of your rooms for her dancing.'

‘Oh, that can't be right,' said the man. ‘No one told me.'

Sheesh! ‘The man who was here yesterday wrote me in on the timetable.'

The bald man frowned. ‘I'm in charge here and he should've asked me first. We have an open-door policy for everyone, but giving a room just to one person – well, that's not really fair.'

‘There's no one else here!' I said.

‘Brynna,' Dad warned. ‘The room is not used very much apparently, and –'

‘Which room?' the man snapped. ‘We're always busy.'

I could see yet another dance space disappearing before my eyes. ‘Please, can you listen for a moment? It's the ping pong room and the other man told me it's only booked Tuesdays and Thursdays. I promise I only need it for an hour or so and I'll keep it really tidy and put the tables back and everything. It's just –' My voice wobbled and I felt like a wuss, but I couldn't help it. ‘There's nowhere else and if I can't practise for this really important audition, then it'll all be for nothing.'

‘Now, look, it's not that bad,' Dad said, trying to calm me down.

‘It is! It's really, really important to me!' Another one of those stupid tears trickled down my face.

‘Oh, well – I suppose I might be able to make a small exception.' The bald man seemed edgy with me crying and there were beads of sweat on his shiny head. ‘I'll need to double-check the timetable first.'

‘That'd be great,' Dad said.

We waited while the man trundled down the hallway into the office and I could hear him umming and ahing, then he came back. ‘Yes, Arthur did book you in, although it doesn't look like his handwriting.'

I was about to admit it was mine, but decided it was better to keep quiet.

‘So it's okay then?' Dad said.

‘I suppose so. But I'll need to give you a list of rules and regulations and you'll have to ensure the two tables are returned to their correct position.'

‘Not a problem,' said Dad.

But when we got to the room and Dad saw the tables, he hesitated. ‘Brynna, you won't be able to manage these on your own,' he muttered.

‘I've got a friend who can help – don't worry, Dad. I'll work it out. Can you please help me for now? And come back at five-thirty? Please?'

He nodded and we folded the two tables and stacked them against the wall while the bald man watched, not offering to help us.

‘Right then,' said Dad.

‘You need anything else?' the man asked.

I scuffed the floor and felt grit under my sole. ‘Can I borrow your broom and sweep the floor, please?'

‘Certainly.' That made him smile. Maybe he was the only one who ever cleaned up around the place. Ten minutes later, the floor was clean and I was on my own. Fantastic! I had no music, but I'd work that out before Wednesday. For now, it was time to warm up, then take off my winter layers and practise in my leotard. And with my new shoes!

With a chair as a barre, I went through all the exercises, letting my feet and legs work on their own, while I focused on my arms. Were my shoulders dropping or hunching? I needed a mirror! Then I moved to the centre and fifteen minutes later I was ready to work on the dance steps Ms Ellergren gave us. It was the one thing I had going for me – a good memory for sequences of steps.

I danced the steps several times to make sure I remembered them in the right order, then slowed down and went through each position, trying to feel where my body was, especially whether my arms and shoulders were correct, and toes turned out. Then I danced the sequence again, this time imagining the piano music and putting more feeling into it.

Finally, I focused on pirouettes. I had a feeling that Ms Ellergren was going to want to see some this week and I needed to get them working better. As usual, I managed two okay, then with the third, I went slightly off-balance and teetered as I came back into fifth position.

I tried again. This time I nearly fell over. I had no excuse – I wasn't feeling dizzy or tired. What was the problem? What was I doing wrong?

I spread my arms out and stood, eyes closed, trying to stay calm, but my heart raced like a grasshopper in a panic. Pirouettes were difficult, sure, but they were part of every dance. I had a suspicion now that the tottering was connected with my arms not being right and that made me panic even more. Ms Ellergren was bound to ask me to do some and I was terrible at them. And what about the NBS audition? This could ruin everything.

How on earth was I going to get them right?