Passion and Pain (Dancers and Divas) (5 page)

“Yeah, I heard that in class,” he said with a grin.

Elena mouthed “Ha ha” as the others chuckled silently.

With the details sorted, Frankie linked her arm through Leon’s and dragged him off for a private introduction. “I’m Francesca Lorenzini. Everyone calls me Frankie.”

“Frankie’s found a new friend,” Sebastien said to Elena.

“He’s
kinda
cute. He seems nice and at least my little moment with Letitia didn’t put him off.”

“Some boys like the feisty type.”

“He is obviously Frankie’s type,” she said. “Besides, you know I’m not into boys like that. I’m way too young and I need to focus on my career.”

“O
f course
,” he murmured.

“What?”

“Nothing
.”

She whacked him in the chest. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Never.”

“
Hmmmm
.
Well, I’ve got dance class now, so I guess I’ll see you later.”

“Try not to piss anyone else off.”

“Very funny!”

Four

Elena leaned against the barre in the studio of their first contemporary dance class. She stood in her green and blue swirly
-
patterned tights, black shorts and loose grey T-shirt, using the wall
-
to
-
wall mirrors to observe the others around her practicing their technique. It was so cliché, she thought, with the ballerinas in their pink tights and black leotards and the contemporary dancers in short black tights and fitted tops.

She’d been in love with dancing since she was little girl, constantly begging her mom for dance classes. Only now Elena could understand how heartbreaking it must have been for her mother, a young single parent struggling to put food on the table, to have to turn her down. But classes or not, she
’d
learned. Her window faced a quiet street where she often watched older kids dancing. She would watch very carefully and then practice in her room
’
til she got it right. As she got older, she would sneak out of the house
after
her mom
had
left for work and beg them to teach her more moves, eventually creating her own steps and style. A performing arts school
had been, at the time,
an alternate universe. Yet, it was her mom who found the classes at
the
Youth Center and her mom
who later
found out about Montacrue and made her audition for a scholarship.

Now, here she was, one of the few female hip hop dancers in the school, about to compete with all of these trained dancers.  Who was she kidding?  “I can do this,” she said to herself as she stepped away from the barre and shook her limbs to relax. She scanned the room again and was relieved to notice Letitia’s absence.

“Good afternoon, boys and girls,” said Ms. Fontaine as she bounced into the room and headed straight to the stereo system. “Let’s see what you have. I saw most of you at your auditions, but that was a while ago,” she said, waving her hand in dismissal.

“Now I know this class is compulsory and not all of you want to be contemporary or jazz dancers, but the skills learned here are important for every dancer. If you do want an extra challenge, we create a performance group mid-year for the showcase. But we’ll get to that later.” She started the music and clapped her hands with great energy to begin the warm-up. “So let’s do this!”

“Now pirouettes!” she shouted, expecting everyone to fall into place. “Jazz turn right, step, double turn left, step triple turn right.”

Triple turn? Elena started to panic.

“Let’s go, group one.” Everyone could do the turn. Oh dear God, day one and she was already behind.

“Group two.”

Elena rose, determined to succeed. Jazz turn right, double left…she made it and then fell backwards out of the first turn on the triple. She was sure she was the only one. She raced back to the corner afterward, hiding behind as many people as possible. No one would believe she was on a dance scholarship. She felt critical eyes boring into her.

She got through the leaps okay, though was reminded to point her toes. She couldn’t turn, she couldn’t point. What was she doing in this class? She couldn’t seem to get anything quite right. To make matters worse, she couldn’t help but notice the small
blond
girl in the class
who
leaped as if she had wings.
Pink tights, definitely a ballerina.

Ms. Fontaine interrupted her thoughts to direct them to the floor. Elena tried to think positively. It should be OK as long as
she didn’t expect them to get up from their knees. But a minute later, there it was: “Roll around on your back and up on your knee into a turn.” Elena cringed
—
it was the one gaping weakness in her floor work.

When it was her group’s turn, Elena rolled over with as much energy as possible, hoping momentum would help her to her feet, but she got stuck, sinking back into her butt and having to use her hands to push
herself
up. This made her rush her turns, lose her balance and step out after one. 

Ms. Fontaine pointed to her abdominals. “You need to use your core to help get you up.” Elena nodded, dragging her feet to the side of the room where a couple of the girls were staring at her and giggling. Elena glared at them, face burning. Let them do some hip hop. Who’d be laughing then?

She was relieved when it was time for the choreography. “Lyrical today, people
-
good use of all technique and
expressive
at the same time,” Ms. Fontaine announced.

The routine was in fact elegant and Elena could feel the music with every inch of her body. Thankfully, the focus was on expression so the routine had simpler moves such as double turns and leaps that Elena felt she could do.
It had already been such a disastrous class so far,
and
she really wanted to make a better first impression. This was her chance.

Again, the class was split into groups. When it came to Elena’s turn, she closed her eyes, blocked out the sea of faces, took a long, deep breath and let the music take over. She knew her lines were not perfect and she only managed a single turn instead of a double
,
but she used everything she had to express the song. When the music slowed, she made her movements longer. When the singer cried with heartache, she made the movements sharper, matching the pain of the words. This was everything she loved about dancing.

“Beautiful!” Ms. Fontaine said. “What’s your name, dear?”

“Elena.”

“See everyone? That is how you perform a dance. Thank you, Elena.” Elena smiled at the girls who were laughing at her before. They simply sniggered in reply.

“Okay, class dismissed.”

As they were about to start their cool down stretches, Ms. Fontaine called Elena over. “You are a wonderful performer but I gather you haven’t had much technical training.”

Elena’s shoulders slumped. Her game was up. “I only managed some summer classes before coming here but I
’
ve worked really hard on it.”

“Your expression is wonderful
,
but without solid technique
I won’t be able to progress you. You really need that foundation
,
so you are going to have work extra hard to keep up.”

Elena hung her head. Ms Fontaine squeezed her shoulder.

“Few students have your heart and soul. You can learn technique
,
so don’t give up yet.”

“Yes Ms. Fontaine. Thank you,” Elena said. How was she ever going to catch up? Could she really be cut?

Waiting to speak to Ms. Fontaine was the
blond
ballerina.

“Anya, you have brilliant technique. I can’t wait to see you do partner work!” the teacher gushed.

“Thank you
,
Ms. Fontaine,” the girl said quietly.

“But you do know that you have to feel what you’re dancing as well
, right?
Make a connection with the music. I am still seeing all the work behind it and no feeling, so I want you to work on your musicality and performance.”

“I will. Thank you
,
Ms. Fontaine.”

Elena had nothing but admiration for this amazing dancer. She saw her walk towards the exit, her head bent down. Elena wanted to compliment her, but changed her mind. Why would a class act like that want to speak to her? Elena grabbed her bag and headed home. On the subway, she sank into the seat, wrapped the towel behind her neck and pulled it down, sighing. She had to find a way to get through this. She couldn’t hide behind average technique for long, not if she wanted to be a dancer.
She already practiced an extra hour every day. What
else could she do?

Five

The next morning, Elena met Sebastien as usual. They headed in the direction of the school, silent at first.

“What’s up with you today?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Are you still worried about those drama auditions?”

“A little.
I practically declared to the entire year that I was getting the part of Juliet. If that Letitia got it, I would be humiliated.”

“You’ll be fine. She’s probably just as nervous.”

Elena smirked.

“
All right
, maybe not.”

“Thank God she’s not a dancer!”

They reached the gate within ten minutes where Frankie was tapping her foot impatiently. “Elena, Elena!”

“He
l
lo Sebastien,”
she said with a flirty smile before focusing back on Elena. “You have to come to show choir with me! There’s a little too much dancing for my liking so I need you to help me!”

“You know I’m not much of a singer…”

“You’ll be fine. I don’t know any other dancers doing show choir so I need you to come with me. I’ve been waiting for you all morning!
”

“All five minutes?” Sebastien said. 

“Seb?”
Elena said. “What do you think? Show choir could be fun.”

“I would rather choke on my own vomit.”

“A ‘
n
o’ would have been fine. Besides I thought you wanted
new challenges?”

“No.
Y
ou
wanted me to have new challenges. I have enough. Besides, I’m trying out for the basketball team.”

“
Oooh
.
A jock.
That could be handy!” Frankie replied.

Sebastien rolled his eyes and walked ahead to class. “I’ll leave you girls to it. Enjoy show choir!” he said, giving them exaggerated jazz hands.

As they walked slowly to their first show choir class, Veronika rushed past them, her petite figure overwhelmed by the weight of her bag.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Elena called out to her.

Veronika turned around, waved and smiled mysteriously at them.

“Probably uncovering some story.”

”Do you think they
’
ll let me audition for a lead part in the choir?” Frankie asked.

“I’m sure they will. I bet you would be great!”

They reached the rehearsal room and quickly sat in the middle of the choir stands. The room was packed with students
,
all talking excitedly.

“Have you ever been in a show choir?” Elena asked.

“No one of interest yet,” said Frankie, scanning the room. 

“I was reading in the student pack that this is the first year the
y’re trying
a show choir here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.
They
’ve
had a chamber and gospel choir for years, but never a show choir.
Maybe
they started one now
because
of
Glee
?”

Frankie squirmed restlessly, waving at a couple of people.

The teacher walked in tentatively, her hands folded over long flared skirt. “Good afternoon
,
girls and boys,” she said in a nervous voice. The volume of chatter continued. Elena coughed loudly as the teacher started again. “Good afternoon,” she said, clapping her hands. Thankfully someone whistled and the conversations stopped.

“Mm, thank you.”
She smiled weakly. “I’m Ms. Lazowski, the musical director for the show choir. Could you take your seats please?” She swayed as she stood in the front of the room, continually fidgeting with her hands.