Pirouette (11 page)

twenty-five

It's make my own or starve
, thought Hannah, as Harriet left for work without first preparing the kind of packed lunch that she was used to. Luckily, Hannah was up early and had plenty of time. What's more, Harriet had been to the market the day before and returned with a small but excellent choice of fruit and vegetables.

Hannah made herself a cheese and lettuce sandwich and packed it in a thermal bag along with some freshly cut carrot sticks, a nectarine, and a bunch of grapes. Then she let herself out of the silent house. Following Simone's directions, she turned left, crossed Edinburgh Gardens, and boarded the number 86 tram. Her heart was racing, and she barely registered the unfamiliar streetscape sliding by.

The VSD was a ten-minute walk from Flinders Street Station, and, compared to Carmel College, it was tiny. The school was comprised of three or four buildings, with covered walkways in between and a single courtyard. Hannah had arrived with twenty minutes to spare, in which she intended to familiarize herself with her new surroundings.

“Good morning, Simone!”

Hannah spun around. Two people were walking toward her. One was a pleasant-looking man with a neat moustache
—no doubt Mr. Collins, the school principal; the other was a redhaired girl about her own age who seemed excited but apprehensive, much like Hannah herself.

“How are you today?” the principal asked.

“Fine, thank you, Mr. Collins,” Hannah said.

“
I'm glad I caught you. This is Julie. She's new this year, and she's in your class. She couldn't make it to orientation day, so please show her around.” He turned to the new girl. “Simone's been with us since Year Seven. You couldn't be in better hands.” Mr. Collins glanced back to Hannah. “Be sure to give her the complete tour!”

Hannah's mouth dropped open as he spoke. She closed it again quickly.

“I'll see you both at assembly at nine o'clock,” he concluded.

When Hannah didn't move, Mr. Collins added, “Go on, then. What are you waiting for?”

Hannah smiled at Julie, and with as much confidence as she could muster, led her toward the nearest building. She wished she'd paid more attention to the detailed maps Simone had drawn.

Oh well. She'd just have to figure it out as she went along.

“And this is the, uh … ” Hannah pushed the door open a crack and peeped inside. There were large worktables in the center of this room, easels at the back, and paints and palettes on the shelves. “This is the art room.” She flung the door open, allowing Julie to see inside. Then she led her along the corridor and up a flight of stairs.

To her right, a window revealed a room full of books. In case she'd had any doubts, the sign
Library
dispelled them.

“This is the library,” Hannah declared, “and over there are the toilets.” She pointed toward the restroom icons across the hall.

After passing one classroom after another and going back downstairs, they emerged once more into the open air and crossed the courtyard.

Here were the dance studios, each one fitted out with built-in barres and floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the front and back walls.

“Here are the studios,” Hannah said.

Julie's face lit up as she peered through the windows. “They're fabulous, aren't they?”

The bell rang for the morning assembly. Sweeping Julie along in her wake, Hannah followed the other students.

They soon entered a building that turned out to be the theater, where assembly was held. The students sat in rows, laughing and chatting among themselves. Hannah could almost see herself dancing on the empty stage, could almost hear the applause. She could hardly wait for her first performance.

Then Mr. Collins marched onto the stage. He coughed softly into the microphone and the laughter and chatter died down into a respectful silence.

“Welcome back to the VSD,” Mr. Collins began, “and a special welcome to our new students. Would you please stand up when I call your name.”

Hannah cringed on behalf of the new students as they stood up, self-conscious and awkward, to polite applause.

When they were seated again, Mr. Collins continued. “I trust you are all refreshed, well-rested, and ready to work hard in the coming year. May I remind you that every year, hundreds of students audition for our school, and hundreds of students are turned away. You are the lucky few who have been selected. Don't take that opportunity for granted.”

Hannah gulped as she listened, aware that she was the only dancer who hadn't auditioned, the only one there under false pretences. She'd have to work twice as hard as everyone else to prove she belonged.

“All students are to check their dance schedules on the notice board,” Mr. Collins was saying. “As you know, there will be no dance classes today. This morning you will have introductory academic classes, and then school is over for the day. Dance classes will begin tomorrow.”

And suddenly, assembly was over, and Hannah found herself herded toward the exit. A minute later, she and Julie were out in the sunshine. Julie was soon lost inside a cluster of dancers, while Hannah's shoulders were squeezed, her back slapped, and her cheeks kissed by people she was supposed to know.

A short way away, a girl was waving. “Hey, Simone!”

Hannah waved back as she tried to figure out who this might be. Simone had said that she mostly hung out with her best friend Jess and a guy named Mitch. Jess, she knew, was half-Japanese, with straight black hair. Was this her, then? It could be, though in Simone's photos Jess had shoulder-length hair, and this girl's hair only reached just below her chin.

“Hi! Great to see you,” said Hannah. “How were the holidays?”

“Not bad,” said the girl, now close enough to give Hannah a hug. “Dragged a bit toward the end.” She paused, then added: “So, what do you think of my haircut?” Definitely Jess, then.

“I love it,” said Hannah, thinking that the photos she'd seen of Jess didn't do her justice. In real life, the petite and graceful girl had such delicate, exotic features.

Jess smiled. “How was Candance?”

“Great,” said Hannah.

Jess looked doubtful. “That's an amazingly positive reaction for someone who didn't want to go.”

Hannah winced inwardly. “I said that, didn't I?”

“Only every day for about three months. And in case you're suffering from some weird form of amnesia, you also said you didn't want to be a professional dancer.”

“Hmm! Well, I've changed my mind.”

“Why?” asked Jess, narrowing her lovely, almond-shaped eyes. “What happened at Candance?”

Hannah shrugged. “It's hard to explain.”

“We'll talk about it later,” said Jess. “Better not be late for class on the very first day.”

twenty-six

As Simone put on Hannah's Carmel College uniform—a navy-and-white-checked knee-length dress, white ankle socks, and black leather school shoes—she felt like she was playing dress-up. She hadn't worn a uniform since primary school, though in some ways she preferred it—no time wasted wondering what to wear. And if she didn't feel entirely comfortable at Hannah's school, at least she'd look like she belonged.

She was winding a navy ribbon through her hair when Manfred knocked on the bedroom door. “Good morning, Hannah.”

“Morning, Dad,” she called in return.

A moment later, Vanessa shouted up the stairs that breakfast was ready, her voice not quite drowned out by the music coming from Adam's room. Adam was singing along at the top of his voice and out of tune.

Simone smiled. She didn't mind the noise. It was friendly and warm.

After breakfast with the family—apple and sultana muffins
hot from the oven—she and Adam packed the generous lunches Vanessa had made and headed off, Kimmy whining when they left him behind.

Adam gave her one of his earbuds and together they listened to his choice of music as they walked to the bus stop on Dandenong Road. When the bus arrived, Simone followed Adam to the back, and after a twenty-minute ride through morning traffic, they reached Hannah's large and somewhat daunting school.

As she got off the bus, Simone looked around. To her right were vast ovals, and beyond the ovals, in the distance, were tennis courts. To her left, great expanses of dark gray asphalt stretched out to meet a sloping lawn, and beyond that was a children's playground. In front of her, spreading wide in both directions, were several buildings—single, double, and multistory.

Hannah hadn't prepared her for the size of Carmel College, and Simone had no idea which way to go. She'd asked Hannah to draw her a map, but Hannah had kept putting it off until at last she'd turned to her sister and said, “Quit worrying, Sim, it's not that hard to find your way 'round.”

Now, for want of a better plan, Simone was about to follow Adam when someone rushed up to her, flinging sunburnt arms around her neck. “Hannah, it's so great to see you. I can't believe you didn't call.”

This must be Dani, Simone figured—with mouse-brown hair as short and spiky as she'd expected, though Dani looked a little plumper than she had in the photos.

“Uh … sorry,” said Simone, “but I only got back on Sunday night.”

“Hmm! You still could have called. Come on, let's go see what class we're in.” She linked her arm through Simone's and shepherded her toward one of the larger buildings.

Simone smiled to herself as she remembered something Hannah had said: “Dani likes to call the shots.”

“You mean she's bossy?”

Hannah had laughed. “She prefers the word ‘assertive.' But yeah, she has a tendency to take over, if you let her.”

In this unfamiliar environment, Simone was happy for Dani to take the lead, and while Dani chattered nonstop, Simone struggled to make sense of all the references to people
she hadn't heard of, let alone met.

It wasn't long before she found herself in a large hall with class lists and timetables pinned up on corkboards. She followed Dani until they reached the Year Ten ones.

“It figures,” said Dani as she stared at the class lists. “I'm in 10F, you're in 10D. Why do they even bother asking us who we want to be with when they ignore what we say?”

“We can still hang out at lunchtime,” Simone reassured her as she accompanied her up a flight of stairs and along a corridor.

“Hey, where are you going?” Dani asked her. “You're in Room 210. It's that way, remember?” She pointed vaguely in the opposite direction. “Meet me in the cafeteria at lunchtime?”

“Okay. See you then.”

The morning passed quickly in a whirl of new faces and introductory classes. At the break, through a combination of trial, error, and plain good luck, Simone found her way to the office of Mr. Field, the level convener. The door was open, and he saw her even before she knocked.

“Come in,” he said. “How can I help you?”

As Simone explained that she wanted to switch from Hebrew to French, Mr. Field gave her an unnerving appraisal.

“Why the sudden change of heart?”

“It's not sudden,” said Simone. “I've been thinking about it for most of the summer.”

Mr. Field scratched his head. “You're better off with Hebrew,” he advised her. “The French class is already very full, but there are only … ” He rifled through a stack of papers on his desk and consulted a list. “Only fourteen students in Hebrew. You'll get a lot more attention, and Mr. Aaronson is an excellent teacher.”

Simone bit her lip and tried again. “I know he is, but … I'd rather do French. You see,” she improvised, “I'm planning a trip to France when I finish school.”

Mr. Field drummed his fingers on the desk while Simone held her breath. “What about your parents?” he said at last. “They signed off on Hebrew. Are they on board with this last-minute change?”

Simone hesitated only briefly. “Yes,” she said.

“So you've discussed it, have you?”

Simone nodded.

Once again, the convener drummed a rhythm on the desktop.

“Madame Brun won't like it,” he began.

“Pleeease!”
said Simone.

Mr. Field sighed. “All right then.” His tone was grudging. “I'll see if I can squeeze you in.”

Day One was over at last, and Simone congratulated herself on having survived it. As she got off the bus at Hannah's stop, Adam pushed past her and tore down the street.

“Hey, Adam! Wait!”

He shouted something about soccer training and kept on running, and Simone ambled along the footpath, in no particular rush to get home.

“Have some fruit cake, Hannah,” Vanessa called as she left to drop Adam off at soccer. “Dinner won't be for another two hours. Oh, and check your mail—I think there's something from Armadale Dance.”

The letter from Armadale Dance, with timetable attached, informed her that classes would be starting the following week. She'd be dancing on Tuesdays and Thursdays after school, as well as four hours on Saturdays—just enough to maintain her technique and stay in shape.

She helped herself to some of Vanessa's homemade fruit cake, then went upstairs to do her homework. Shortly after she came downstairs again, Manfred arrived home, having collected Adam from soccer on the way.

“Hannah, how was your first day back at school?” He pulled Simone close, dropping a kiss on her forehead.

“Uh … great,” she said. “How are things in publishing?”

“Excellent. We've got two terrific novels coming out next month. In fact,” he said, opening his briefcase with boyish excitement, “I have advanced copies of both for my favorite daughter.”

S
imone smiled shyly as she took them. “I can't wait to read them.” She surprised herself by reaching up to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, Dad.”

Manfred beamed. “I can't tell you how delighted I am that you're finally developing an interest in books.”

“She's growing up,” said Vanessa, in a voice that sounded both puzzled and pleased.

Simone blushed, hoping that no one had noticed the flicker of guilt that crossed her features.

“Hannah,” said Vanessa, interrupting her train of thought, “you've got a dentist appointment tomorrow at 5:00, so make sure you come straight home from school.”

“But—”

“Don't look so worried. It's just a checkup.”