The Calling (7 page)

Paige nodded. “You were lucky. Promise you won't forget me.” She took Miki's hand and squeezed it.

“I won't. The minute there's an opening, I'll mention your name. I'll insist you come over and try out. You're every bit as good a dancer as I am.” Paige was even smaller than Miki. That would be an advantage with as much lifting as the troupe did, although the men in this troupe were incredibly strong. They lifted Miki as if she were a kitten.

Miki hurried away from the studio and down the street. Paige would keep her talking for an hour. They hadn't had much time together this last week, but Miki felt what she was doing was important enough to let Paige go a little. She hoped Paige would understand that, even if she didn't like it. She missed her visits with Paige's family, too, but she'd catch up later. Mrs. Anderson was probably glad to have one less mouth to feed, not to have to share her family with Miki all the time. It never occurred to Miki until now that she might have been hanging out at the Anderson's too much, making a pest of herself.

Clouds hung low and oppressive, heavy with water. The streets were already dark because of the charcoal gray sky. A woman, pushing a grocery cart filled with old clothes, bottles, and aluminum cans, grinned at Miki. She had three teeth missing, but she didn't look really old.

The woman blocked the entrance to the alley beside the theater. “This is my territory,” she said.

“Excuse me. I'm on my way to work here. I don't want anything from you.”

“Be careful, dearie. There's a strange bunch in that old building. Strange.” The old woman moved her cart a little and let Miki past.

Miki stopped. It only took a minute to be friendly, and she felt like hugging everyone right now. Not that she was going to hug this old lady who smelled dirty and sweaty, but she could talk to her. “Thanks for worrying about me. My name is Miki. I'm a dancer and those people you're seeing are all dancers, too. We're practicing for a show.”

The old woman stared at Miki as if she was surprised that anyone would talk to her, treat her like a human being. She smiled. “My name's Cora. Pleased to meet 'cha.”

“I'm not making any money yet, or I'd give you some. Do you live out here full time?”

Now the old woman looked suspicious again. “Did the welfare send you out here to talk to me?”

Miki laughed. “No. You don't have to worry. I was just curious.”

“Me too, me too, dearie. Stop again and tell me about those strange people in there.”

Miki smiled. If the woman had seen the troupe go in, their capes fluttering behind them, she could certainly decide they looked strange. Miki wanted a cape. Wearing a rain poncho wasn't all that romantic. A black cape with a red satin lining would really make her one of the troupe. She'd ask where she could get one. She had a little money saved. A costume shop might let her pay one on time. If she got some salary soon …

To her surprise it was Elah who waited for her at the alley doorway. Her heart skipped when she saw him huddled in the shadows. “Oh, you frightened me,” she said. “But thanks for waiting to let me in.”

“Get out of this troupe while you can, Miss O'Ryan,” Elah said in a deep voice. “You don't belong here.”

“What if I want to be here?” Miki made her voice stronger than her quivering insides would suggest she could. She had never been around a lot of men. Talking to anyone male made her nervous. Talking to someone who disapproved of her was doubly hard. She took a deep breath. “What if I want to belong?”

Elah stared at Miki with his hard blue eyes. There wasn't much light in the doorway, but his eyes seemed to glow in his shadowy, gray face. Miki sensed his hatred—disapproval—or maybe he only had a desire to keep the troupe the way it was. Not welcome somone new. Maybe he didn't hate her.

“Why don't you like me?” She gathered enough strength to attack. To ask.

He stared at her for what seemed like a full minute. “What if I don't dislike you? What if I have your best interests at heart?” His voice softened just a little, and there was a familiar ring to it that Miki couldn't identify.

“Then my best interests are served by my being part of a dance troupe. Getting my start on being professional. You can't make me go away. If Barron tells me to leave I will.” She guessed that Barron had the last say in who danced and who didn't. “Let him fire me and I'll go. But not you.”

Elah shrugged. Then he stepped back from the door and let her enter. “They would still let you walk away.”

“Of course they would. They could get another dancer. One more experienced. Let them.” She threw out the open challenge to Elah. She would never say that to Barron.

Slipping past the man, she hurried into the auditorium where the dancers stretched and prepared on the stage. She tossed her coat and boots into a seat, banged her umbrella onto the floor, ran lightly up the center stairs and onto the stage herself. No one spoke to her. She kept her eyes neutral and began to stretch, even though she had just come from class. She found she had too much nervous energy and needed to do something besides stand around and wait.

Finally Barron clapped his hands and called rehearsal. Because of what Elah had said to her, she worked twice as hard as usual. She listened twice as closely. She gave herself to the music and the routines. She felt doubly determined to succeed.

“You have a professional attitude, Miki,” Barron said at the first break. “I like that in a performer. Do you have any questions?”

His smile of approval made her brave. She gathered her courage. “Do you—do I get paid for being in the troupe?”

Everyone laughed, and she felt her face flame. She wished she hadn't said anything about money. She sounded like a beginner again, after she'd worked so hard to show she wasn't.

“I understand you are still living at home. Perhaps you, like us, can wait until after the first performance for some income. We are pouring our funds into the show.”

“I—I just wondered.” She sure wasn't going to say in front of everyone that she wanted a cape. “It's okay.”

“We're taking tomorrow off.” Davin took her arm as they left the circle of dancers and got ready for the next routine, a new one for Miki. Davin's touch blew her concentration. She looked up at him and he smiled his beautiful smile. How could a man be so good-looking? He was almost unreal. “I'll take you to dinner if that will help your budget.”

“I was just asking, really. I don't need to get paid right now.” She smiled at Davin, hoping he wouldn't tease her more.

“I do,” Romney said. Kyle echoed the need for a paycheck.

“I'd like to go with you, Davin.” Miki didn't want him to forget his invitation. “There's a wonderful street of shops and places to eat in Bellponte. There are art galleries, a celebrity used clothing shop where you can find some wonderful things, and—well, I like going there.”

“Then that's exactly where we'll go.” Davin took her hand.

“I want to go, too.” Romney pretended to pout since he hadn't been invited.

“Me too,” Kyle added.

“What are you guys planning?” Primavera walked up. “Something to do tomorrow night. Someplace to go?”

Davin nodded, looked at Miki, and shrugged. “We'll all go. We'll meet in the alley at the same time and leave from here. I'll borrow Barron's car. He won't want to go.”

Miki was a little disappointed not to be able to go out with Davin alone, but going with the whole troupe would be fun, too.

“Since we're all going, can I invite my best friend? She's jealous because I don't have time for her since I joined the troupe.”

Eveyone looked to Davin to make the decision. Miki thought it was strange that they couldn't include one more person without thinking it over, but she let the thought go when Davin said, “Sure, bring her along.”

Primavera took Miki's arm, filling her nostrils with gardenia perfume. “Have you told her what we're like?”

Miki grinned. “Yes. But you're hard to explain. It would be best for her to meet you herself.”

Primavera laughed. She realized they weren't the run-of-the-mill dance troupe. Maybe they were careful of including strangers because a lot of people disapproved of them or wrote them off as too weird. Miki might have done the same thing if she hadn't seen them dance, and then danced with them.

Now she felt a part of them. She
was
a part of this small family. She loved being a part of something. Fitting in. Being accepted. She took that warm feeling into learning the next routine.

Ten

“T
HE MAKEUP IS
here!” Romney came running onto the stage with a box in his hands. “Let's try it out.”

“Okay, you can have a long break.” Barron must have known better than to try to keep rehearsing with Romney and Kyle already opening a medium-sized box set between them.

“Base, several shades.” Romney called out what he was taking from the box and setting onto the floor. Kyle grabbed it, then passed it on to Primavera and Rima, now sitting on the stage with them. They looked like a bunch of kids at a birthday party, watching Romney open his presents.

Miki realized that much of the troupe's behavior was child-like, but somehow it endeared them to her even more. They hadn't lost that fun and wonder that children have.

“Did we get liquid eyeliner?” Primavera asked. “This pencil I have is no good at all. It smudges after an hour.”

“Three shades,” said Kyle. “Black, dark blue, and purple.” He handed the tubes to Primavera.

“I want purple.” Rima took one tube and searched the box for a brush.

“Just wait.” Romney slapped her hand. “It was my turn to open the box.” Now Romney sounded like a little kid trained to take turns, but wanting to make sure everyone knew it was his turn today. Miki giggled behind both hands. Her eyes met those of Davin and he grinned, his eyes teased her, but also showed he agreed with what she was thinking.

So far Davin had continued to stand. He looked on from a distance. Then he came to her, took her arm, and moved them both closer.

“Want some makeup?” he asked Miki. “I'll do your face if you'll do mine.”

“I—I guess so. It'll be fun to try it out.”

“Did you order powder?” Davin asked, reaching down and searching through the supplies.

“Three boxes. That should be enough.” Romney handed Davin one box of face powder.

Davin indicated that Miki should sit on the stage floor opposite him. When she did, he took her face in one of his hands. “Let's see, probably number one ivory, when you aren't blushing.” He smiled and looked back over his shoulder for a bottle of liquid base.

Miki knew she was blushing. She'd never had anyone look at her so closely, and when Davin did so, she was thrilled by his touch. At the same time she was embarrassed by his close study of her. While he got what he needed, she tried to calm down.

“Okay, sit still.” Davin poured some liquid ivory onto his hand. “Instead of white, we go a couple of shades lighter than skin tone. Using white would look inferior and unprofessional.” He smeared the base over Miki's face, then used two fingers to make sure it was even. When he was finished he reached for the powder and a puff. “Now, close your eyes. I'll put white powder over this. You'll have a grayish ethereal glow.”

“Sounds beautiful.” Miki had trouble imagining what she would look like by Davin's description.

“You are. Just wait and see.”

“Hummm, with your reddish hair, black would be wrong. I'm going to try the dark blue eyeliner. You have to hold really still now.” He took her chin in his hand again, steadied her face, then put his hand at the back of her head. “Look up.” Carefully, slowly, he lined Miki's eyes with the deep blue color.

“What do you think?” he asked Kyle who had stopped to watch.

“Perfect. Matches her eyes, makes them stand out.” He winked at Miki. “Davin's the artist. What will you put on her cheek?” Kyle asked.

“Choose, Miki,” Davin looked at her very seriously. “Do you want a spider web, bat wings, or let's see, a small skull with tears of blood?”

“Goodness, I have to choose?” Miki tried not to laugh. Everyone was so serious about looking Gothic punk, but running around with a skull on her cheek seemed a bit much. “I guess a cobweb. Yes, definitely a web since we're doing
Arachnid.”

“Good.” Davin tipped her face up again and started to draw on her cheek with the same brush he had used for the eyeliner. The hairs tickled, but Miki kept very still.

“Oh, Davin, you have to do my cheeks,” Rima stopped and sat beside him. “Primavera can't draw worth a damn.”

Miki stared at Rima. She looked ghostly pale and her eyes were huge in her small face. Her mouth glowed with a pout of purple. Drops of red dripped over her chin and neck.

“Don't you love this color?” Primavera's lips were the same red. “It's called congealed-blood red. It's perfect.” She tipped her head back and laughed.

“Be sure to do your neck,” Kyle called to them. “Nothing worse than having the makeup stop at your chin.”

When Davin finished Miki, he painted Rima's cheeks. Everyone came to admire them. He had taken advantage of Rima's high cheekbones to do a grinning skull with blood dripping from the teeth. He
was
an artist, Miki saw. But so was Kyle. He had painted a spider on Primavera's cheek and another version of a cobweb on Romney's face.

“I'll put on the base, and you powder.” Davin poured a bit of liquid in his hand, smeared it on both palms and creamed his face. Miki bumped the puff lightly on his cheeks, chin, and forehead, then evened it out carefully. Her hand shook almost too much to line his eyes with the black, but she managed by gritting her teeth together and holding her breath.