The Dance (13 page)

Those images had mixed with the feelings of confusion she kept having. The spinning was her head, all the stuff that she was letting fill her brain. She should be thinking of nothing but the dance, the ballet recital, learning her part perfectly.

She stared at the bright red stone glowing on her chest. On impulse she took a firm hold on the medallion and lifted the chain from her neck. Immediately she felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach.

Rolling into a ball, she clutched her middle, trying not to cry out. The blow was followed by a draining of her energy as if every drop of blood had left her body, as if her bones had melted and left no substance but flesh to pool and lay helpless.

For a few minutes her mind duplicated this lassitude. She could think of nothing. She could neither move nor care if she ever left her bed.

I never wear my necklace except when I'm dancing
. Hank's words came to her.

Paulie changed when she put on that necklace. I'm sure of it. I've been a fool
. Her own thoughts spoke now.
I've obeyed Leona like a small child with no will of her own. There is something, something about the medallion. It seems so impossible, but haven't I just proved it. I feel strong when I wear it, able to do anything, anything Leona or
—
or
—

You are ours now
. Janell's words came back to her.
For the day
, Nicol had added. But their laughter. Their laughter …

Melanie forced herself to sit up. It seemed as if it was the hardest thing she had ever done. She stood on wobbly legs, not the strong legs of a dancer. Holding onto her bed, then her dresser, she staggered to the shower.

She stripped off her nightgown and tossed it on the bathroom floor, stepped onto the cold, marble-like floor of the shower, and leaned on the freezing tile walls—walls that might as well have been icebergs, closing her in on three sides, cloudy glass forming the fourth side of the rectangle.

With a cascade of water as hot as she could bear she bathed, wishing she could wash away the last few weeks.

Back in her room, she slumped on the bed and dialed Hank's phone number, sounding out each number, forcing her finger to punch the keyboard.

“Hank?” Thank God Hank answered. “This is Melanie. I need you, I need help, Hank.”

She didn't realize she slept again until Hank shook her awake. Katherine stood beside Hank. “Are you sick, Melanie? Why are you still in bed? And your hair is wet.”

“Let me talk to her, Mrs. Clark,” Hank asked. “I'll call you if I need you.”

Katherine Clark hesitated.

“Please.” Hank's voice was almost an order. “Melanie, sit up. What's wrong?
Are
you sick?”

“Oh, Hank.” Melanie grasped Hank's hand and curled tighter into a ball on the bed. “I'm afraid. I'm so afraid.”

“What of, Melanie? What are you afraid of?” Hank talked to her as if she was about six years old. Melanie heard it in her voice, but somehow it seemed like what she needed. She needed to be six years old and have someone else make her decisions. Tell her what to do.

“I had this dream. It was awful.” Melanie forced herself to sit up, to wrap the covers around her, push damp hair out of her eyes. She told Hank her dream.

“Then, Hank, I wondered if it was this necklace. I'd worn it all night. In fact, I've hardly had it off since Leona gave it to me. You were smart, Hank. You took yours off after class.”

“You think the medallion made you have that dream?”

“I think it's done something to me. When I took it off, I—I could hardly walk. I feel like a pool of melted Jello. I may never get out of this bed.” Melanie shoved the gray panther face off the bed and onto the floor by the wall. “That's stupid. The whole idea is so stupid.”

“I agree. But let's just deal with facts, Melanie. You took it off and you feel exhausted. It might be psychological. If you
think
that thing has some power, then it might for you.”

“What should I do? I don't feel as if I can move, much less dance. Ever, ever again.” Melanie bit her lip and stared at the sheet. She saw her fingers plucking at her blanket, picking off those little balls of lint that roll up when it's washed over and over.

“For now, put the thing back on. See what happens.” Hank walked around, got down on her knees, and pulled the medallion from under the bed. She held it out towards Melanie.

Melanie ducked her head, letting Hank place it back around her neck. Only a few seconds passed before she felt her energy returning. Surges, like ocean waves, washed over her, flew up and down her arms, her legs, her torso. The feeling, she guessed, since she'd never taken drugs, was like the rush an addict gets directly after a fix.

Was she hooked on this charm—this circle of ugly animals with its glowing red stone? Or was it all in her head?

She looked up to find Hank staring at her. How many minutes had passed?

All Hank said was, “We have to be at rehearsal in an hour. I have Mom's car. Have you had anything to eat this morning?”

“No.”

“Get dressed. I'll tell your Mom to fix you a sandwich.” Hank left the room.

Melanie had no trouble getting up, pulling on jeans and a sweatshirt, blowing her hair the rest of the way dry—it looked pretty wild, but who cared? She packed her dance bag and walked slowly downstairs.

Hank sat at the kitchen table, eating a tuna sandwich.

“Are you all right, Melanie?” Katherine set a plate down across from Hank with a thud, then rattled a cup and saucer, pouring hot tea. Without asking Melanie, she added two spoons of sugar.

“Fine, Mom. Dancer's nerves.”

“I sure understand that,” Mrs. Clark said, smiling at Hank. “I was always scared the closer I got to a recital or a performance. Eat every bite of this and try to forget it. The minute you step on the dance floor it'll drop away.”

Bryan wasn't going to let her forget him. The phone rang just before they were ready to leave. Mrs. Clark answered and handed it to Melanie, who took the phone into the hall. “Melanie, where were you last night? I thought we were going out, to a movie.”

“I never said that.” The way Bryan spoke to her made her bristle, jump to the opposite side immediately. “We didn't have any firm plans.”

He didn't want to argue. His voice softened. “Well, maybe not. I just assumed—”

“You should never assume I'm sitting here waiting for you to call.” She had forgotten all about Bryan this morning. Maybe that was why she felt angry and on the defensive.

“I know that. I—I missed you.” There was an awkward silence. “Can I pick you up after rehearsal today? I assume you have rehearsal.”

“Yes, at two. I don't know what time we'll be finished.”

“I'll wait for you.”

“I'm going with Hank. And maybe I won't have time to go out. Maybe I'll be too tired.”

“Are you planning to be too tired? Melanie, what's wrong? Did I say something that upset you?”

He gave her a chance to explain. She didn't have any explanation for the way she was acting now, any more than she had an explanation for what had happened earlier this morning. She just felt like being perverse with Bryan. And hadn't Nicol and Janell and Anne said she didn't need Bryan in her life? She should start seeing less of him. She realized she'd spent every spare minute since September with Bryan. He was taking her for granted.

“No, it's me, Bryan. I'm busy, and I don't have a lot of extra energy. I need to concentrate everything on the dance from now until Friday. I don't want to make a fool of myself in the performance.”

“You won't, Melanie. You told me yourself you were doing well. Listen, I'll be there. If you're too tired to go get something to eat, you can say so. I'll take you home.”

He was being too nice. What could she do?

“Okay, Bryan. See you.” Quickly, she hung up. Then she sat staring at the phone as if he might call right back. As if she should call him and apologize.

All of her nerves felt raw, chaffed. Her skin felt sensitive, paper thin. Both her mother and Hank stared at her when she returned the phone to the kitchen, but she didn't explain anything. “Let's go, Hank.”

“You didn't finish your lunch,” Katherine protested.

She had eaten half a tuna sandwich, drunk a glass of juice, and the sweetened tea. “I had enough.”

They left for the studio. “What did Bryan want?” Hank asked, maneuvering through Saturday's shoppers.

“To pick me up after rehearsal. I said maybe.” Melanie watched the familiar route go past. She fingered the medallion, as if she knew closing her hand around it would give her the strength to get through this day—this week. She did know that. But what could she do now?

The dancing calmed her. Madame Leona was patient, demanding, expecting more than Melanie thought she could give. But a smile from her was worth a week of aching muscles. She drew Melanie in, made her feel she could do anything.

“You are excelling beyond my dreams, Melanie,” Leona praised, both hands on Melanie's shoulders. “You will be perfect on Friday night.”

The compliment warmed Melanie through and through. For one fleeting moment she remembered why she had joined the troupe. And she smiled, knowing she had been wrong, foolish even. Leona Turva wasn't capable of killing anyone. She wanted only to present a perfect ensemble of seven young women, performing at the top of their ability. Paulie hadn't been able to fit into this group, so she left. What had followed had been a tragic accident, nothing more.

“Are you all right now, Melanie?” Hank asked during the second break when they started toward the dressing rooms.

“Sure.” Melanie pulled her towel around her neck, rubbing the moisture from her hairline. “What makes you think I'm not?”

“Have you forgotten what happened this morning?” Hank had a funny look on her face, but Melanie ignored it.

“No, but that wasn't necessary. I won't do it again. I just need to concentrate hard. I was afraid I wouldn't learn this, but I think I'm going to be okay.”

Hank squeezed Melanie's arm. “As soon as rehearsal is over let's go someplace with Seth and Bryan. Or we can get Chinese carry out and a video.”

Before she could answer, Janell and Anne found Melanie and each took one of her arms. “Mel, come on. Nicol wants to talk to you.” They tugged Melanie toward Leona's office. Melanie looked at Hank, shrugged, and allowed herself to be pulled in the opposite direction. Hank looked a little puzzled, maybe even hurt that Melanie would leave so abruptly. She felt her face heat up, but then turned and forgot about Hank.

Bryan and Seth were early, so they parked the car and waited in the lobby of the theater.

“Ever been to a show here?” Seth asked.

Bryan shook his head. “Nope, never have that kind of money.”

“Uncle Elias and Aunt Ruth used to bring me here occasionally. We saw a one-man show of Edgar Allan Poe. It was pretty neat.”

“Nevermore?” Bryan said in a low voice, trying to put himself in a better mood.

“Sure. He had a stuffed raven on the table beside him. For inspiration, I guess.”

“Poe or the actor?” Bryan laughed, but remembered the owl and the raven in the antique store. He hated stuffed birds. He had planned to take Seth inside the Arbuthnot to show him the portrait of “Nicol,” but it was closed.

“Are you Bryan?” a voice behind him asked.

Speak of the devil. The girl who stood beside him could have stepped out of the picture. Her eyes were the same eerie blue-gray, her hair that shade of black like a raven's wing. He found his voice.

“Yes. You're Nicol?”

“Have we met?” Nicol's eyes sparkled like ice, chilling Bryan, but at the same time fascinating him.

“Not actually. I saw you hanging on the wall in the antique store.” Bryan threw in that remark to see what response he got. Nicol smiled and said nothing. “Where's Melanie?” he asked.

“That's why I'm here. She asked me to tell you she can't go with you tonight. She's coming over to my apartment.”

“But why—”

“I don't know. Or if you're asking why I came to tell you instead of Melanie, I think she doesn't want to see you.” Nicol turned and bounced away.

Bryan felt as if she had slapped him.

“The day I'm getting along better with a female than you are, Dorsey, is a day for celebration. I'm buying tonight.”

If Seth was trying to make Bryan laugh, it wasn't possible.

“You didn't tell me you two had a fight.” Seth continued a one-sided conversation.

Finally Bryan spoke. “I didn't know we did. Melanie was acting funny when I talked to her. In fact, she seemed to be trying to pick a fight. But I didn't buy into it. I don't know what's going on.”

“Here comes Hank. Maybe she'll know.”

“Where's Mel?” Hank asked, telling them she was in the dark, too. “She was in the shower, then she disappeared. I figured she came on out here.”

“She sent Bryan a message,” Seth said. “Via an exceptionally beautiful woman, I might add. But I stayed loyal.”

Hank hugged Seth, then looked at Bryan with a question on her face.

“It was Nicol. She said Melanie didn't want to see me. That she was going home with her.”

Hank seemed to think about what Bryan said, but she said nothing.

Seth turned Hank around to face him. “Should we go rescue Melanie?”

“I don't think so. Mel is acting really strange today. Come on, I'll tell you what happened.” Hank hooked her arm through Bryan's. “Sorry, Bryan, I know you didn't want to hear that. But I don't think there's anything we can do tonight. Melanie has a mind of her own.”

“She's never acted like this before.” Bryan led them to the car. He sure wasn't going to go looking for Melanie. He felt foolish enough now. “I don't know of anything I said or did to upset her. But any time we've had even a minor disagreement, we've talked it out. That's one of the things I've liked about Mel. She's honest and doesn't play any boy-girl games.”