vnNeSsa1 (9 page)

Chapter 12

“Are you nervous?” I sneak a look at Tink as we’re driving to our opening night in the show the day after the party. Her eyes are like saucers, nearly engulfing her elfin face. My hands are slippery on the wheel, betraying my own nerves.

“I’m going to pee my pants.” It’s her dead
serious tone that makes me burst out laughing. My laugh has a hysterical edge to it.

“Me, too.” I keep imagining myself falling or doing something ridiculous to make a fool of myself. “I’m surprised I wasn’t up all night worrying. But I slept like I was dead until
two this afternoon!” I’m talking twice as fast as usual and my brain registers a red light in barely enough time for me to slam on the brakes. Tink doesn’t seem to notice.

“I couldn’t sleep at all,” she says. “After Victor dropped me off
, I went straight to bed, but I just couldn’t go to sleep. I kept thinking about forgetting the steps or tripping, too.” We’re both quiet, worrying. Suddenly, Tink turns sideways on the seat.

“So what do you think about Victor?” she asks,
and then before I can answer, “I talked to Ian after you guys left the party.” Guilt suddenly feels like a yoke across my shoulders.

“Is Ian mad at me?”

“No. He said Victor kidnapped you. He’s mad at Victor.” I feel relieved and then guilty for feeling relieved because I had a choice in ditching Ian.

“I shouldn’t have done that to Ian. I wrote him a note. I’m going to give it to him before the show. So, I’m doubly nervous.” A car honks abrasively as I cut it off
, changing lanes.

“He likes you. He’ll forgive you. Oh, God, we’re here.” Tink’s eyes have gone even wider as my car screeches into the employee parking lot. Even though my stomach is roiling with fear over the upcoming performance, there’s something I want to say to Tink before we go into the building. My fingers feel stiff turning off the engine.

“Uh, Tink? I don’t know what’s going on between Victor and me. Until I know, can you not say anything to anyone?” My face is turned toward her because I want to watch her expression. She has a faraway look in her eyes.

“I bet you feel the same way about him as I do about Liam. Liam wasn’t at the party. I was really disappointed.” Her face clouds over for a moment
and then her eyes clear and she looks directly at me. “Of course I won’t say anything. It might affect your friendship with Jennifer. I understand.”

Speech fails me for a moment. I didn’t expect her to be so perceptive.

“Thank you,” I say finally, and mean it. “Now, let’s go see if we can pull this off.” She gives me a panicked look, but tries to force a smile. It reminds me of a kindergarten photo when you just clamp your teeth together when they tell you to smile. It makes me giggle. My giggling makes Tink giggle. Our nerves keep the laughter going. We’re silly but we can’t stop. We make our way into the building, clutching our stomachs.

Thank goodness we’re early and hardly anyone is around. We’ve been assigned different dressing rooms, so we separate with a quick hug, still giggling. My station in my room is at the end of a row of six girls. Very few personal items decorate my space. There’s a picture of Lily, Tink, Jennifer
, and me; a postcard of Las Vegas at night; a tray of cosmetics. A shrink would have fun analyzing this. Something about a lack of solid identity, would be my guess. I’ve just reached my station when it hits me that I’ve forgotten my note to Ian.
Damn
.

It takes me about seven minutes to run back to my car, fish around in the trunk for the note and the yellow rose, and then place it carefully on Ian’s spot in the boys’ dressing room. His station is so full of personal items there’s hardly any mirror space left. No identity issues there. A few more members of the cast have wandered into the dressing area. My fear has ratcheted up. It’s a little early to warm up, but maybe physical activity will help calm me down. There’s a ballet barre set up backstage for stretching out and I head up the stairs. Once there, I go through an entire demi class of my own, beginning with plies and ending with battement. As more of the cast arrives, other dancers filter over to the barre. Some follow along with my combinations. It surprises and pleases me.

Feeling better, I return to the dressing room ready to put on make-up. Jennifer has arrived and she gives me a thumbs-up sign. About two-thirds of the dancers are there as well and they say encouraging words to me and Jennifer. Josie, my dresser, is among them and she gives me a hug. She says she’ll be right there to get me into the right costume at the right time. I sit down, relieved, and stare at my reflection in the mirror.
OK, time for the disguise
. I proceed to put on the heavy base, extended lines around the eyes, false eyelashes, heavy blush, and red lipstick that provide my mask. My work is almost complete when there’s a knock on the wall outside the dressing room.

“Male entering!” And Ian walks in and makes his way down the line of girls who either swat or grab playfully at him. They obviously like him. He stops right behind me.

“Hello, gorgeous.” He’s all smiles. I turn around quickly in my chair to face him.

“Ian, I’m so s
—” But I can’t get the word out because he’s put his fingers on my lips.

“I’m not mad at you. Never. I just came by to say merde,” he says, wishing me good luck in dancer-speak. “A bunch of us want you new guys to come over to Tyler’s after. You coming?” His face searches mine hopefully. I hesitate because I keep waiting to hear from Victor. But I haven’t heard a word. Just my keys left on the entry table while I slept. In the growing silence
, Ian’s eyes look more like an underfed puppy’s than ever. How can I refuse?

“Sure. Sounds good.” Victor probably promises to see all the girls the next day anyway. “Oh, and Ian?”

“Mmhhmm?”

“You might want to wipe your fingers off. They have red lipstick all over them.” I can’t help but laugh at the look on his face. He grins back at me.

“I’ll never wash my hands again.”

“Get out of here,” I say, and he leaves
, laughing. The other girls look over at me after he leaves; some smile and outright ask me what’s going on. I just shrug and say that we’re friends. They make sounds as if they don’t believe me, but there are other things on my mind, like being in a huge production for the very first time. I’m scared to death and don’t have time to worry about what they think.

But I am worried. Not about what the other girls might be thinking, but about why Victor hasn’t called. Even with the butterflies
—no, more like bats—in my stomach about the show, my thoughts keep returning to his voice, his smile, his touch.

“Would you like to get into your first costume a little early?” my dresser Josie asks me gently. My expression in the mirror is morose. I give my head a little shake to clear it, turn around, and smile at her. “Your make-up looks great,” she continues, sweetly.

“I looked up how to do it on the Internet,” I lie. “You can find out how to do anything online.” Truth is, I had put on my make-up automatically. I just knew how to do it. Just like I knew how to do ballet. Just like I knew how to speak Spanish. When things come out of you automatically, it’s hard to become a new person.

“Well, you look lovely.” My “thank
-you” is interrupted by a commotion at the door to the dressing room. It’s hard to see down the line of girls, but it looks like there’s a delivery guy with a beautiful arrangement of flowers. He is craning his neck to see into the room. The line captain is grabbing the flowers and yelling for him to get out. Jennifer is flashing him. He’s tripping over something as he backs out because he can’t stop staring at Jennifer. Everybody’s laughing.

“Who’re they for?” “They’re for me!” “Hand them over!” “Stop grabbing!” “Let me read the card!” “They’re for Savannah!” Everyone turns to stare at me. Smiles, catcalls, whistles, and questions follow. The line captain walks the flowers to my station. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s a gorgeous arrangement, accented with orange
Oriental lilies. My hand trembles, fumbling the card out of its small envelope.

You can’t help but be beautiful tonight. I can’t stop thinking about you. Until later…

“Who’re they from?” several people ask at once.

“I’m not sure. The card’s not signed,” I answer truthfully. My heart is beating fast and my cheeks feel flushed.
Please let it be him
. I read the card over and over.

“Honey, it’s time to get dressed.” Josie has all the pieces of my costume laid out and ready to step into. Panic shoots through my stomach. It’s time. My eyes look wild in the mirror, the effect exaggerated by make-up. I shed my warm-ups and put
on my fishnets. Then I stretch on a unitard fashioned to look like a jaguar. Jazz shoes are next, and then a headdress that’s snug against my scalp. My hair is gelled and sprayed and pinned under the headdress. I touch up my lipstick and turn to face Josie.

“Is everything in place?” My voice cracks the way it does when I’m nervous.

“Honey, everything is perfect.” Josie is beaming at me.

I make my way to Jennifer, smiling shakily at all the “merdes” given to me. Jennifer catches both of my hands and looks into my eyes.

“We’re going to be great,” she whispers, dark eyes sparkling. She looks stunning. With her hair up, her eyes look even larger. She doesn’t even look nervous, just excited.

“I’m going to find Tink and Lily,” I say, giving her hands a squeeze before heading out the door. In the hall, the lights flash, indicating ten minutes until the performance starts. My heart speeds up.

The other girls’ dressing room is as hot as ours with the make-up lights blasting on tightly packed bodies. Tink is fully costumed, but sitting frozen at her station, staring straight ahead. Lily is crouched next to her, speaking urgently in her ear. She looks relieved to see me walking toward them. Lily shakes her head slightly, implying the situation with Tink is serious. Seeing Tink terrified makes me pull myself together.

“Come on, Tink.” I put my hands under her armpits and drag her out of the chair. When she’s upright
, I grasp her firmly by the shoulders. My nose is about three inches from her nose. “You are beautiful. You are a good dancer. If I can do this, you can do this.” She says nothing. “Well?”

She crosses her eyes at me. Maybe I
am
a little close.

I burst out laughing and step back. She starts laughing. Lily starts giggling.

“What’s so funny?” Jennifer joins us, grinning.

“Oh, just Tink,” I say, still laughing with relief. “Ready?” Grabbing Tink’s hand
, I head determinedly for the stage, taking deep breaths along the way. My own panic isn’t entirely under control, but letting it show now would send Tink over the edge.

We wait backstage, huddled together, our hands intertwined. Lily is just to the side of me
, holding my arm, and Jennifer is on the other side of Tink, holding hers. Backstage has come alive with last-minute preparations. The orchestra above is quietly warming up. Dancers are stretching their bodies in every available space not occupied by the huge waterfall set. Some of the dancers have already taken their places on the set by climbing the steps hidden behind it. My head swivels up to the singer’s cage high above us. It’s empty. She won’t be taking her place until the very end of the number.

In another cage on the stage, the white tiger paces restlessly. I have a sudden, intense compulsion to free it. We pace together for a minute and it soothes me.

Isn’t it time yet?
The stage crew intermingles with the dancers, making last-minute adjustments. Dressers lay out costumes backstage for the next number. The turnaround between the first and second numbers is too brief to go downstairs to the dressing rooms to change. My fingers grow colder by the second. A shiver runs through my body. Lily gives my arm a squeeze.

Ian comes bounding over, grinning, enthusiasm radiating from him like heat. “Aren’t you excited?”

“So excited I’m going to throw up,” Tink says, scowling at him. He answers her by picking her up and spinning her around in a circle. She lets out a scream and a laugh yelling to put her down. But he just holds her up in the air.

“Not until you say you can’t wait to get out there and dance for the nice audience.”

“OK, OK; I can’t wait,” she says, beating on his shoulders.

“That’s better.” He sets her down and is about to say something else, but is cut off by the stage manager calling for the cast to get into their places. The orchestra plays the first few chords of the opening piece and a strange noise comes out of my mouth. It’s part groan, part whimper and all fear. Ian is not the least bit sympathetic. He laughs right in my face, gives me a kiss on the cheek, and runs off to get into place, calling a soft “merde” over his shoulder. The four of us give each other quick hugs and do the same.

Backstage is completely quiet now. The air is charged with anticipation. Everyone is still. My muscles are tensed, ready to creep forward into the first cat-like steps that we’ve rehearsed so many times. But this isn’t rehearsal. This is performance. I quickly turn my head to Jennifer, two dancers down, who gives me a wink. I wink back, close my eyes and send good thoughts to Tink, who’s across the stage and behind me.