You're So Sweet (11 page)

“There'll be sun, sun, sun,” she sang under her breath, staring out the window. The bus stopped, and Alexandra timed getting out of her seat exactly with the lurch of the bus so she used the momentum to swing out the door. “Thanks,” she called behind her, beginning to walk to the academy.

As Alexandra stretched in the studio she sensed a body hovering over her. She rolled over onto her back, annoyed, and looked up. “What?” she snapped. She saw it was Julian. “What do you want, Jules?”she asked in a nicer voice.

“Oh, hey,” Julian said, sitting down beside her. “Um, I was wondering if maybe next time you dropped in on Leah's class I could come, too? I really want to work on my contemporary, you know? My ballet's getting a lot better, but …”

Grace came over and sat by them. “You know if you have ballet, contemporary's pretty easy,” she said. “At least the contemporary you would do in a ballet company.”

Alexandra nodded while disagreeing. “Not really,” she said. “I mean, yeah, you need ballet for technique, but there is lots you can only get from contemporary.”

Grace laughed, high up in her throat. “Well, you love contemporary, Lexi, so that's why you think so.”

Julian looked at her. “I like contemporary, too,” he said. “It's awesome. I don't just want to be doing the classics my whole life. I want to be able to do new stuff, too.”

“Do you know what I hate?” Grace asked leisurely, sliding into the splits and pulling her back foot up toward her head. “People who train super-hard for contemporary, like they are going to have a career dancing jazz or something. Okay, yeah, if you want to dance on a cruise ship for the rest of your life or something, but really —”

Julian sat up, frowning. “What, are you saying that training for contemporary is a waste of time?”

“No,” Grace said. “I'm saying that training solely for contemporary is a waste of time. It's just not practical.”

Julian and Alexandra looked at each other, bonded in disbelief. “So,” Alexandra said, “a ballet dancer and a jazz dancer walk into a bar, and the ballet dancer says: ‘you need to pick a more stable career path?'” Julian giggled appreciatively, and Grace looked annoyed.

Mrs. Castillo walked in, and they got up, heading for the
barre.
“I like your towel,” Alexandra said to Julian as they set their towels and water bottles down at the ends of the barre.

“Thanks,” said Julian, embarrassed. “My dad's girlfriend Daisy made it. Not the actual towel bit, but the dye.”

Alexandra picked it up and looked at it carefully. It had a tie-dyed blue background with a bright sun in the centre of two trees. “She's really good,” she commented.

“Yeah, I think so, too.” Julian nodded. “But you might want to put that down, I haven't washed it since last class.”

“Ew.” Alexandra quickly dropped it as Mrs. Castillo came over and began showing them the first exercise.

“Alexandra!” Mrs. Castillo snapped as Alexandra stretched out her ankle, trying to find a way to roll through without making it hurt. “Must be attention me. Why nobody ever attention to me? No respect. Mr. Moretti, you respect. Mr. And Mrs. Demidovski, you respect. Mrs. Castillo, no respect.”

“We respect you, Mrs. Castillo,” Tristan called out.

Mrs. Castillo's face lit up and she smiled, breaking into a choky smoker's laugh. “Good boy, good boy,” she said. She walked over to him and slapped his stomach. “Good lunch?” She looked in the mirror at herself. “Mrs. Castillo is too skinny,” she said mournfully, beginning to laugh again. “I too old, makes me too skinny.” Her students giggled. “Maybe next time I go to the bathroom, fall in the toilet because too skinny,” Mrs. Castillo continued, encouraged by their laughter. “Whoosh! No more Mrs. Castillo.” They giggled still, but a little nervously.

“Don't fall in the toilet, Mrs. Castillo,” Tristan said charmingly. “We would miss you.”

“Oh, you miss me yelling at you?” Mrs. Castillo asked, her eyebrows raised. “Good. Must be yell if want to be good dancer. Okay, begin.” She clapped her hands together, making a surprisingly loud noise, and George began playing. They began the
plies
, doing a very improvised version as no one had really gotten the exercise except Aiko, who always paid attention.

Alexandra waited for fifteen minutes after class before calling her mother. “Mom? Is someone coming to pick me up? Because Grace already left, so I can't get a ride with her now.”

Beth groaned. “Oh, sweetie — I thought your dad was going to pick you up, but I forgot he has a work meeting. Can you take the bus? I'm waiting for Emma to finish practice now.” Alexandra could hear the echoing shouts of Emma's gymnastics studio in the background, and sighed.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Lame. K, bye.” She hung up the phone and went outside to wait for the bus. Julian was already waiting there, with his homestay brother Leon.

“Hey guys,” she said. She set her heavy bag down on the bench and massaged her sore arm, yawning. Leon nodded. He was too cool to talk; he was in the Youth Company. Alexandra didn't have much respect for him, he still homestayed with Mr. Yu and was twenty-two years old. He hadn't even started to audition for anything yet — he had auditioned for Vancouver Ballet and not made it past the second cut. Alexandra had very high standards for other people and she didn't like it when they didn't live up to them. Which was why she occasionally listened to “Watching the Wheels Go By,” and comforted herself with the fact that John Lennon had obviously not listened to his own advice; after all, he had been a Beatle, and John Lennon. That sort of thing didn't happen to people who sat and watched wheels go by.

“'Sup?” Julian nodded. He was sitting on the back of the bus stop bench, carefully balancing with his feet on the seat.

Alexandra shrugged. She went over and sat on the bench next to him. “Ready for competition?” she asked to fill the silence.

“No,” Julian said. He rubbed his head. “Well, I don't think I'll ever feel ready. I'm excited for mine and Taylor's contemporary
pas de deux
, though.”

“Yeah?” Alexandra covered up another yawn. “Who'd you get to choreograph it for you?”

Julian looked nervous. “Uh, I did.”

Alexandra looked at him, surprised. “Nice,” she said. “That's pretty brave, doing your own work.” Leon blew some cigarette smoke toward them and she glared at him, annoyed.

“Yeah, that's why I didn't tell people,” Julian admitted. “It's way scarier than doing someone else's work.”

“What did the Demidovskis say?”

“I didn't tell them.” They both laughed.

“Awkward,” Alexandra said. “Can you picture that conversation? Who choreograph? You? No, no good, must be teacher!” Her voice pitched to mimic the voices of the academy owners.

“Exactly. That's why I didn't tell them.”

“How's working with Taylor?” Alexandra asked. “I can't imagine having to have privates with her, to be honest. No offence.”

Julian shrugged. “It's fine. She's pretty good. I mean, not as good as you, obviously, but who
is
as good as Alexandra Dunstan?” he said, half-joking.

Alexandra smiled. “No-one, ob-vi-ously,” she answered, playing along. A street lamp across from them suddenly switched on, and Alexandra blinked in surprise. “Where is the fricking bus?”

“I think I'm just going to walk to the station,” Julian decided.

“Me, too.” They started to walk, leaving Leon behind them, leaning moodily on the bus stop pole blowing smoke into the air.

“So, what are you doing this summer?” Julian asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“I haven't decided,” Alexandra said, shoving her hands in her pockets. “I need to get out of here, and into a different school, a different city.”

“What do your parents want you to do?”

Alexandra looked him, frowning. “What do you mean? It's my choice.”

“Yeah, but they're going to be paying for it, aren't they?”

“So? If I didn't study ballet, they'd still have to pay for, like, university or something, right?” Julian shrugged. Alexandra wondered what he was thinking. He suddenly looked very disapproving, and she didn't like it.

“So, how are you and Taylor's privates coming along?” Alexandra asked. “I noticed that you don't have many scheduled.”

“Uh,” said Julian. Alexandra waited impatiently, as he looked uncomfortable. “Um, we're also being coached by someone else.”

Alexandra snapped her head around to look at him. “What? Who?”

“Theresa Bachman.”

“What?”

“Yeah. It's pretty sweet, actually,” Julian started to babble. “She's really cool and nice, and a lot different from Mr. Yu and Mr. Moretti and stuff.”

Alexandra digested this. “But, she's not — I mean, she was a good dancer and stuff, but she's not exactly a
teacher
, is she?”

“What do you mean?” Julian looked confused. “She's good at teaching.”

“Well, if you like her …” Alexandra trailed off.

“I do,” Julian said, jutting his chin forward firmly. Alexandra rolled her eyes behind his back. Julian was so obvious when he decided he liked a teacher, or a dance, or a student — he would become fiercely obstinate about that person or thing, and argue why he was right until everyone else was completely sick of the subject. Alexandra had had the misfortune to sit next to Julian and Tristan the day Tristan had tried to argue that there was nothing better about organic produce. Alexandra had wanted to punch them both in the face by the time they had gotten to the academy.

“Well, I have nothing against her,” Alexandra reassured Julian quickly, and he relaxed. They reached the station, and separated, Alexandra catching the train north to Waterfront station and Julian taking the train south up to 49th Avenue.
I wonder if Julian is actually any good at choreographing?
Alexandra thought as she got on the train.
You just never know with him. But he can't be better than Leah …

Julian Reese

Time for my first competition ever? Yes, yes I think so :D

Julian picked up his toothbrush and frowned; the bristles were damp. Someone in his homestay kept using his toothbrush, and he was betting that it was Leon. He finished washing his face and walked into the kitchen. It was full — apparently everyone was late getting started this morning, not just him. Mao and Keiko were sitting at the table eating cereal, Mr. Yu was drinking black coffee standing up, still in his bathrobe, Leon was lying with his head in his arms on the table, and Mrs. Yu was cutting up something that was probably edible that Julian didn't recognize on her huge wooden cutting board.

Mrs. Yu started to sing a song in Mandarin, and Julian winced. He didn't mind Mrs. Yu's singing, it was pretty good, just not at seven in the morning. He poured himself a bowl of cereal, resigned to the fact that it was Cheerios after almost ten months of living with the Yus, and started to eat. Around him, everyone was also already up and eating, including Mr. Yu. Mr. Yu suddenly looked up, and Julian stopped eating, looking at him.

Mr. Yu grunted. “You taking the bus to theatre?”

Julian looked at him, surprised. “Um, no, Leon is driving me. His ankle is bad, he can't go to class today.”

“Okay, good,” Mr. Yu nodded to him. “Good luck. Make us look good, hey?”

“I'll try.”

Julian followed Leon out the door, trying not to slip on the wet steps. It was still fairly dark outside. Leon slid into the front, starting the car to try and warm it up. Julian shoved his suitcase in the back seat and got in the front beside him, shivering as the first blast of the heat hit his body. “You have to get a warmer jacket, man,” Leon said disapprovingly.

Julian shook his head, teeth chattering. “I like this one,” he insisted. He was wearing a thick blue hoodie underneath an old fake leather jacket of his dad's.

Leon changed the CD, and an old Bright Eyes song began playing.

“What are you doing this summer, Leon?” Julian said suddenly.

Leon shrugged. “Staying here, probably. Getting ready to audition.”

Julian nodded. He knew Leon had already tried to audition before, but hadn't gotten in anywhere, and that Leon was probably not going to get a job since he was already twenty-two. He liked Leon: he just didn't understand why Leon didn't realize this simple fact. Julian had promised himself that if he didn't have a job by at least eighteen or nineteen he was going to move on, do something else. Probably still in dance, like a choreographer or a teacher, but he never wanted to be old and still auditioning.

“What about you?”

“I don't know. Tristan and Taylor think I should audition for summer intensives in the States with them. But Mr. Yu said I should just stay at the academy and train.”

Leon shook his head and laughed.

“What?” Julian asked, starting to smile. He shifted his feet closer to the heat vent. His runners were always wet these days, he got home so late and left so early in the morning that they had no time to dry out.

“I just think it's funny, that's all,” Leon said. “The way you actually care what other people think you should do.”

“Why wouldn't I?” Julian asked.

Leon didn't answer, concentrating on turning on to the highway. Looking out the window, everything appeared blurry to Julian, the fog covering the grey highway and the rising sun partially obscured by the rain clouds.

Julian sat back in his seat, sulking. He felt patronized, and he didn't like it.

“I'm just teasing you,” Leon said. “Relax.”

“It's fine.” Julian shrugged.

“You excited?” Leon asked.

“Yeah. But I'm so nervous,” Julian admitted. “I know it's just a local competition, but I feel like if I don't win here I definitely won't win at YAGP.”

“Don't worry,” Leon said easily. “Today's your first competition, nobody expects you to do well.”

Julian didn't answer, restlessly tapping his foot. He suddenly wished he had practised more, or not choreographed his own solo, or found a cooler costume, or that he could stop feeling so nervous. “I don't even really want to do competitions,” he said suddenly. “I want to be more anti-competitions, you know? Like, I want to travel everywhere and dance in different places, choreograph — that's what I want.”

“Why are you doing so many competitions this year, then?”

Julian paused, thinking. “I … I just want to know how good I am, I guess,” he said. “And I don't really know what I want. If a ballet company offered me
a position, I probably would say yes, you know? It's just, I don't know if I would really fit in with a ballet company.”

Leon nodded, looking a little ill. Talking about auditioning was clearly an insensitive topic of conversation. Julian kept talking, though; he needed to talk to someone. “If I did get into a ballet company, and everything was good, what? Do I just stay there? I'm not like Alexandra or Tristan, I don't know if I could do that, slowly working my way up. But it would be nice to have a company taking care of everything for me.”

Leon turned up the volume on his stereo.

“Can I switch this?” Julian asked. “No offence, but it's kind of depressing.”

Leon shrugged, and Julian turned on the radio to The Peak
.
They began listening to “The Stand,” by Mother Mother, but before the song could finish Leon had pulled in front of the large suburban community centre where the competition was being held. “Good luck.”

“Thanks for driving me.” Julian grabbed his bag and scrambled out of the car.

“Don't forget your CD!” Leon called after him.

“Oh crap, sorry!” Julian turned back and grabbed it, slipping it into his hoodie pocket. He slammed the old car door shut and started walking toward the theatre as Leon drove away.

It was still cold outside, and the morning sun was just barely up, the dew making the pavement sparkle and the car oil in the puddles form pretty rainbows. Julian could feel excitement spread through him with every step. He hadn't actually been on stage since
The Nutcracker
, and being on stage was Julian's favourite part of dancing. Besides, at
The Nutcracker
he'd been feeling sick so that hadn't really been fun. He had a feeling that today was going to be awesome. There was a sign on the glass lobby doors that said V
ANCOUVER
F
ESTIVAL OF
D
ANCE
. Julian pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Inside the huge lobby was almost empty, except for a woman reading a book behind the counter of a concession stand. Julian walked up to her and stood in front of the counter, waiting.

She ignored him.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

She flipped a page.

“Excuse me?” he asked politely but louder. “I'm competing today, do you know —”

“Down that way, turn left,” the woman said pointing farther down the lobby without lookin' up. Julian nodded and walked quickly off in the direction she had indicated. There was a set of stairs, and he looked back at the woman, unsure if he was supposed to go down them. She was still absorbed in her book, and he shrugged, beginning to walk down the stairs. He checked his cellphone; he was early and still had time to get lost.

“JULIAN!” Julian almost fell over as Taylor jumped onto him, hugging him. “Come on, we're all set up
in here!”

“Isn't this the girls' change room?” Julian asked, stepping inside. Keiko was busy turning on every one of the bright lights that surrounded all the change-room mirrors. Excellent for illuminating a face to put makeup on it, these lights had remarkable heating qualities, and Julian could feel the room start to warm up already. Julian set down his bag beside Taylor and dropped to the floor, cracking both of his hips.

“I like your jeans, are they new?” Alexandra asked, looking at his reflection in her mirror as she applied foundation.

“Sort of. Leon gave them to me,” Julian explained. A mother walked out of the change room with her young daughter and gave Julian a disapproving look. Julian stuck his tongue out at her back as she walked out the door.

“That woman is fat,” Keiko said watching the mother leave.

“
Aishteru
, Keiko,” Taylor said, giggling.

“What does that mean?” Julian asked.

“I love you,” Taylor explained.

“
Aishteru
you too, Taylor,” said Keiko. She began to work with her Thera-Band, stretching out her feet. “Ah, it is so cold today!”

Julian shrugged. “I feel hot,” he said.

“You're always hot,” Taylor said shrugging.

“Ha ha, you called me hot,” Julian laughed.

“Soooo immature!”

A girl stepped in and looked around, seeing only academy students. “Oh,” she said. She stepped out again, and they all laughed.

“I love how we, like, take up an entire change room,” Anna said.

“Uh, yeah,” said Julian. He pulled off his jeans and slipped into his sweatpants, beginning to stretch. “Are you sure I'm allowed in here?”

“No.”

“All right then. If someone yells at me, it's your fault.”

Tristan ducked in the door. “Anna, your mother wants you. Julian, why are you here so late?”

“I'm here an hour early.”

“No comment. Karen wants to see you, now.”

“Who's Karen?”

“One of the people who runs this festival. She has to check off that you're here and stuff.”

“Okay, coming, can you, like, show me who she is?” Julian stood up and followed Tristan out of the change room, his feet cold on the cement floor. He followed Tristan down a hallway, past other change rooms with dancers of all ages warming up, through a small room with dancers that he recognized from Spring Seminar warming up.

“Hey,” he said in passing.

There was a chorus of “nice to see you again,” and “hey Jules,” and then they were going up a narrow set of stairs to the stage.

It was dark and quiet backstage, very different from the jumbled confusion and noise that Julian was used to from the academy's performances. There was an old woman with short grey hair wearing a mint-green pantsuit who was writing in the corner. Tristan ignored her and walked onto the stage where the lights were already shining brightly. There a woman dressed all in black sat drinking tea. She had large pearl earrings, short dyed-brown hair, and pink lipstick.

“Here he is, Karen,” Tristan said. He jumped off the stage and landed in front of the audience seats. “This is Julian Reese.”

“Oh, hello,” said Karen, looking up. “You're late.”

“Sorry,” said Julian. “I thought that my solo was at ten.”

“It is,” Karen said disapprovingly. “I'll just check you off on my list here — there we are.” She found his name on the paper in front of her and carefully made a mark on it with her pencil. “Don't disappear now, we need you backstage in half an hour.”

Julian nodded. “Okay. I'll just — go get changed.” He walked quickly back to the change rooms. “Do I have to wear makeup?” he asked suddenly, pausing as he did up his vest.

“Yes.” Taylor answered as she carefully painted on liquid eyeliner.

“But the stage is so small, and the audience is seated really close to me.”

“You
have
to wear makeup, Julian,” Taylor and Tristan said together.

Julian grabbed the makeup sponge and started trying to put some foundation on. It looked streaky over his naturally flushed cheeks.

“Here,” Tristan said sighing. He expertly flipped over Taylor's makeup bottle and put a bit on the sponge, grabbing Julian's shoulder to stop his head from moving as he rubbed it on his face. “You have to cover up your blush to put blush on. Your natural blush looks fake.”

“Uh, what?”

As he waited in the wings, Julian could feel his heart rate speed up. He wished he had time to go outside for a moment and get some air, but there wasn't enough time to duck out. He could feel his hands shaking slightly with nerves. He walked over to the pile of rosin on the floor backstage and ground a bit under his feet into his canvas shoes, and then prepared, beginning to
pirouette
.
One, two, three
— and then he landed. Good; he hadn't put too much rosin on, he could still turn easily. He adjusted his vest. It felt unnatural on his chest. It was so hot backstage. He could feel sweat already trickling down his back and chest and he hadn't even danced yet. In the corner, Tristan was listening to his variation on his iPod and marking it. Finally it was time to begin. There were only Julian, Tristan, Kageki, and two other boys from different schools competing that day. Kageki looked calm, repeatedly going over small sections of his solo. The lights dimmed in the audience, and Kageki walked over, first on the list of competitors.

“Kageki Sato?” the lady in the pantsuit whispered. “Start off?”

Kageki nodded and stepped close to the curtain, waiting for his music to start. He began with an astoundingly high jump, and Julian stared at him in surprise, moving closer to the wings as he watched. He hadn't noticed how much Kageki had been improving this year until now. He knew that Kageki worked hard, but it had never really occurred to him that Kageki was really good. Julian realized that he was. His jumps were higher than Tristan's, and although he was not flexible, he had gotten much stronger in the last couple of months. Julian watched in amazement as he pirouetted once, twice, three, four, five … and then landed perfectly. Kageki finished his solo with a grin, and bowed to loud applause from the sparse audience.

“Julian?” the pantsuit lady whispered, startling him as she suddenly appeared at his elbow. “You're second up.”

Julian nodded, waiting in the wings and trying to breathe as he waited for the adjudicator to stop writing notes about Kageki. He heard the tinkle of the small bell the adjudicators were given on their desk to signal that the next solo could begin, and Julian walked on stage. He waited for his music.