Freestyle

by Bea Paige

  I look up slowly, my throat tightening with anxiety, and find myself locking eyes with Zayn once more. Why, in my most vulnerable moment, do I seek him out?

  Because he was your rock once, that’s why.

  And yet, all I see when I look into his eyes is malice. It’s cold, vicious, and bordering on maniacal. I’m sure if he could cackle like some fucked-up psychopath in one of those Marvel movies he used to love watching and get away with it, I bet he fucking would.

  My heart sinks.

  No, it plummets.

  Sighing heavily I move towards my spot amongst the other dancers, wanting the fucking floor to swallow me up. Except, somebody starts clapping, stopping me dead in my tracks. I look over at Madame Tuillard who is watching me with interest.

  “Bravo,” she says, her hands coming together over and over again in time with the crazy pounding of my heart. “Don’t look so surprised, that was quite extraordinary.”

  “Extraordinary?” I chirrup, like some psycho parrot. My skin is flushed with heat, burning under her scrutiny. I realise the whole room is staring at me. Some of the dancers look at me with respect, but a hell of a lot more with barely veiled envy. It brims in their eyes.

  “Yes, extraordinary,” she says to me before turning her attention to the rest of the dancers. “Despite my specialism, and the assumptions that come with dancing ballet, I appreciate passion over perfection, grit over cowardice, innovation over stagnation. The rest of you who are yet to dance, take note. To be able to follow dance steps is one thing, to be a true dancer who cannot live without movement, quite another.”

  I’m too gobsmacked to speak let alone move, so I simply stand like a moron whilst Madame Tuillard looks me up and down. She's not being rude, simply curious, like she’s trying to work me out. I swallow hard, studying her as much as she studies me.

  “Please sit, Penelope,” Madame Tuillard says after a moment. She gives me a warm smile that she hasn't shared with any other dancer until now. Even after Zayn's impressive routine, she’d remained neutral.

  “It’s Pen,” I blurt out.

  For a fraction of a second I look over at Zayn and am reminded of the connection we once shared. A connection born from a love of dance, a crappy upbringing, and a loyalty to one another that, once upon a time, every single one of the Breakers would’ve died to protect. Apparently, that connection has well and truly been severed.

  “Well, Pen, please take a seat whilst the remaining dancers audition.”

  I nod tightly and do as she asks, sitting back down next to Clancy.

  “Oh. My. God. You were fucking amazing!” Clancy exclaims, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and drawing me into her side. I'm too spaced out to shake her off. I’m not used to such overt appreciation. Instead of thanking her, I kind of just grunt and wrap my arms back around my legs, watching Madam Tuillard as she takes a seat next to D-Neath and whispers something in his ear. He nods, his gaze flicking over to the corner of the room, to the spot where Zayn is sitting. Whipping my head around, my spine stiffens as a look passes between the two.

  Another hour later, the final dancer completes her audition and Madame Tuillard dismisses us all. “Thank you for coming today. If any of you are lucky enough to be offered a place, you will be called by Friday and expected to start on Monday when induction week starts. Unsuccessful candidates will receive a letter in the post.”

  With that she glides out of the room, D-Neath following her with a smirk. I watch him as he leaves and notice that, yet again, he meets Zayn’s gaze, a silent conversation happening between them. Goddamn it. They’re up to something, but it’s not as if I can ask. I’d rather cut out my tongue than have a conversation with Zayn right now.

  The room empties, but I take my time gathering my stuff hoping Zayn will leave and I don’t have to face him. It’s one thing to exchange glances, however heated they might be, quite another to actually have a conversation. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in his company.

  I should’ve fucking known he wouldn’t let me off that easy.

  “Sweet moves, Cherry. I like your style,” he says, completely blanking me as he congratulates Clancy. I stiffen at his closeness, gritting my jaw. Still, I refuse to look at him. Instead, I concentrate on Clancy whose cheeks are flaming under his compliment.

  “It’s Clancy… and thanks,” she mutters. She glances between me and Zayn, understanding that there’s a connection, sensing the animosity and wondering why neither of us are acknowledging it.

  “I know, but you sure do seem like a Cherry. Sweet, curvy and something I’d sure like a taste of. Me and my crew will be at Rocks Friday night. Come,” he says, making sure to smile around the innuendo when my head snaps around to look at him.

  Hell-to-the-fuck-no.

  Clancy splutters, her mouth popping open and closed like a damn fish out of water. He's fucking coming on to her. My gut churns.

  I shouldn’t care. I don’t fucking care.

  “Over my dead body,” I say through gritted teeth. I might not know Clancy all that well yet, but she seems like a good person and I refuse to let her be used by Zayn. He was always a ladies’ man, at least until I revealed my feelings towards him. Then it was different.

  Leaning in close, Zayn chuckles evilly. “That’s what I’m counting on, Pen.”

  With that, he twists on his feet and walks away.

  “What was that all about?” Clancy asks, her eyes widening. “Did he just ask me to Rocks on Friday night?”

  “Clancy, I don’t think that’s a…”

  She pulls a face. “Girl, I’m not a complete moron. I know he wasn’t asking because he wanted me there. He was doing that to make you jealous or some shit. Want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

  I shake my head. “That’s not a conversation I want to have today. If ever,” I add.

  “Fair enough. Look, I’m going to be straight with you. He’s fit and all that, but it’s always chicks before dicks for me. I’m guessing he’s off limits?”

  My silence is answer enough.

  “Well then, I won’t touch him with a bargepole. Okay?”

  I nod tightly. “Okay.”

  “But…”

  “But?”

  “That shouldn’t stop us from going to Rocks. I’ve always wanted to check it out. It’ll either be a night to celebrate, or commiserate, or both. What do you say?”

  “Sure. I finish my shift there at midnight anyway.”

  “Wait? What? You work at Rocks? Why didn’t you say so?”

  “I just did,” I shrug.

  Looks like Friday night’s going to be interesting.

  4

  Present Day

  Friday morning, I’m sitting in my bedroom when my phone vibrates. I snatch it up. It’s the academy. Fuck.

  FUCK.

  Drawing in a deep breath, I bite out an answer, my nerves getting the better of me. “Hello?”

  “Is this Pen Scott?” a familiar voice asks. My throat dries out at the posh accent of Madame Tuillard and the deep rumble of laughter that is D-Neath in the background.

  “Yes,” I squeak, my heart nearly busting out of my chest.

  “Congratulations, Pen. You start at the academy on Monday.”

  “Shit,” I blurt out, tears springing into my eyes. I blink them away.

  “Is that a thank you?” Madame Tuillard laughs, not in the least bit perturbed by my rude arse response to being offered a place at her school.

  “Fuck, yes. It’s a yes. I’m sorry. Thank you,” I ramble.

  She laughs again, and I realise that it isn’t me who’s causing her so much glee, but D-Neath. I swear I can hear kissing noises now. Her laughter is more of a giggle and completely inappropriate for our conversation. She coughs, clearing her throat.

  “You may or may not know that we have live-in accommodations at the academy. There are a finite number of rooms available, but for my most promising students…”

  “That’s okay. I only live an hour
away. I’ll just get the train,” I interrupt lamely, not sure what she’s getting at.

  “Pen, you are one of my most promising students,” she clarifies.

  I am? Fuck! “Thank you…” I stammer.

  “So, I’d like you to move in, that way you’ll get extra time to practice your techniques in the dance studios before and after your daily classes. You will also get extra training in whatever specialism you choose.”

  “You’re actually saying that you want me to stay at the academy, in my own flat?” I’m glad we’re not having this conversation face-to-face because she might be regretting her decision given I look like a complete fucking moron with my mouth wide open and tears brimming in my eyes. This is unreal.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m offering.”

  “Will there be others too?”

  “There will be other students staying. All of them have been handpicked by me. You can move in immediately.”

  A thread of worry rushes through my veins. As much as I want to jump at the offer, I can’t afford to pay for my own studio flat. “I would love to, but I can’t really afford it…” My voice trails off and I feel like a fucking loser. Working at the club barely covers the cost of living with Mum, let alone a place of my own.

  “There’s no charge for living in the annex, Pen. All you need to do is buy your own food. That’s it. Call it the perks of being a gifted dancer.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “No, I’m perfectly serious.” Though she does let out another giggle before her voice is muffled by her hand covering the receiver. “Apologies about that, I have a very demanding colleague who wants… my attention.”

  Yeah, I bet. D-Neath is well known for his womanising ways. Apparently he’s hung like a horse and had his knob tattooed whilst erect to prove what a badass he is. I’ve no issues with a tattooed dick either way, but I’d rather not have this conversation whilst they’re getting up to God knows what. Pushing all thoughts of D-Neath’s cock out of my head, I thank Madame Tuillard.

  “You won’t regret your decision. I’ll work harder than anyone. I’ll do whatever it takes. I won’t let you down,” I respond in a rush, trying to drown out the sound of D-Neath making grunting noises. Is he fucking her whilst she’s on the phone? Gross.

  “Good. See you Monday,” she replies, before the line goes dead.

  My hands are shaking so much that I drop my mobile phone onto my lap and stare at the wall opposite my bed. “I’m in,” I whisper, not quite believing it. “I did it!”

  “Did what?” my sister, Lena, asks as she enters the room with a cup of tea and a packet of Salt and Vinegar crisps dangling from her fingertips. I stare at her, unable to respond. She cocks her head to the side and squints her eyes at me. “You on something?”

  “No!” I laugh a little hysterically which only causes her to raise her brows at me and give me her signature ‘yeah, right’ look.

  “I swear it…”

  “Hmm,” she responds, haughty little minx.

  Sweet Jesus, at fourteen she’s twenty times worse than she was at ten in terms of attitude, and don’t get me started on her tidiness, or lack of it. Instead of dolls and toys littering the space, it’s make-up and clothes. She’s got a lot of stuff. Too much actually. It’s particularly suspicious especially since she’s still at school, doesn’t have a weekend job and no money to buy all this shit. Our mum barely gets paid enough in her job as a mobile hairdresser to cover the rent money, bills, and her addiction to wine, which is bordering on alcoholic, let alone my sister’s addiction to making herself look pretty. Either Lena has a sugar daddy, is running around with the Skins or is stealing it all. I’m hoping for the latter because the other two options don’t bear thinking about.

  “Then what’s up with you, Pen? You look pale as fuck.” She places her mug and crisps on the dresser beside her bed and sits down next to me. “Have you thrown up again?” she asks, putting the back of her hand against my forehead to feel for a temperature. She might be a pain in my arse most of the time, but underneath it all she’s a good kid.

  “No, I haven’t puked…” Well, at least not today anyway.

  Over the past two days nerves have got the better of me, add to top it all off, the shock at seeing Zayn again after such a long time meant my stomach has taken the brunt of it. To make matters worse, where Zayn is, so too are the rest of my Breakers. My Breakers? Fuck. They’re not mine anymore. Inside, my heart squeezes painfully and nausea rises up my throat despite the good news.

  “What is it then?” Lena persists.

  Turning to face her, I push down every other thought and concentrate on the one thing that I’ve been working towards all my life. I can’t control what the Breakers do any more than I can control the actions of other criminals who run this estate. Whatever happens, happens. I’m not part of their crew anymore. Gripping her hand, I squeeze tightly and force myself to smile.

  “I got into Stardom. I’m in, Lena. I’m in.”

  For a moment Lena just stares at me, then she squeals loudly and throws herself into my arms. The sound is loud enough to make my mum come running.

  “What the hell is going on?” she shouts, her gloved hands covered in peroxide mixture as she stands in the doorway. In the front room, Karen, our neighbour, and mum’s friend, is having her roots dyed.

  “Mum, Pen got a place at the academy. She got in!”

  I can’t help but smile at Lena’s enthusiasm, but my grin disappears the second my mum’s gaze lands on mine. Here we go.

  “Just perfect. Now who’s going to help me pay the bills, huh? Did you think of that before you went swanning off to audition after I strictly forbade it?”

  “Mum!” Lena snaps, but I reach for her arm, squeezing gently.

  “I’m an adult. You can’t stop me from doing anything.”

  “Need I remind you that you live under my roof, so you follow my rules. Call them back and tell them you’re not taking the spot.” She glares at me and I wonder, not for the first time, why she hates me so fucking much.

  “No.”

  “No?!” she spits, her face turning pink with anger. “Do as you’re damn well told or find yourself somewhere else to live.”

  I get up, my body vibrating with anger as a huge well of sadness opens up inside my chest. “I’m moving out. I’ve been given a studio flat to stay at in the academy,” I say tightly, flicking my gaze to Lena who bites her lip. I hate leaving her, but what else can I do?

  “You selfish little bitch!” Mum hisses, her nostrils flaring as she flicks her gaze down the hall. On the surface Mum’s a nice, regular, church going woman who’s brought her kids up without a husband but under the watchful eye of God. Yet, no one has any idea just how fucking evil she really is beneath the bullshit façade.

  “Me, selfish?” I splutter, unable to hide the hurt I feel. “David chose a life of crime. He barely checks in with you from one month to the next and you’re telling me I’m selfish when all I’ve done is hold this family together and work my arse off so that you can feed your forty a day cigarette habit and get pissed every other night at the local pub? David has only ever cared about himself. He’s incapable of giving a shit about anyone else given he’s a fucking maniac!”

  “Shut the hell up, Penelope,” she snarls through gritted teeth, peering nervously down the hall.

  Oh, yeah, I forgot that we can’t talk about the fact that David is high up in the drug trafficking set-up the Skins have got going and is a fucking psycho to boot. I’m glad he’s not living here anymore and has fucked off to Mexico. At least Lena’s safe from harm. That’s all that matters.

  “What’s wrong Mum? Afraid the neighbours will learn your son doesn’t work undercover for the goddamn Met Police like you keep telling them and is in fact the prick everyone thinks he is?”

  “I’m warning you, Penelope. Shut your mouth!” she hisses.

  “Mum, Pen’s right. David’s no good…” Lena says, attempting to back me up. Mum
rounds on her, her eyes narrowing.

  “David does his bit. He sends money home. At least he has a future.”

  “A future? Are you fucking kidding me? Do you actually live in cloud-fucking-cuckoo-land? The only future David has is an empty cell waiting for him at Her Majesty’s pleasure, because sooner or later he’s gonna be locked up, Mum, and I’ll be dancing all over Hackney when that day comes!”

  “Enough!” she snaps. “They won’t ever be able to catch him because he’s not stupid enough to come home. Now, grab your crap and get the hell out of my flat. Do not expect to come crawling back here when all your plans go to shit and whoever offered you a place realises their mistake.”

  “Mum, please…” Lena begs, her eyes welling.

  I look at my sister and shake my head. “It’s okay. This was always gonna happen.”

  Mum scoffs, then stabs me in the heart with her words. “I should’ve aborted you when I had the chance.”

  “Tell that to your God,” I bite back, pointing to the silver cross that hangs around her throat, identical to the one David wears. “I’m sure He’d have something to say about it! Then again He hasn’t helped me all those times you’ve beaten me over the years, so I don’t suppose he would’ve given a fuck if you’d aborted me like you wish you had.”

  “Get out of my house,” she repeats, before turning on her feet and leaving me bleeding out on the floor.

  Lena’s hand flies to her mouth, tears pricking her eyes, but I refuse to cry. Not this time. Not anymore. “I can’t believe she just said that.”

  “It’s not the first time,” I admit. Mum has always been so careful not to say those hateful words in front of Lena or any of her friends. Not today. She’s dug the knife in and twisted.

  “I hate her.”

  “You don’t. She loves you,” I heave a sigh, beyond jealous. For a long time I was envious of my sister because Mum doted on her so much. Even David tolerated Lena, never once laying a hand on her, mainly because Mum wouldn’t let him, and he had me to lay into whenever he felt the need. I can’t begrudge Lena Mum’s love. I wouldn’t wish this feeling of worthlessness on anyone, especially not my little sister. Aside from my friendship with the Breakers, she’s been the only bright thing in my life. At least I still have her.