You're So Sweet

by Charis Marsh

  “Yeah, but you’re the one that’s friends with him,” said Alexandra. “I mean, is he even doing anything for his birthday? I wasn’t invited to anything.”

  “Well, Taylor’s having a surprise birthday party for him. And she was probably too scared to invite you, so …”

  “Taylor’s arranging it?”

  “Yeah. She’s going way overboard, too, you know what she’s like. She actually wrote me a list of stuff that Julian would probably like. In purple gel pen.”

  “That’s stupid. It’s not like she’s his only friend. I mean, it’s kind of insulting saying that she knows better than you do what Julian would like, you both probably spend around the same amount of time with him.”

  “Exactly. She’s totally going nutso over it.”

  “Are Grace and Anna invited?”

  “Uh, no? Neither Taylor or Julian are friends with Grace and Anna. So, will you come?”

  Alexandra deliberated for a second. “Sure. Why not.”

  Tristan smiled, his face lighting up. “Yay. This is going to be so much more fun now that you are coming. I was expecting it to be awful, dealing with Taylor by myself for that long.”

  “For what, a couple of hours?”

  “Uh … it’s a sleepover. At her house.”

  “Tristan, you didn’t say —”

  At that moment Mr. Demidovski walked in. “I apologize,” he said placing his fingers on his heart. “I apologize, I am late. Are you warmed up? The muscles are good, yes?”

  Alexandra and Tristan nodded. Gabriel followed Mr. Demidovski through the door, carrying his black old leather bag and setting it beside him. Mr. Demidovski slowly unravelled his woollen plaid scarf and took off his Burberry coat, hanging it beside him, and then sitting down, slowly, dramatically, with the air of a performer who knows exactly how much time he is taking with every movement.

  “So? What pas de deux have you picked? Come on, come on, don’t keep Mr. Demidovski waiting.”

  “We picked Sleeping Beauty,” Tristan said. “We’ve got the music …”

  “Sleeping Beauty — yes, yes, maybe a good fit. Let me see.” Gabriel went over and turned the CD player on as Tristan and Alexandra got ready. Alexandra could feel her heart pounding, her palms sweaty with nerves. Dancing for Mr. Demidovski was like going on stage in itself. The academy students made fun of the Demidovskis on a daily basis, but the truth is they respected them very much. How could Alexandra not be nervous dancing for Mr. Demidovski when all she had to do was look at the pictures of him downstairs when he was younger — or his movements now — to know how good he had been? It was better to be yelled at by Mr. Demidovski than ignored, and Alexandra was thrilled that he had finally scheduled a private with her, even if it was shared with Tristan.

  The music began to play, and Alexandra releved in fifth position, developed her right leg devant, and then took a port de bras backwards. This pas de deux suited them both very well, and Alexandra loved dancing it with Tristan. He was annoying, but they had very similar timing and style. Alexandra didn’t have to think so much about dancing with Tristan as she did if she was partnered with any of the other boys. If they messed up while dancing with each other it was a failure of technique, not communication.

  When they had finished, Mr. Demidovski sat in his chair silently for a moment, assembling the right words. “It is — if I am the judge,” he said slowly: “It is 10 percent. The work, the technical is 10 percent.”

  Alexandra’s face fell, and she could feel Tristan’s do the same beside her. She nodded, quickly.

  “The artistic. The emotion. It is better — maybe 70 percent.”

  Alexandra smiled. It had felt good when she had been dancing it.

  “Must be better.” Mr. Demidovski slowly drew one of his black, sock-covered feet out of his black dress shoes. He pointed it in front of him, his long toes and foot bony and still arched. “See? My foot — my foot it is gorgeous. My arch it is beautiful. I am old. You should be many, many times better. Yes?”

  “Yes,” Alexandra and Tristan chorused.

  Mr. Demidovski slipped his foot back into his shoe and rolled up his sleeves. He nodded to Gabriel that he could go back to the office. “We have much work to do,” Mr. Demidovski said happily. “Now, first, Christian, show me your jeté. It is not charming.” Tristan ran back to the corner to show him.

  As Tristan and Alexandra left the academy they were both quiet from exhaustion. “That was a good private,” Alexandra said, yawning.

  “Yeah, Mr. Demidovski is awesome,” Tristan agreed. They both looked across the street where someone seemed to be honking at them.

  Alexandra shaded her eyes, trying to look at the car, and then her cell began to ring. She answered. “Is that idiot honking across from us you, Justin?” She sighed and put the phone back in her pocket. “You could probably get a ride with us,” she offered.

  “Yay.”

  “Stop saying yay, you sound like Taylor.” They ran across the street, Alexandra getting in the front seat of the car next to her older brother. “Hey, Justin,” she said, grinning. “Did you have fun in Whistler?”

  “Hey, Justin,” said Tristan, sticking his head between the two front seats. “How you doing, man?”

  Justin shook his head and pulled out, nearly missing hitting a street performer. “Everyone sit in their own seats so I can breathe,” he ordered.

  Tristan sat back.

  “I’m good, Tristan. It was fun, Lexi, except — I’ll tell you about it later.” Justin reached out and turned up the radio. Bruno Mars was singing about heartbreak. Justin suddenly turned the music down again. “Jesus. Okay, you know how I was dating Brooke?”

  Alexandra nodded eagerly. “Yeah. Brooke. Dyed hair.”

  “She doesn’t dye her hair!”

  “Uh, yeah, she does,” Alexandra and Tristan said together.

  “Whatever. Doesn’t even matter anymore because she dump — we broke up.”

  “Aw, Justin,” said Alexandra, looking sympathetic. Her phone beeped with a text from Tristan, and she opened it.

  “Your brother’s hair looks really good.”

  Alexandra giggled.

  “Are you guys laughing at me?” Justin asked, annoyed. “Geez, I know you don’t give a shit about my life, Lexi, but you could at least pretend. I feel like crap.” They giggled. Justin gave up and turned up the music. He drove Tristan home, threatening to drop them both off in Surrey every time they got too loud.

  Once Alexandra and Justin got home, Alexandra hopped out of the car, going to head up to her room. “Lexi,” Justin called after her.

  “Yeah?” Alexandra asked, coming back.

  “I went all the way downtown to pick you up even though I feel awful. Am I at least going to get a thank-you?”

  “Thank you?” Alexandra said, her tone more rude than thankful.

  “You know what? I don’t even know why I bother. If it doesn’t affect Alexandra Dunstan, it just isn’t important, is it?” Justin stalked angrily up to his room, leaving behind a slightly confused and angry Alexandra.

  Chapter Five

  Julian Reese

  Me — let’s go dt for 4/20 after class! Tristan — what’s 4/20? (facepalm).

  “Julian.”

  Julian turned around. Theresa waved at him to come closer to her. He walked back, against the tide of his fellow dancers who were all exiting the studio, and to the corner where she was standing.

  “Julian,” she said quietly, her face bright with excitement. “I have asked your teachers for permission to coach you. And Taylor. I think she is a good partner for you.”

  Julian looked at her, confused. “You asked who? Um —”

  “I asked the Demidovskis if I could coach you. And Taylor.” Theresa enunciated each syllable and spoke slowly. “If you want, of course,” she said suddenly. Julian realized that Theresa had not even considered the possibility that he — and Taylor — might not want to be coached by her.

  “Do you m
ean — coaching for like, competition?”

  “Yes,” said Theresa. “Exactly. I feel that you need a mentor, Julian. A dancer is a gift. Each talent must be nurtured by someone who takes an interest. Do you understand me?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Julian said. “Um … thanks.”

  “It is no trouble at all.” Theresa grabbed Julian by the shoulders and peered up at him earnestly. “Julian, you are very special. My impression of you is that you do not realize how special you are. You have talent, Julian, and I want to make sure you use that talent.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I don’t like that I had to retire. I don’t like teaching all these children. Most of them, they will never be dancers. It feels pointless, like there is no meaning to my life. But if I could coach you — and of course, Taylor — I think it would feel like I was making a difference. It would mean so much to me.” She let go of him, and Julian stepped backwards.

  He stared at her. “Thank you … I’ll tell Taylor.” He left for contemporary class.

  “Julian!” Tristan called excitedly. He and Kageki were sitting on the studio floor, stretching. “Guess who’s teaching today?”

  Julian shrugged, walking over. “We have a different teacher?”

  “Yeah, Kai called in sick! We have Leah today.”

  Julian’s face lit up. “Really? That is so sweet. She’s awesome.” Julian had only gotten to take Leah’s class once, and he still remembered it.

  “Are you still wanting to get her to choreograph your contemporary solo? Because you should totally ask her today. I’ll ask her for you if you want.”

  “Yeah, Julian, you should,” Kageki agreed. “She is so cool. Alexandra usually does stuff with her, and Alexandra is the best at contemporary.”

  “Um …” Julian didn’t know how to get out of this without telling them that he was choreographing his own stuff, and he really didn’t want to tell them that.

  Taylor walked up to them. “Are you talking about contemporary solos?!” she asked. “You should see what Julian’s —”

  “Taylor!” Julian said quickly. “I really wanted to talk to you about something. A secret?”

  “What secret?” Tristan asked, curious.

  “Nothing,” said Julian, shaking his head. The others looked at him, confused.

  “Oh!” Taylor exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hand. “Sorry, Julian, I get it.”

  “What?” Tristan asked annoyed. “Come on guys, this isn’t fair.”

  “It’s nothing, really,” Julian assured him.

  Tristan frowned, sulking, but he couldn’t press Julian any further because suddenly Leah appeared in the doorway. Alexandra leaped up from her spot on the floor and ran to her, giving her a hug. Leah was a tall woman, and big: not fat, just large-boned and muscular. Her forehead had the sort of stretched-out look people get when they have been putting their hair in ponytails for too long, and her hair was dyed brown, but still had streaks left over from previous dye jobs. She wore a stretched out black pair of Lululemon pants, and a black T-shirt that said: I DANCE BECAUSE I WANT TO EXPLODE across it. Her eyeshadow was bronze and hastily applied, and her eyeliner was usually smeared due to her habit of yelling at her students, making herself sweat, and then wiping her face. Julian couldn’t keep his grin off his face. She was just so cool.

  Leah walked over to the CD player and set her bags down. “Who do I know?” she asked, looking around. “Alexandra, glad you’re here. Tristan, are you going to be good today? Otherwise, get out.” Jessica sat up straighter, waiting for Leah to recognize her, but she walked right by her. “Grace, of course.” Leah nodded. “Anna? Where’s Anna? Oh there you are. Remind me to talk to you after class — we need to change the time of your private. Kageki, of course, nice to see you again, konnichiwa. And —” Leah paused in front of Julian, frowning. “I know you,” she protested, hitting her head with the palm of her hand. “Why?”

  “I took your class once?” Julian said. “At Harbour Dance Centre.”

  “Hmm. The academy, right?” Leah stared at him, curious. “New kid.”

  “Uh, yes,” Julian said, blushing. Everyone was staring at him.

  Leah nodded and said hi to a few other students from other schools. “All right, everyone, let’s get started. Spread out.”

  Julian leaped into the air and immediately fell to the ground, rolling out and up into a penche, his legs almost at 180 degrees. He was having so much fun in this contemporary class; it was nothing like how Sequoia taught them at the academy. Leah was letting them do a lot of improvization work, and the stuff that Leah had choreographed for them at the beginning of class was fun and left plenty of room for stylistic choices. To Julian, this class felt more natural than Sequoia’s work, an extension of the technique he was learning at ballet class in a freer form. He hadn’t once gotten yelled at for working in turn-out instead of parallel, and it felt great.

  Leah stopped them, clapping her hands together in a rhythmic beat. Julian copied her, and Leah continued until she had the entire class clapping. She motioned for them to spread out into a circle. “Alexandra,” she said, calling her to the centre of the circle. Alexandra nodded and took three steps into the circle before starting to improv dance to the tribal beats that were emanating from the corner. Leah had not approved of the idea that only ballet got live music, so she had brought in Cromwell Gilly, who was a drummer in his time away from designing. He worshipped the amount of money and freedom Leah gave him to design costumes for Movement Productions (and the amount of skin she let him show on her dancers) so he had no objection to occasionally drumming for free for her classes. Julian had never known that Cromwell drummed: he waved to him, trying to catch his eye.

  “Julian.”

  Julian looked at Leah in surprise.

  Leah motioned impatiently for him to enter the circle.

  Julian walked in to the circle. He pretty much never got partnered with Alexandra. Usually she was paired with Tristan, or one of the Youth Company members that Mr. Yu occasionally coerced into attending pas de deux class. Even Jonathon sometimes got paired with Alexandra, but not Julian.

  As he stepped forward, he suddenly felt nervous. It was one thing to improv and fool around with Taylor, another to do the same with Alexandra. She still made him a little nervous — she was so intense. He began to dance, remembering the corrections he had gotten from Kai that week: “Don’t be afraid to use levels, remember to use as much space as you can. People can see the space you use, not just the lines you make.” Julian stretched out his arms and gathered a huge ball of air, let it roll up his chest and knock him down, watched it dissipate, and then left it behind him.

  “Julian,” Leah called. “You have a partner. Use her!”

  Julian turned around and gave a start of surprise, feeling a thrill of accomplishment as several students around him giggled. He stretched out his arms and ran swiftly toward her, intending to lift her up. Instead she ducked under his arm, rolled, and stepped into an arabesque away from him. Julian hesitated, unsure what to do. This wasn’t how improv was supposed to work. You were supposed to follow your partner’s lead. Alexandra began to develope and ronds de jambe, arching into a back bend. Julian saw her grin. Well then. Fine. He wasn’t going to have Leah think he was bad at improv just because Alexandra wanted to show off. He began to dance close to her, weaving in and out, ducking his arms through hers, but completely ignoring her. He grand battemented his leg over her head without looking at her, making her wince. He saw her look at him, eyes black. She was angry now. Julian grinned.

  “Very good!” Leah called. The drum beat began to change, getting quicker and harder to ignore. Cromwell began to sing in a language Julian didn’t recognize as he drummed, and Julian and Alexandra moved faster, weaving in and out of each other now. Where improv was usually a game of keeping constant contact, they seemed to find themselves in a position of trying to dance as close as possible without touching.

  “Sorry,” Alexandra muttered,
breaking the dance for a moment as she brushed a piece of her hair back after accidentally cutting Julian with a fingernail.

  “No problem,” Julian whispered back, narrowly avoiding kicking her in the stomach.

  “You are allowed to touch each other,” Leah called. She sounded like she was laughing, but Julian didn’t turn around to check.

  Julian reached out and hooked his elbow with Alexandra’s, and they played with arm movement for a little while. Julian waited for an opening. He really wanted to impress Leah with one of the many lifts that Mr. Yu had been teaching him all year, but it didn’t seem like Alexandra was going to give him the opening he needed to do that. Alexandra’s arms floated upward as they danced, and Julian saw the free space at her waist. He reached out and lifted her, at an entirely awkward angle, and Alexandra seemed too surprised to do anything to help. She bent backwards and draped over his shoulder, and Julian kneeled on one leg so she could climb down, which she did. He grabbed her hand and they balanced their weight against each other, and then she ran back and he lifted her over his head. He grinned, proud of himself. At that moment, Alexandra shifted her back slightly, and Julian’s left arm collapsed. After a full day of dancing he was too tired to support her anymore. Alexandra fell, Julian slid beneath her, they both ended up in a pile of limbs staring at each other, confused, as the rest of the class laughed and/or ran over to make sure they were all right.

  “You dropped me,” Alexandra said accusingly. “Ow.”

  “Sorry,” Julian said sincerely. “Your back moved.”

  “Is anything broken?” Leah asked, giving them both a hand up. “No? Okay then. That was an entirely unnecessary show-off move back there, but the beginning was good. You guys look good together.” She moved off to the front to begin teaching them the next part to a dance they were all learning, and Alexandra followed her to the front line. Julian stayed in the back line where he could copy the choreography from everyone else (he was still rather slow at picking up choreography). That was fun, he thought. Alexandra was an awesome dancer, too bad she didn’t seem to like him. She never spoke to him, even when they were sitting in the same group. Besides, he reminded himself, she and Tristan like dancing with each other. But Leah said we look good dancing together ...