by Grace Davies
“Am I still dreaming? Is Millie actually awake before us? Oh my god she’s dressed too, are you feeling okay?” Harley gasps. She’s been coming out of her shell recently and for that I’m really proud.
“Ha ha, have you forgot what today is?”
“Oh, our first dance lesson, no wonder you’re excited,” Lola sits on the edge of my bed.
“No wasting time, get ready girls,” I smirk at them.
“Wow she’s bossy in the morning.” I throw a pillow at Georgina and she sticks her tongue out at me.
Today is going to be a good day, I can feel it.
***
I don’t think I’ve ever devoured a meal so fast in my life. I rushed through breakfast so I could get to the changing rooms and be ready in plenty of time. I made it down with twenty minutes to spare, unlucky for me though Charity was already there getting ready too. You know how I said today would be a good day, yeah well this is when it goes downhill.
I ignore her best I can, hanging my blazer in the locker closest to the dance studio. I have a small conversation with Angelica as I unpack my bag and start to remove my shirt. In between switching outfits, I hear Charity whispering loudly about me to Lucy.
“Have you seen the cellulite on her? It’s disgusting. You think by having no money she’d be skinny like us but she’s anything but. How disgusting.”
I clench my fists at my side and just ignore her. I know she seemingly has a point but my mum could only get her hands on the cheapest food possible, all of which was either junk food or processed food. She tried to make it as healthy as possible as she’s a chef but it’s difficult when you can’t afford healthy ingredients. I feel confident in my body though. Obviously, I have bad days as everyone does but I don’t mind my large thighs or my chubby belly, I’ve always been taught to love myself so that’s what I try to do.
I finish getting changed. Now dressed in a navy skirted leotard and nude tights, as well as my go-to tatty jazz shoes. Mum managed to find some second hand at a charity shop and I have loved them ever since.
“In we come girls,” Professor Brennan calls. We all file into the dance studio and face the large mirror, finding ourselves a decent space to begin our warm up.
“Right, we’re going to start with a simple warm up to get our blood pumping and then you will try a combination so I can see your skill level. Ready? 5,6,7,8.” The music begins playing, I don’t recognize it but it has a steady beat. Professor Brennan is the picture of a ballerina: tall and slim, her hair in a perfect low bun. Despite this only being a warm up she adds as much grace and enthusiasm as one would in a live performance.
I copy every move she does with ease: a light jog, jumping jacks, lunges, squats, push-ups. I look over at Harley who seems to be struggling slightly with her push-ups.
“Harley, if it’s too hard try resting on your knees rather than your toes,” I smile encouraging her. She does as I say and smiles in appreciation clearly finding it easier.
“Time for some stretches,” we all move to sit on the floor our legs stretched apart walking out hands forward as far as we can reach them. I steady my breathing allowing myself to relax into my stretches. There’s something quite therapeutic about this.
“Fantastic girls, now I’m going to show you a simple lyrical combination. We’re going to start facing front and from there we reach up with our right arm, lifting our left leg. Then we go Pas De Bourree, Pas De Bourree, fan kick, two Pique turns and end with a Reverence. I’ll give you a few seconds to go over it and then we will each take turns.”
“Damn, I’ll never get this,” Harley’s shoulders slump.
“Me neither,” Angelica and Lola chime in.
“I’ll help you girls and anyway it doesn’t need to be perfect she just wants to see everyone’s ability.”
I take my time demonstrating the steps slowly, helping the girls as they glide from move to move. Lola has a natural lightness and ease to her moves which makes it easier for her than Angelica who frankly has two left feet. Harley keeps her movements slow and controlled while Georgina is rather dramatic with hers. After ten minutes, Professor Brennan calls our attention back to the front.
“Now girls who wants to go first?” Charity’s hand shoots straight up as she walks to the front of the room. “Whenever you’re ready Miss Drinckall.”
Charity gets into her starting position as the music begins. She starts prematurely but picks the music back up as she moves into her Pas De Bourree. I watch her in shock, she wasn’t lying when she was boasting about being good in the changing rooms. Her fan kick is excellent but she falters slightly on the Pique turns, wobbling as she moves across the room. She ends with a Reverence but stumbles as the music cuts out. If she hadn’t put as much pressure on herself, I bet she would’ve done that combination perfectly.
“Very good Miss Drinckall, just make sure to watch your turns next time.”
A few more girls give the combination a go: most average, a few surprisingly good. Soon enough it is my turn. I get into position and let out a deep breath and close my eyes. I don’t know how good I am or even if I have good technique, I just lose myself in the music, allowing my body to breathe the movements. I end with a Reverence and the sound of applause fills my ears. I open my eyes and look round the room, everyone is stood there applauding me. I give a shy smile and look over to Professor Brennan.
“Miss Anders, that was simply phenomenal. Have you taken dance lessons before?”
“No Ma’am, I’ve always loved to dance but I’ve never had any lessons.”
“Well, you dance like you’ve had professional training. I’m thinking of forming a dance team to perform at school events and I’d love it if you would join.”
“That would be a dream come true, thank you so much Ma’am.” I beam. Holy shit, a dance team.
“If you wouldn’t mind demonstrating you’re Pique turns again, I’d like to point something out.”
I resume my position in front of the mirror and begin the turns as Professor Brennan discusses technique with the other girls. I do three perfect turns before my foot catches on something and I hit the ground with a thud. Pain shoots through my ankle and I try desperately not to scream. Someone tripped me. I look up and see Charity’s mask of mock concern, her smirk threatening to seep through her façade. She can’t let me have anything, she’s just jealous Brennan wanted me on the team and not her.
“Millie are you okay?” Lola kneels down next to me.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I shrug it off, forcing myself to stand up. The minute I do pain courses through me again and I collapse back onto the floor. “Maybe I’m not.” I admit.
“Angelica go get the nurse; this foot needs to be bandaged so Miss Anders won’t hurt herself even more. Don’t worry, it’s only sprained. You’ll be good as new in a couple of weeks.” Professor Brennan smiles, examining my foot.
“A few weeks? I can’t dance for weeks?”
“Unfortunately, not my dear.”
At that moment everything gets too much, I allow my emotions to consume me. Tears flood out of my eyes, streaming down my face. This class was the one I was most excited for, the one getting me through all the bad days and it’s been taken away from me. Just because of one stupid trip. I swear if Professor Brennan doesn’t punish Charity I sure will and she’ll get something far worse than a sprained ankle.
As if on cue, Professor Brennan stands up and turns her attention to Charity. “Miss Drinckall it is blatantly obvious that you tripped Miss Anders on purpose and for that reason you will have a three-week detention with Professor Montgomery. No excuses.”
Charity’s smirk drops, her eyes well up. “But Ma,am -”
“No excuses.”
The nurse comes rushing through the door with Angelica. “Move.” She barks, pushing people out the way to get to me. “A sprained ankle, that’s easy enough.” Her meaty hand grabs my ankle with force, I bite my lip to contain my scream. This woman is not gentle. In one swift movement s
he lifts me from the floor and carries me to the nurse’s office, hitting my head on the door on the way out of the dance studio. Can this day get any worse?
Chapter Eight
The disruption of the safe place
After spending the rest of the morning in the Nurse’s office, which let me tell you was not relaxing in any way, it’s now time for English. Nurse Bertha told me not to go but I have to get away for my sanity. I hobble as best I can all the way to the English classroom on the third floor. I get there slightly late but Professor Sharma is forgiving when she sees my foot.
“I’ve made a seating plan after what happened in Monday’s lesson.” She glances over to me and I hang my head in shame. “Now when I call your name please sit in the seat I point to.”
She begins to rattle off the names. Angelica is next to Georgina. Teddy next to Harley’s brother, Henry Cockle. Lola next to a girl named Isla Bradwyn. Charity is placed in the back corner, hopefully far away from me.
“Roman Kingsbury, you will be here.” Professor Sharma points at the third row while Charity audibly pouts about not being able to sit with him.
“Don’t worry babe, we’ll still have after class,” he winks at her. Ugh someone give me a bucket.
“Millicent Anders, you’re next to him.” What?
“Next to who, Ma’am?” Not Roman. Not Roman.
“Mr. Kingsbury.”
“NO!” The pair of us exclaim at the same time. At least we agree on one thing.
“There is no way I’m sitting next to her, she’s a guttersnipe.”
“We will not use words like that in my classroom, Mr. Kingsbury.”
“I can’t sit next to him, he’s a pompous prick!”
“Language Miss Anders. Look it’s clear you two don’t like each other but maybe you just don’t understand each other. So, you will sit together for a month and if you still dislike one another we can change it.”
I huff, dropping into my seat. How am I ever going to cope a month sitting next to this jerk? I’ll just do my best to ignore him, that’s the only way.
“I’ll never like you guttersnipe. People like me don’t mix with people like you.”
“You mean people with obnoxious personalities don’t mix with people who are actually nice? Exactly, that’s why I don’t associate myself with you.”
“Just do yourself a favour and don’t talk to me from now on. Ever. I know it’ll be hard seen as I’m so irresistible but please try.”
“Your arrogance is suffocating.”
“Sorry? I don’t speak poor.”
He has me so angry I have no words so I just stick my middle finger up at him. He glares at me then turns the other way. Millie 1 – Roman 0. Take that ass-wipe.
The rest of English is painful. I try to enjoy our discussion of Hard Times by Charles Dickens, but I’m having a hard time concentrating with Roman’s irritated breathing and eyes glaring into my soul. The minute the bell rings I jump up so quickly in an effort to get away, forgetting about my ankle before grimacing in pain and sitting back down. Roman snickers as he walks away. God, I hate that guy. Teddy and Lola come over to help me and walk me back to our dorm. I collapse on the bed and am instantly overtaken by sleep.
***
I wake up to a sharp pain in my foot. Rolling over to grab my water and take two ibuprofens, I look at my clock and see it’s 1am. Great. Tossing and turning for ten minutes I realise there is no way I’ll be able to sleep now. Shuffling out of bed, conscious not to make any noise and wake the girls. I hop over, with great difficulty, to my wardrobe and grab a jumper, a pair of trainers and my worn copy of Little Women before quietly exiting the room. I slowly make my way along the corridor, down the stairs and out of the school in the direction of my tree. This isn’t the smartest idea as I can’t walk but I need tranquillity.
I heave myself onto the grass at the trunk of the tree, resting my back against it. I open my book and switch on my portable reading light. My mind is instantly filled with images the March sisters all huddled at Marmie’s lap, making me miss my mum. I know she’s in the school but I don’t see her much and it sucks. I’ve never gone a day without seeing her till now and I’m still not used to it. As I’m reading, I hear a noise, a faint sniffling sound. Looking around, my heart racing, I slowly stand up and make my way round the other side of the tree. What I find shocks me. There huddled in a ball in the dark is Roman Kingsbury: crying.
I peer down at him from behind the tree. He’s in a pair of pine coloured silk pyjamas, his curls in a nest on his head, his back bent over, head in between his knees. Not wanting to disturb him, I step back and accidentally stand on a twig creating a crack. Shit. His head whips round, my concerned face glowing in the moonlight due to the paleness of my skin.
“Can’t I ever get peace?” He snarls. “What’re you doing here? Come to gloat? Oh, poor little Roman Kingsbury, such a big baby crying in the dark.” He snaps at me.
“This is my tree. I couldn’t sleep so I came out here to read and that’s when I heard you. Are you okay?” I ask with genuine concern putting aside our differences.
“Your tree? Didn’t know you owned it; you don’t own anything do you?”
He’s upset, don’t rise to it. “Yes, I don’t own much but you don’t need to comment on it. Anyway, I didn’t mean it was mine it’s just the place I come when I need peace. I’ll ask again, are you okay?”
“Ha,” he lets out a hearty laugh. “Like you even care.”
“I do care.” I say with genuine honesty.
“Why?” He looks at me disgusted.
“Because you’re very clearly upset and I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Now I know you’re lying.”
“Just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean I want you to be miserable.”
“Why not? I like it when you’re miserable.” Of course he does.
“Well, that’s the difference between us,” I sigh.
“Just go away, you wouldn’t understand anyway.”
“And why’s that? I’ve had my fair share of troubles.”
“Because you’re a guttersnipe.”
There goes my chill. “Forget it, I was just trying to be a good person and help you feel better but no. You don’t accept my kindness and you continue to call me that horrid name. I am not a guttersnipe. Yes, I don’t have a lot of money and you do, I get that Roman but being wealthy doesn’t give you the right to call me derogatory names whenever you feel like it. You’re an awful person and I swear if I ever see you again -” My breathing is ragged, my nails digging crescents into my skin. “You make me so angry I can’t even speak properly. I hope you’re happy. You and your evil friends are making my experience here the worst of my life and you don’t even care. I hope you’re happy because thanks to you I’m seriously considering leaving this school, so well-done Prince Kingsbury you’ve fucking won.”
I storm off as fast I can, trying to ignore the pain in my foot. I hate that guy so much. I have never met someone so infuriating in my life, he makes my blood boil. I get about a metre away from him before I collapse in pain, my foot throbbing.
“Son of a bitch,” I yell.
“You okay?” Roman has the audacity to come and talk to me, to ask if I’m okay.
“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth.
“You don’t look fine.”
“Thanks for pointing out the obvious Einstein.”
“What happened?” Is he serious? Why doesn’t he just leave me alone?
“You’re girlfriend, that’s who.”
“Who? Oh Charity, she’s not my girlfriend.” He says with assertiveness, like he’s trying to make it very clear.
“Okay, why do I care? Can you leave me alone now?”
“No, I’ll help you get back to the school.”
“What is wrong with you?” I shout. “I try to help you; you snap at me and call me names so I tell you how I feel about you and how you’re making my life here a misery and now you
think I’ll let you help me. No thank you, it doesn’t hurt that bad.” I stand up, my whole body radiating in pain.
“Millie let me help you.”
“Millie,” I scoff. “What makes you think you have the right to call me that? You don’t even have the right to call me Millicent. You’re nothing to me, let alone my friend and Millie is reserved for friends only.” I start to hobble off.
“Hey,” Roman reaches out and grabs me by the arm. I swing my free arm round and punch him, my fist colliding with his face.
“Leave me alone,” I scream as I take off running ignoring the burning pain surging through my body. I don’t stop running until I reach my door. Swinging open the door, I drop to the floor screaming in agony. Lola and Harley jump straight out of bed and run over to me.
“Millie, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Harley asks, concern lacing her voice.
I can’t look at them. I can’t speak. All I can do is cry, which is exactly what I do.
Chapter Nine
The Three weeks of hiding
It’s been three weeks since the incident at the tree. Three weeks since I ran back to my dorm in utter agony. Three weeks since I’ve spoken to Roman, spoken much to anyone really. I’ve avoided Roman as much as possible, meaning I haven’t been back to the tree in three weeks out of fear of bumping into him.
Week one was probably the hardest.
After collapsing into the dorm that night, I spent the next three days in bed resting my majorly swollen foot. Those days were the most peaceful if I’m honest. They were spent rotating between reading and sleeping. The girls tried to talk to me a couple of times but I wasn’t in the mood to be social, I haven’t been for three weeks. I don’t know what it was but that argument with Roman has really affected me. I don’t know what hurt me more: the fact he dismissed my help, called me guttersnipe or that he called me Millie. I know it sounds crazy but when he called me the name reserved for my friends and family, I felt something stir inside me, a small burning, probably just anger.
