Friday Night Stage Lights

by Rachele Alpine

  “Everything you’d gain if you can dance your solo,” I said to myself.

  “I have to get into that school,” I said out loud.

  I got up from the bed, stood in front of my mirror, and did a relevé.

  “I will get into that school,” I told my reflection, even if the thought of dancing a solo terrified me.

  Chapter 5

  I lived in ignorant bliss for the next few days and pretended what Tanner had said about the middle school team was only a rumor. I didn’t mention it to any of my friends who went to the studio, because it was best to simply push it out of my mind.

  There was this teeny tiny bit of hope that still existed in me that what Tanner was talking about wasn’t true. Maybe the classes would be at the school and the boys wouldn’t step foot into the studio. Maybe the team was going to a different dance studio. Maybe it wasn’t happening at all. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But if there was one thing that I’d learned, it was that wishing didn’t always do much good. If it did, I’d be still living in Oregon and dancing with my friends.

  Mom pulled into our driveway shortly before dance class was supposed to start. I ran outside with my bag and jumped into the car.

  “Sorry I’m running a little late,” she told me. “I was on the phone with one of the other players’ moms, and I couldn’t get her to stop talking.”

  “It’s okay,” I told her. “It’s not like I’m looking forward to class today.”

  Mom placed her hand on top of mine and gave me a reassuring pat that didn’t help one bit. “Just keep an open mind, honey. Maybe it’s not true, and if it is, you never know what they might add to the studio. Maybe you’ll be glad that they’re there.”

  “I doubt it,” I told her, and it hurt a little that she didn’t see what a big deal it was to me. If there was anyone in this world who knew how important dance was to me, it was Mom. She was my biggest cheerleader and always there for me.

  Well, almost always, I thought to myself as memories from my horrible, awful recital crept into my mind. I leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes. Think about something positive, I chanted. Think about something positive. So I thought about our trip to Portland that we took two years ago and wished more than anything we were back there now.

  Shortly after Mom had begun to date Stephen, she’d planned a girls’ weekend for us to see The Nutcracker in Portland. I’d performed in the show before, but it would be my first time seeing a professional tour, and I could hardly contain my excitement. I watched video after video of the show being performed on YouTube, the girls at my studio got sick of me talking so much about it, and I made a giant countdown chart that I hung in the kitchen, so Mom and I could check off each day as we got closer and closer to the trip.

  I couldn’t wait to not only see the show but to be alone with Mom since so much of her time had been taken over by Stephen. And we’d get to be together all weekend; since we lived a couple of hours away, Mom had booked a hotel for the trip.

  The two of us talked and joked the entire drive to Portland and painted our nails in the fancy bathrobes that were in the hotel room and stayed up late watching movies. I could hardly sleep, and could you blame me? I was about to see The Nutcracker the next day!

  I’d chosen what I thought was the perfect outfit: a lace dress with long sleeves and a skirt that billowed out around me, white tights, and ballet flats. I had braided my hair around my head like a crown, and Mom had told me I looked like I belonged on the stage.

  We went to a fancy restaurant for brunch before the show, but it was nearly impossible to eat anything because all I could think about was how today was the day I got to see a real live professional ballet company. I remember sitting in the seats at the theater almost wishing the show wouldn’t start. It sounds weird, but the weekend had been amazing and I was so excited for the ballet that I didn’t want it to end. After I watched the show, we would have to leave, and it was back to a life where I had to share Mom with Stephen.

  Once it started, though, I was swept away by everything. I was familiar with the dances, sets, and costumes from being in the show myself, but nothing compared to what it was like to sit in the audience and watch a professional company.

  It was beautiful, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.

  Mom couldn’t either. The two of us were captivated. At one point, when Clara was dancing with the nutcracker toy she had received, Mom turned to me.

  “You dance like that,” she had whispered, and I got chills. There was no way I danced that well, but there in that theater with the lights down and the music filling my ears, I believed that I could move across the stage like that. I could create magic too. And that was when I promised myself one day that would be me. I would do whatever it took to become a principal dancer.

  That weekend had been the best of my life. And not only because I’d gotten to see The Nutcracker by a professional company, but because I’d gotten to see it with Mom. And there was nothing better than time where it was just the two of us, especially since as soon as we got home, Stephen was back in the equation again.

  I thought about that day the entire drive to the studio. When Mom got there, she stopped the car and reached over to hug me.

  “Whatever you find out, you’ll be incredible, honey. You’re an amazing dancer. It’ll all be okay.”

  “I hope so,” I told her and got out of the car, holding her words deep inside of me for courage.

  Chapter 6

  Most of the class was already in the studio warming up, but before I joined them, I took a minute to catch my breath and prepare myself for what was coming.

  I slipped into the changing room and leaned against the wall. The changing room had its usual mess of clothes, bags, and hairpins. The sticky residue of hair spray clouded the mirrors, and after-school snacks and phones littered the top of the long counter that stretched across the length of the room. I breathed in the scents of rosin, perfume, and sweat.

  “This place is more of a home than Stephen’s house,” I said out loud.

  It wasn’t like Mom and Stephen hadn’t tried to make me feel like I belonged. They did. The two of them created that awesome studio in the basement, and Stephen repainted my room the same color it was at my house in Oregon. He even set all the furniture up in the same way. It did look like we transported my room, but everything was a tiny bit off. For example, when I went to sleep at night, I expected to turn over in bed and look out the window, but in the new house there was a door there instead and the window was on the other side of the room, with a streetlamp that made shadows on the walls. Stephen and Tanner liked to keep the air-conditioning cranked up, so you had to pile blankets up on your bed even when it was warm outside, and let’s not talk about the time I got up in the middle of the night and ran into Tanner in his boxers. No, seriously, I don’t want to talk about it. Ever again.

  So my new home didn’t seem like, well, home. And that made things a million time worse when you were missing your friends and just wanted something familiar.

  But at Center Stage Dance Studio, life was right again. Because when you dance, it’s the same everywhere. Arabesque, grand jeté, and relevé don’t change. Swanhilda and Franz always get married at the end of Coppélia, and the balcony pas de deux in Romeo and Juliet will always be one of the most beautiful dances in the world. I have a sticker on one of my notebooks that says DANCE IS THE UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE, which is so true. You could go anywhere in the world, and it would all be the same.

  That was why I loved being at the studio. I showed up the first day, Mary Rose had us do a fouetté sequence, and I didn’t even have to hesitate, because I knew exactly what she wanted. Unlike Stephen and Tanner’s house, where I still have to search for things in the kitchen and forget that it takes the shower forever to heat up, and I jump in when it’s still freezing. There was nothing familiar about their house, and sometimes I worried that it would always be that way.

  I changed and joined the class on the floor as
Mary Rose fiddled with the sound system. I watched everyone for signs that she had mentioned the football team, but nothing seemed different. Elliana’s nails were painted her signature bright colors in neon green and blue, Maggie kneeled to stretch her quads, and Adeline licked her hand and tried to tame the million flyaway curls that always escaped her bun, no matter how many bobby pins she used. Everything seemed normal. It was another day in class, which could mean that Tanner had been wrong.

  “All right, let’s get started,” Mary Rose said, and we easily fell into the routine and drills of a typical class. I pushed and moved my body until I was lost in the music and transported to another world where dance was king and football didn’t exist.

  Jayden grabbed my hand and pulled me into a spin. “You weren’t here stretching with us. I thought you’d decided to ditch me.”

  “Are you kidding? You’re never going to be able to shake me,” I told him and broke away to do a pirouette.

  “Partners for life,” he said, and the two of us did the special handshake we’d made up when we promised to try out for TSOTA together.

  “How did I get so lucky?” I asked as he spun me around.

  And I meant it. Because if it weren’t for Jayden, I’d never even try out for the school. I wouldn’t have had the courage.

  The way it worked here was that there was an All-City Showcase every year that all the dance schools within about an hour radius participated in. You were able to prepare two dances; one solo and one pas de deux, which is a ballet for two people. Scouts from preprofessional programs, schools, and summer intensives showed up from all over the country. That meant there would be people from TSOTA in the audience, which was enough to start a million butterflies swirling inside of my stomach.

  Mary Rose had suggested that Jayden and I dance together. She had thought we could impress the judges with some of the lifts you could do with a partner. I couldn’t believe it when Jayden agreed. He’s the best dancer in our class. With him as my partner, we might have a real shot at getting into the school. And I told myself that when Jayden and I wowed the judges, I’d be so happy that I wouldn’t have time to worry about the solo.

  At least that’s what I hoped.

  So here we were, four weeks later, going over our All-City Showcase number and dreaming about being in the newest entering freshman class at Texas School of the Arts.

  “I’d never ditch out on my partner,” I told Jayden. “Mom was doing some football stuff and running a little late.”

  “Aww . . . Tanner the Great needed her,” Jayden joked, and that’s part of why he was the greatest partner ever. He wasn’t impressed with my stepbrother either. Partly because his own brother, Malik, played on the team with Tanner. Jayden’s dad constantly got on his case about dancing instead of playing sports, especially since Jayden was already six feet tall. But Jayden didn’t care; he called himself the LeBron James of ballet and said he was never happier than when he danced.

  “Right? Speaking of football, Tanner said that—” But before I could finish, Mary Rose clapped her hands.

  “Okay, Jayden and Brooklyn, let’s see you run through the Showcase dance.”

  We took our spots on the floor and the opening notes of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in C Minor began. The music was as familiar as breathing. Jayden and I moved across the floor, and once again the world evaporated and I was lost in the dance. When I danced with Jayden, it was instinct. I didn’t need to think; my brain shut off and my muscles remembered every move. He was the perfect partner, never faltering and able to anticipate my every move. His hold on me was sure and firm as I turned into my pirouettes, and I didn’t have to worry that he wouldn’t be there for me.

  The two of us finished with a series of piqué turns and lowered ourselves to the floor. We stayed there as we worked to catch our breath.

  Jayden turned toward me.

  “Can you see it?” he whispered.

  “See what?”

  “Our future at Texas School of the Arts. We’ve got this. We’re going to blow those judges away.”

  I could imagine it. The halls full of people with dance bags, art supplies, and instruments. Days spent studying different artists, rehearsing, and supporting each other as we created new things. Our nights would be busy with student performances, poetry slams, and exhibitions instead of football games. And I’d become so good that Juilliard would beg me to be part of their Summer Dance Intensive.

  “Wonderful,” Mary Rose said and interrupted my daydream.

  “She said we were wonderful,” Jayden said and grinned.

  “We’ve got this,” I said. Because “wonderful” might only be one word, but from her, it was the best kind of feedback. Mary Rose had been a principal dancer for the San Francisco Ballet and still danced locally. If something was good in her eyes, you were doing it right, and everyone here strived to get her approval.

  She ran through a few other Showcase numbers with students in our class and then ended our usual cool down, but instead of dismissing us to go, Mary Rose asked us all to stay for a minute.

  “I need to talk with you about an amazing opportunity we have,” she said, and that’s when my heart sank because you didn’t have to be a mind reader to guess what she was about to say. “We’re adding a class to our schedule, so there will be some new guests in the studio.”

  Maggie groaned. “Please don’t tell me it’s another tap class. I get such a headache on Wednesdays when they use the room before us. It’s nothing but a ton of banging around.”

  “You mean the toddlers’ class? The same one you were once in?” Adeline asked. “I’m pretty sure making a lot of noise is all a group of three-year-olds are good at.”

  “Whatever, it’s still a bunch of racket,” Maggie said and rubbed her temples as if the class were happening right now.

  “No more tap classes,” Mary Rose said. “But this group does have a lot of cheering fans.”

  I swallowed a giant lump in my throat and pictured Randy, a boy in my biology class who played on the team. A few weeks ago, when we were dissecting frogs, he had thrown an eyeball in the air and it got stuck in the lights. It was the grossest thing ever, but his whole group of football friends thought it was hilarious. So yeah, that’s the type of people who will be joining our class.

  I wanted my earbuds so I could drown out everything she was saying. Maybe it would go away if I refused to listen. I wished that were the case, but Mary Rose continued to talk about how great this all would be for us.

  “Although it sounds somewhat unusual, Leighton Middle School’s football team will take conditioning classes here once a week, and I hope you’ll give them a warm welcome. This certainly won’t be easy for them, so seeing some friendly faces will help.”

  I glanced around the room and expected to see everyone as outraged as I was to have our studio invaded, and while a few of them looked annoyed or confused, most of my classmates nodded in agreement. Adeline and Elliana were even whispering and smiling, and I saw Maggie and Kirsten high-five each other.

  This was awful. My classmates weren’t against the idea of the team coming to the studio. In fact, they were excited about it.

  I had to do something.

  I needed to put a stop to this madness.

  I jumped to my feet and spoke up loud enough that everyone could hear me above the excited chatter in the room.

  “Aren’t you worried about them not taking things seriously?” I asked, because maybe if she knew how much they joked around, she’d reconsider everything. Maybe everyone would.

  “Oh, the coach has assured me that they are very serious about this. I’ve worked with athletes before, and the benefits from dance conditioning are pretty obvious. They’re thankful for this chance.”

  Shoot. That obviously didn’t work. I needed to change strategies. Maybe I couldn’t stop the classes from happening, but I could try to keep them far away from the studio.

  “Wouldn’t it make more sense if you held classe
s at the school? That way the boys wouldn’t have to travel all the way here,” I said.

  “The boys will need to use the barre and mirror to check their positions, so we need to get them into the studio,” Mary Rose said.

  Into my studio, I thought. The one place in Leighton that hadn’t been infested by football players. And now it was. And there was nothing I could do about it.

  Chapter 7

  I rushed out before anyone could see my tears. It was stupid to cry, but I couldn’t help it. Ever since we’d moved here, it was as if all the color had drained out of me and I was this black-and-white version of myself. The only time I felt like myself again was at Center Stage Dance Studio. Ballet was all I’d had left that was truly me, and now I’d lost that, too.

  I changed as fast as I could, but the other girls came into the dressing room before I was done and the conversation about the football team hadn’t stopped.

  “Can you believe this news?” Maggie asked, and for a minute, I thought that she was against it. But nope. “This is the greatest thing ever!”

  “It’s like we won the lottery!” Elliana said and giggled. “I call dibs on the cutest one!”

  “Maybe Mary Rose will let them join us in class and we can practice some lifts. Can you imagine anything better?” Adeline asked.

  Um, yes, I could. I could imagine a million different things better. You know, like sitting in a bathtub full of cockroaches, having to get a filling without Novocain, or eating ghost peppers. Pretty much anything in the whole entire world was better than the new conditioning classes.

  “What do you think, Brooklyn?” Maggie asked.

  “Think about what?” Maybe I could play dumb and they’d leave me alone, because it was obvious no one else agreed with my view, so I wasn’t about to bring it up in front of all of them.

  “About what Mary Rose—”

  “Oh wow, look. My phone is ringing. Sorry, I have to take this.” I ran out of the room with my phone, which was most definitely not ringing, but they didn’t need to know that.