Friday Night Stage Lights

by Rachele Alpine

  Mom.

  Even though I was grateful Tanner was going with me, the fact that she wasn’t coming tonight still made my heart ache. And unfortunately, it reminded me way too much of how I’d felt the night she hadn’t come to my recital, and that was something I never wanted to revisit again. If things had worked out the way they were supposed to, Mom and I would have been at dinner right now. We’d probably be deciding what dessert we should get, and maybe it would be too hard to decide, so Mom would say to pick two. We’d be having the best time talking and catching up with each other, since I hardly saw Mom anymore. Things would be like they used to. It was exactly the type of night I needed so desperately, but it wasn’t going to happen.

  “Earth to Brooklyn,” Tanner said, and I snapped out of my daydream. “I asked if you were ready to go.”

  “Sure,” I said and tried to sound enthusiastic, even if I wasn’t.

  The two of us headed out, and I was thankful when Tanner turned the radio on, so I didn’t have to say anything. The music helped take my mind off of Mom not being here, and by the time we made it to TSOTA, my mood was a bit better. Maybe Mom wasn’t here, but I was going to Thursday Evening of Art. And if I danced well at the Showcase, I might be a part of this one day. It would be me that everyone would be coming to see.

  I led Tanner into the school. I’d never been here before, but it still looked familiar. I recognized the main entry that led to the theater from the pictures of the website. The familiar stained-glass windows that stood on either side of the office looked amazing in the last of the evening light. Framed photos of graduates who’d gone on to work professionally in their specialized area hung on the wall. Their head shots smiled back at me, and below were plaques declaring what each of them were doing now.

  JULIANNA LOWE—DESIGNER FOR MACY’S

  JUIN-YE LING—ARTIST FOR PIXAR

  SAMUEL FOSTER—FLUTIST IN THE CLEVELAND ORCHESTRA

  CAMPBELL TANNING—SOLOIST IN THE SAN JOSE BALLET

  I ran my fingers over Campbell’s plaque. She was a legend at Center Stage Dance Studio. She had trained under Mary Rose ten years ago and landed a spot at TSOTA. She’d quickly begun to dance the lead roles in the Evenings of Art, and it wasn’t long before she caught the eye of the New York Academy of Ballet. They offered her a spot there, but she chose to stay in Texas. Everyone thought she was making a mistake, but she was superclose with her sister and loved this school. It was a choice that proved to be the right one, because she was now a soloist in the San Jose Ballet. I watched her videos over and over again online and dreamed about having a similar story.

  “Where do you think your picture is going to go?” Tanner asked, startling me out of my thoughts. I’d gotten so caught up in Campbell’s story that I’d forgotten where I was.

  “I have to get into the school first,” I reminded him. “We’re nowhere near picking out my space on the wall.”

  “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with dreaming big,” Tanner told me.

  It kind of seemed silly to dream that big, but it was pretty great to know Tanner believed in me. Here he was cheering me on as if he were my biggest fan.

  We wandered around the area by the theater a little longer. There was art set up all over: Pictures sat on easels, sculptures on small tables, and giant paintings hung on the walls. I examined each of them and imagined myself as a student here, until the lights flashed, indicating that the show was about to start.

  Tanner put his hand on his hip with his elbow out to me. “Shall we?” he asked, and I linked my arm through his.

  “We should,” I agreed and the two of us headed into the theater and found our seats.

  I loved every minute of the show. There were performances by soloists and ensembles of music and dance, and every part of it was amazing. The audience agreed, and we all cheered and clapped at the end of each performance. After one girl named Maddie did a solo on the piano where she played so fast, it looked as if her fingers were a blur, the entire room stood and gave her a standing ovation.

  “Wow, she’s really good,” Tanner whispered, and I nodded in agreement. But also, somewhere deep inside of me a knot of fear and doubt settled. The dancers here were incredible. Some of them looked as good as the professionals that Mom and I had seen in The Nutcracker. Was I nuts to think that I could get into this school? I wasn’t anywhere near as talented as these dancers.

  The audience broke into applause and pulled me out of my thoughts. I gestured at them for Tanner.

  “What do you think?” I asked him. “This is pretty much like being at a football game, right?”

  “The funny thing is, this isn’t too far off. Well, besides the fact that no one is painted up or wearing the school’s colors.”

  “They’re a little classier here,” I said.

  “Oh, that’s the difference? Maybe I’ll ask Leighton High to dress up for the next game. Everyone can wear their finest suits and formal dresses.”

  “I’d love to see that,” I said and laughed, picturing everyone cheering the team on in heels and diamonds.

  Tanner bumped his shoulder into mine playfully. “Thanks for letting me come to this with you. The stuff everyone here can do is pretty impressive.”

  “Thanks for agreeing to come with me,” I said.

  “I know I’ll see you up there too,” Tanner replied.

  I closed my eyes and allowed myself to imagine that just might happen.

  “That would be pretty wonderful, wouldn’t it?” I asked and then thought back again to how good everyone had been up on the stage and how getting into this school did seem like making the impossible happen. “But it’s really difficult to get in here.”

  “I’ve seen how hard you work. Plus, you’re good. Nope, getting in isn’t going to be the hard part.”

  “Then what is?” I asked.

  “Figuring out how to get three tickets to Thursday Evening of Art instead of two, since I’m going to want to be sitting there right beside my dad and your mom cheering you on.”

  Tanner’s words warmed me up inside. I loved that he wanted to come and see me dance at a Thursday Evening of Art, but I wondered if he’d ever get that chance.

  Chapter 42

  Mom apologized over and over again for missing Thursday Evening of Art, and while it wasn’t her fault she’d had to work, there was still a part of me that was superhurt she hadn’t gone. It hit too close to home and reminded me of the night she didn’t show up for my recital. I think that was part of the reason why I still hadn’t danced my solo for Mary Rose. She kept asking me to perform it for her, but something was holding me back, and I was pretty sure it had a lot to do with Mom. Dasha was the only one who had seen it since my horrible, awful recital, and I wasn’t quite ready to perform it for anyone else yet, especially after watching everyone perform at Texas School of the Arts. I was so nervous something bad would happen again, but if I couldn’t dance my solo in front of anyone, how did I ever expect to get into the school?

  “Sooner or later, I need to see your solo. Regardless of whether you’ve danced it in the past, I can’t let you do it in the Showcase without my approval,” Mary Rose said, and I knew that she wasn’t going to tolerate my stalling much longer.

  “I’ll dance it. I just want to work on it a little more myself,” I told her, which was the excuse I’d been giving her this entire time.

  “It would be good to give me some time to work with you on it. We want to make sure your technique is solid,” she said.

  “I’m pretty sure that after Brooklyn and I perform our dance, all those scouts won’t want to see any more,” Logan joked. “They’ll be convinced that she’s the perfect dancer.”

  “I wish that were true,” I told Logan.

  “There is such a thing as being overconfident,” Mary Rose said.

  “I know, right? That’s why we aren’t letting our amazing dancing abilities go to our heads,” Logan joked.

  “Okay, you two. Let’s try the end of the dance again. I
think you’ve almost got this double shoulder lift.”

  Mary Rose turned the music on, and Logan and I threw ourselves into the movements. The two of us had all the steps down, and everything seemed to go right. We were even able to do the shoulder lift without my wobbling or being afraid Logan would drop me. We had been working on that move for what felt like forever. It had been tough going for a while, as in I got dropped on the floor more than once and had bruises all over, but finally, we did it!

  The two of us stood in shock.

  “Did we just do what I think we did?” Logan asked.

  “Do you mean danced better than we ever have before?”

  “Um, yeah. That was pretty awesome. We conquered that lift. It looked as if you were flying.”

  “I felt like I was,” I told him.

  “I never knew how hard it was to do that. You all make dance look effortless.”

  “If it looks easy, that means we’re working hard.” I loved that he got it. Dance took a ton of work, and most people never even realized it.

  “I think you two have this down,” Mary Rose said. “Logan, you might be able to fool these talent scouts into thinking that you’ve been dancing for years.”

  “Maybe you should let them know you’re interested in being recruited too,” I joked. “Although I’m not sure I want to compete with you over one of the spots.”

  “You’re totally onto something,” Logan agreed. “Forget football—I’m going to be a ballerina.”

  “Ballerina or not, you two are ready for this,” Mary Rose said, and maybe she was right. Maybe these doubts that kept sneaking into my mind were silly. Maybe we could do this. And that was amazing. It was the type of news I’d share with Mia. I was dying to tell her how we just might pull this off, but then reality crashed back into me. I couldn’t tell her. We weren’t talking. For a moment, I thought about texting her and telling her that I accepted her apology. I missed her, that was for sure, but I couldn’t shake the awfulness of what she’d done to me, and I wasn’t ready to forgive and forget.

  “We’re going to rule the All-City Showcase!” Logan said and pumped his fist in the air. “Those judges won’t know what hit them when we get onstage. I wouldn’t be surprised if they named the school after you.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not sure about that, but I do feel good about getting into the school. And it’s because of you. Thanks again for agreeing to be my partner.”

  “Hey, remember, it’s helping me, too. Coach Konarski mentioned my improvement again the other day ago, and I was able to cut two more tenths off of my forty-yard dash! I’m almost at 5.4 seconds!”

  “That’s great!” I said, happy this was working for both of us. “Wait until Coach sees you twirling across the field with the ball!”

  “Oh, yeah! It’ll be our team’s secret weapon!” Logan took off across the studio doing his version of split leaps. He was making a joke out of them, flinging his arms out, but this time I didn’t get angry. I knew this time, he wasn’t making fun of me.

  Logan pretended to be an announcer as he spun. “The defense doesn’t have a chance! Logan is twirling across the field with the greatest of ease! He’s unstoppable! Look at him go!”

  He moved across the length of the studio and spun right into Randy as he walked through the door.

  Logan tried to stop, but the spinning had made him dizzy, so he grabbed the wall to try to center himself.

  “Logan?” Randy asked, confused at first, but then he saw me and Mary Rose and began to put two and two together. “Are you taking classes here?”

  “No,” Logan quickly said, which was technically true, but I had a hunch that’s not what he wanted Randy to think.

  “Then why are you here?” Randy asked, not buying it for a minute.

  “I’m here because Brooklyn needed help. . . .” He swept his arm around the place like it would explain something, but then slowly let it fall back down.

  His face gave it away. He was embarrassed to be here. Embarrassed to be seen rehearsing with me. It might be okay to tell his family what he was doing, but when it came to Randy it was a whole different story. He had no intention of owning up to him about it. And that was not cool.

  “Hey, it’s all good,” Randy said and headed toward the lost-and-found box Mary Rose kept in the corner. Usually, it was full of mismatched socks and leg warmers, but Randy pulled out a red sweatshirt and held it up. “I forgot this after our last conditioning class, and my mom was on my case about making sure it didn’t go missing. If I would’ve known you were going to be here, I could have asked you to pick it up after your ballerina classes. Anyway, it’s nice running into you.”

  “Randy,” Mary Rose said firmly, catching on to what he was doing.

  Randy headed out the door but stopped and spoke to Logan again. “I hope you’re not thinking of leaving the team to take up dancing. I don’t want to hear about you ditching your shoulder pads for tights.”

  I opened my mouth to give Randy a piece of my mind, but closed it. This was between the two of them. I wished that Logan would stand up to Randy, but that didn’t happen. In fact, right after Randy left, Logan followed as he mumbled some lame excuse.

  I was left wondering what the heck had happened when not even ten minutes ago, we had been talking about ruling the world with our dancing.

  Chapter 43

  School for the next few days was awful. Logan avoided me, and I avoided Mia. And you better believe that lunch is no fun when you’re not with your best friend. There’s no one to watch online videos with or wonder what our favorite lunch lady, Mrs. Wamelink, looks like without her hairnet. I sat with Elliana and a few of her friends, and while they were nice and all, it wasn’t the same.

  I finished my salad but was still hungry, so I got into the lunch line to grab an apple. Logan, Randy, and a few boys from the team ended up behind me.

  I smiled at Logan, and he nodded at me but then looked away. Something was going on, and I had a hunch that it had to do with Randy finding him in the studio yesterday.

  I wasn’t about to deal with them, but then Randy spoke up in that loud voice people use when they want to make sure that you can hear them, even if they’re talking to someone else.

  “Better lay off the cookies, Logan. You want to make sure you fit into those dance tights.”

  “I don’t wear tights,” Logan mumbled.

  “Tights, tutu, whatever, you need to be light on your toes,” Randy said and began to laugh as if he’d said the funniest thing in the world. Which, news flash, he hadn’t.

  I pretended I wasn’t listening, because I didn’t want to make things worse for Logan, but what Randy was saying was ridiculous and the rest of the team knew it. Anthony was the only other one who laughed; the rest of the boys didn’t seem to think Randy was funny, which made me feel a little better.

  “Hey, Brooklyn,” Randy said, dragging me into a conversation I most certainly did not want to be a part of. “What do you think? Shouldn’t Logan be in tip-top shape for all that twirling he’s doing?”

  “You’re being a jerk, and you know it,” I told him.

  “Brooklyn . . . ,” Logan said softly to get me to stop, but there was no way I was going to let Randy make a joke out of dancing. I was sick of them acting as if football was the be-all, end-all sport.

  “There’s nothing wrong with what Logan’s doing. He’s helping me out and getting some extra practice in while he’s at it.”

  “Practice? Is that what you call it? I didn’t know he’d be dancing around on his tippy toes on the football field,” Randy said.

  “He’s a better player than you’ll ever be,” I told them. “Maybe instead of making fun of other people for trying to improve themselves, you should spend that time on your own skills. Because I’ve been learning more and more about football lately, and from what I’ve seen with you boys, there’s still a lot of room for improvement.”

  I stepped out of the line and headed back to my seat.
I wasn’t hungry anymore, especially after the sour taste Randy had left in my mouth.

  Chapter 44

  I raced out of class at the end of the school day to find Logan. I needed to talk to him and told him as much when I spotted him walking down the front steps.

  “Hey, sorry about lunch,” I said. “I didn’t mean to start anything there. I just hate the way Randy always puts down ballet, even after all the time he’s spent at the studio.”

  Logan adjusted his book bag on his shoulders and walked a little faster, as if he didn’t want to be seen with me.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked as I tried to keep up with him.

  “Not really,” he said. “Randy’s been giving me a hard time nonstop since he discovered me at the studio with you. Most of the other guys are cool with it, but Randy is relentless and has pulled some of the other guys into it.

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “Randy talks like ballet is the worst thing ever, but every single boy on the team is playing better on the field because of the classes. Tanner even said that Coach Trentanelli was impressed with your improvement. It’s stupid. Why does it have to be one way or the other? Why is ballet such a bad thing? You know how hard we work. It’s as much a sport as anything else is.”

  “There’s more to it,” Logan mumbled.

  “What more could there be? Ballet is tough. Dancers are strong. And if you think it’s only for girls, then get over it. I’m pretty sure I’m as strong as some of those boys, and I’d love to see them dance in toe shoes and do fouetté turns. That way of thinking is plain stupid.”

  “I know,” he said. “But some of those guys don’t understand it the way I do.”

  “Then explain it to them. Help them see the work that goes into ballet. Just like you did with me and football.”