Pirouette

by Robyn Bavati

  “We’ll go over this again tomorrow,” Miss Sabto said, looking at Hannah. “The Dance Spectacular is just over three weeks away, and it has to be perfect. Our school’s reputation is on the line.”

  She called Hannah over when the lesson ended. “Is everything all right at home?”

  Hannah blushed and nodded.

  “Because if there’s anything you want to tell me, I—”

  “I’m fine,” Hannah interrupted quickly. “Everything’s fine.”

  Miss Sabto sighed. “All right, Simone. But just remember, I’m here if you need me.”

  During lunchtime, as Hannah and Jess passed the staff room, they overheard the teachers talking.

  “How’s the new girl coming along?” came the voice of the jazz teacher, Jenny Hill.

  “You mean Julie?” That was Miss Sabto. “Oh, she’s doing fine.”

  “They’re a lovely bunch, those Year Ten kids, aren’t they? And they’re wonderful dancers.”

  “They are,” said Miss Sabto, “though I have to say I’m a little worried about Simone. We went over the Bollywood dance today. She gave such a patchy performance.”

  “Well, you have time for a few more rehearsals, don’t you?”

  “That’s not the point. Don’t you think it’s a worry when the best dancer in the school suddenly has trouble remembering a dance she’s done a hundred times?”

  There was a strained silence in the staff room. Hannah froze outside the door.

  “And it’s not just that,” Miss Sabto continued. “Simone could do thirty-two perfect fouettés by the end of last year. The other day, she only managed eight.”

  Hannah was devastated. She felt Jess place a sympathetic hand on her arm.

  “Give her time,” said the jazz teacher. “They always come back from the holidays a little rusty.”

  “She’s more than a little rusty,” said Miss Sabto. “She seems to have … forgotten things she knew.”

  “Maybe her mind’s on some boy she met over the holidays and she’s a bit distracted.”

  “I don’t think that’s it,” came Miss Sabto’s voice. “It’s not that she isn’t concentrating—she’s actually trying very hard. She’s just not the same dancer … ”

  “Well, maybe she’s gone through a recent growth spurt. You know how that can throw them off.”

  “Could be,” said Miss Sabto. “Not that I’ve noticed she’s any taller … ”

  “Sometimes even small changes can make a difference—especially hormonal changes—and full-time dancers are often late developers.”

  “That’s true. I was one myself. Even so,” Miss Sabto added, “if she’s not back on track fairly soon, we’ll have to consider very carefully whether she should continue at this school, because once she enters Year Eleven—”

  “Yes, yes, I know the rule,” Jenny interrupted. “We can’t ask them to leave because we can’t disrupt their education at such a late stage. But if I know Simone, it won’t be a problem.”

  “I hope you’re right,” said Miss Sabto.

  Hannah flung herself onto the bench in the courtyard and buried her face in her hands. It was only when tears dampened her fingertips that she registered the fact that she was crying.

  It wasn’t fair. They expected so much of her, and all because … well, all because they thought she was Simone.

  What would Miss Sabto make of her dancing if she knew the truth? A part of her wished she could tell her … but then she’d have to leave the school before the deception went any further, and she’d never get the chance to earn her place at the VSD.

  Would she ever earn her place at this prestigious school?

  Though she hadn’t been there very long, Hannah was certain she wanted to stay. She loved everything about the VSD—from the grueling ballet training to the creative contemporary classes and the jazz and hip-hop, which were more like fun than work. She even liked the academic classes, which were smaller, friendlier, and less formal than those at Carmel College. Each morning she bounced into the studio at 8:05, and no matter how demanding her schedule, she still had a spring in her step at the end of the day. Brimming with enthusiasm, she’d firmly believed that confidence was all she needed. And she’d received so many compliments from the contemporary, jazz, and hip-hop teachers that it had seemed to be true.

  Now, Hannah realized with a sinking heart that confidence alone wouldn’t make her as good a dancer as Simone. She had to face the fact that she wasn’t as accomplished as her talented sister and perhaps never would be.

  Hannah blew her nose as Jess slid onto the bench beside her.

  “Here you are,” said Jess. “You ran off so quickly.”

  “Miss Sabto thinks I’m a terrible dancer.”

  “No, she just thinks your technique has regressed.”

  Hannah sniffed. “It isn’t fair. Julie can only do five fouettés and she didn’t do such a great job of the Bollywood dance either, but no one’s saying she should leave.”

  “That’s different,” said Jess. “She’s new here. She hasn’t had your kind of training. Besides, don’t you think you’re overreacting? No one said you have to leave.”

  “I might have to, though,” said Hannah, her lower lip beginning to tremble.

  “Trust me, you won’t.” Jess put her arm round Hannah’s shoulder. “You’ve got what every dancer wants—the perfect build. And you’re a wonderful dancer. The teachers know that.”

  “Miss Sabto doesn’t.”

  “She does. She called you ‘the best dancer in the school.’” Was it Hannah’s imagination, or was there a touch of envy in Jess’s tone? “And anyway, she’s just one teacher.”

  “Yeah,” said Hannah, “the one teacher who really matters. Oh, Jess, I can’t think of anything worse than being asked to leave.”

  A little while later, Jess went to return some books to the library. Hannah sat slumped on the bench, alone, looking down when anyone wandered past. Then suddenly Matt was sitting beside her, touching her shoulder.

  “Hey!” he said. “Jess told me about the conversation you overheard.”

  “Oh, great! So now the whole school knows what a rotten dancer I am.” Tears welled up in Hannah’s eyes and her vision blurred.

  Matt put his arm around her and drew her to him. “Not true,” he said. “I saw you were upset when you rushed out of the building, and I badgered Jess to tell me why. So you had a few off days,” he continued. “Everyone knows you’re brilliant.”

  Hannah sniveled into a tissue. “I’m not sure I am.”

  Matt took both her shoulders and turned her toward him. “Hey! You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have talent. And you wouldn’t have been given almost every class solo since you started Year Seven.”

  “Didn’t you see how I stuffed up this morning?”

  Matt began gently stroking her hair. “Maybe you’ve had a lot on your mind. Would it help if we went over the dance together?”

  “You … you’d do that for me?”

  “Sure,” said Matt. “I’ll ask Miss Sabto for the music.”

  “I already have it,” Hannah said.

  “Great. Then let’s meet after school in studio 4.”

  thirty-four

  With barely a glance in the mirror, Simone wound her hair into a bun with the speed and efficiency that came from years of practice. Apart from that first morning at Candance, it had been nearly two months since her last dance class. Though she hadn’t missed the taxing routine, it might be fun to dance just a few times a week.

  She checked the directions to Armadale Dance. It wouldn’t take her long to get there.

  “Do you want a lift?” Vanessa offered when Simone came downstairs, dressed in Hannah’s navy leotard and flesh-colored tights, a shoestring dress thrown over the top.

  “No, thanks. I’ll walk.”


  The class began at half-past four, and Simone arrived with twenty minutes to spare—enough time for a decent warm-up. Swarms of girls charged through the crowded corridors of the school, greeting and hugging friends they hadn’t seen all summer.

  Simone recognized some of the faces from Hannah’s photos; others she’d never seen before. Doing her best to imitate her sister’s warmth, she returned the hugs of total strangers and, attentive to their conversation, complimented one girl on her new hairstyle and told another how lovely her smile was now that she’d had her braces removed.

  “Hannah, you got your ears pierced. Did it hurt?”

  “A bit,” said Simone, a small smile playing around her lips as she remembered Hannah’s piercing shriek.

  It was strange to be back at the barre after such a long break, though in some ways it felt like she’d never left. Her years of training were so ingrained that when the teacher switched on the recorded music, her body knew just what to do.

  A quick glance around the studio was all Simone needed to see that the girls had been grouped together according to age rather than talent or ability, and the difference in standard was huge. It was also clear that Hannah was a better dancer than any of them.

  With her habitual focus and concentration, Simone worked her way through barre and center, only vaguely aware that while some girls were sneaking admiring glances in her direction, one or two looked like they wished they could tear out her hair.

  She wasn’t surprised. Every dance school had a few jealous,

  competitive girls, and she was used to ignoring them. And though she hadn’t intended stealing the limelight, she couldn’t avoid it—she was too good a dancer.

  Her technique was clearly stronger than Hannah’s, and though she didn’t want to arouse suspicion, she simply wasn’t capable of dancing badly.

  Luckily, Hannah had told her dance teachers that she’d be attending Candance, so a marked improvement wasn’t wholly unexpected.

  “You’ve made huge progress at that summer school,” Miss de Sylva said, watching Simone perform a series of pirouettes. “You must have worked hard.”

  thirty-five

  Hannah sat through French, the last period of the day, without taking in a word of the lesson. She was thinking about all that had happened since the morning, when she’d performed the Bollywood dance so poorly that she’d made Miss Sabto wonder whether she should even remain at the school.

  The teacher’s words had come as a shock, and Hannah had begun to doubt her ability. Yet somehow, Matt had restored her self-belief with his offer to help with the dance. It had to be perfect by the time Miss Sabto saw it again. No way would Hannah leave the school before having a chance to prove she belonged. She’d just have to work harder.

  But as she copied French verbs from the Smart Board, she squirmed. Even though Matt had been nothing but kind and supportive, he’d seen her at her most vulnerable; it would be so humiliating to face him again.

  God, he was gorgeous! That luscious sandy hair! Those incredible blue-gray eyes! She blushed as she recalled the way he’d run his fingers through her hair, and her body hummed at the memory.

  The bell rang and the lesson ended. Hannah tossed her French books into her bag and made her way to Studio 4.

  Picking up choreography had always been one of Hannah’s strengths, and now that she had Matt to teach her, she had no trouble mastering the intricate dance. She was feeling more confident by the minute, and knew she would perform it well at the next rehearsal.

  After running through the dance three times in a row, the two of them collapsed on the studio floor, breathless and panting.

  “Thanks for doing this,” Hannah said when she was able to speak.

  Matt grinned. “Don’t think my motives are entirely selfless. I’d hate to see you leave the VSD. Especially now you’ve dropped your ice-maiden act.”

  Ice maiden? How could Simone be so misunderstood?

  “At least you know it was an act,” said Hannah, suddenly wanting to defend her twin. She remembered what Simone had said about her constant exhaustion, her performance anxiety, the terrible stage fright, and how she’d come to loathe the VSD. Of course Simone had seemed antisocial. And given that she’d had the best roles in almost every performance, it was easy to see why her classmates might have thought her a bit standoffish.

  Hannah murmured under her breath, “She was just shy.”

  “She?” asked Matt.

  “I … I think of who I was then,” Hannah said quickly, “almost as if I were a different person. I used to be shy. But in the summer, somehow I came out of my shell.”

  “I’m glad you did,” said Matt, standing up and pulling Hannah to her feet. “Hey, let’s go over the stuff we learned in pas-de-deux. Got your pointe shoes?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  They took up a position in the center of the studio, and Matt stood behind her as she rose onto pointe, lifted one leg into a développé, then pivoted into an arabesque. He supported her through an arabesque penchée as she lifted her leg higher still, her head tilting down toward the floor, then sliding back up. Releasing one hand and placing it securely beneath her thigh, he lifted her, and before Hannah knew it, he was carrying her across the studio floor.

  Light, ethereal, beautiful—she couldn’t have said exactly how she felt. She could see why Matt was such a popular partner. His touch was gentle but firm, and though she brimmed with a sense of excitement and daring, she still felt safe and natural in his arms.

  He brought her back down and into a double pirouette, his hands resting gently on her waist as she completed the turn. Then she jumped, dartlike, into the air, and he spun her so that she turned to face him, looking down from above as he looked up at her.

  With Hannah’s torso secure in his hands, he drew her slowly down toward him until she was standing on one pointed foot, the other curled behind her ankle. Their heads were almost level now …

  Time stood still as they held their positions.

  And somehow he bridged the distance between them, and kissed her.

  She kissed him back. And she would have fallen if it weren’t for his strong arms holding her up.

  The school was deserted by the time they left. They walked to the tram stop hand in hand, jostling and bumping each other along the way. Hannah’s tram came first, and when she climbed on board, Matt watched her until the tram receded and she was no longer in his line of vision.

  In North Fitzroy, she got off the tram in a happy daze. Streets that had once seemed cold and drab looked warm and inviting. It was hard to believe that just a few hours earlier she’d felt so low. Now her veins were fizzing with adrenaline and a renewed determination to claim her place at the VSD.

  She surprised herself by hugging Harriet. Going to confession had helped to ease the tension between them, as Simone had predicted. Since then, Hannah had been making an effort to be tidy, and Harriet was a little less critical and more relaxed.

  “Good day?” asked Harriet.

  “The best,” said Hannah, picking up the phone to call Julie, who answered on the second ring.

  “Julie? I’m sorry I did such a lousy job of teaching you the Bollywood dance. But I’ve gone over it again, and I remember it now.”

  They arranged to meet the following morning an hour before warm-up. Then Hannah went back to dreaming of Matt.

  thirty-six

  “You said you’d go bike riding with me,” Adam accused.

  “No, I said maybe.” Simone felt a stab of guilt when she saw his disappointment, but she was meeting up with Tom today and she had to get going. “Sorry, Adam. I already have plans.”

  “You always have plans.”

  Simone let out a frustrated sigh. Dani had called that morning to invite her over for the second time, and she’d ranted a bit when Simone turned her down. Now it was Adam giving her
grief.

  “Sorry,” she repeated, a hint of annoyance in her voice. It wasn’t her fault Adam was at loose ends. “We’ll hang out together some other time.”

  Vanessa’s car pulled into the drive as Simone was leaving.

  “Hannah, where are you off to?”

  “I’m meeting a friend.”

  “Which friend?” asked Vanessa lightly.

  “Someone I met at Candance,” said Simone.

  “Lovely,” said Vanessa. “Have a nice time.”

  Tom waved to her as soon as he saw her. “Simone! Over here!”

  Once again, it was a relief to be able to answer to the name “Simone.” Being Hannah had its rewards, but it was also stressful. At least with Tom, Simone felt able to be herself. And after disappointing both Dani and Adam, it was good to finally be with someone she didn’t feel she was letting down.

  Her heart rate quickened as she hurried toward him. Though she could count the hours they’d spent together, in some ways it felt like she’d known Tom forever. He was both enigmatic and familiar—would she always feel a little lightheaded at the sight of that rakish mop of near-black hair, that intelligent face, and those deep, dark eyes?

  He greeted her with a quick kiss, then slung his arm around her shoulder. Simone slid hers around his waist and they turned as one toward the beach, inhaling the salty sea air carried by a gentle breeze.

  They walked happily and quietly along the shore, the shallow water erasing their footprints even before they were fully formed.

  Tom was the first to break the silence. “I like seeing you like this,” he said.

  “Like what?” Simone asked.

  “Relaxed and happy. Hey, I hope I haven’t jinxed your mood. As soon as I said that, you tensed right up. What is it, Simone?”

  “Nothing,” she said, with a quick shake of her head. “It’s just … ”

  “What?”

  Simone swallowed. “I don’t want to pretend with you,” she said carefully.