I pulled my light coat around me tighter in the cool, fall breeze that brushed past my face. Smells from the pastry shop next door wafted out, filling the air with the scent of cinnamon and other spices. The people around us were either enjoying their morning at the shop or hurrying on their way to work or wherever else they had to go. Every few minutes I would hear the clacking of a subway train racing by us under the street, almost masked by the sound of taxis honking and people yelling, trying to hail one to stop. Smiling to myself as I took another sip, I reveled in the simple beauty of a New York City morning.
Shortly after, we gathered our things and headed for the morning’s first class—contemporary—that was held a few blocks away at the public studio owned by the company. Aside from the professional dancers and trainees that were considered a permanent part of UD, the studio held dance classes for those who wanted to move just for recreation. It was a wildly successful business venture, as many people loved to boast that they studied with the stars of UD.
We walked to our destination, noticing that there seemed to be an unusually large amount of students with us that morning. I recognized the regulars from class, but there were groups of others moving together, whispering excitedly to each other about something. Some of them didn’t even look like they were students at all, but people from the general public.
“Do you know what that’s about?” I asked Meg.
“Not a clue.” She shrugged, continuing to check her phone without even looking up to see what I was talking about.
As we reached the studio, everyone along the sidewalk slowed outside it, as the mass tried to move inside.
“Great,” one of our classmates, Steve, mumbled as we all shuffled through the door. His short, black hair swept away from his features, highlighting his annoyed expression, which looked even more irritated when combined with the reflection from the red jacket he was wearing.
“What is it?” I asked, wondering what had made him so glum when he was usually so happy.
“I’m willing to bet that all of those people heard Colt Erickson was coming to our class today. We’ll be lucky if we get anything done with all of them there.”
“Whaaaat?” Meg shrieked, grabbing his shoulder in excitement. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” he said, obviously taken aback and confused by her reaction. “I heard him talking about it with Mr. Lucky after the master class yesterday.”
“Ohmigosh!” She squealed, doing an excited little dance as she stepped into our normal classroom, causing several people to stare at her.
Steve and I shared a look of mutual humor before grabbing her by the arms and towing her along with us, across the space to the back corner.
Sure enough, there was a crowd of people in the observation area, most of them holding pens and paper or filming on their phones. In the middle of it all, his back pressed up against the wall, was the man responsible for the uprooting of my normal schedule—Colt Erickson.
He was wearing his famous leather jacket, jeans, and shades combo, his light brown hair gelled to perfection as if he’d just come from smiling in front of a camera. Each thing that was handed to him got signed and every lens pointed his way was awarded a sparkling smile.
“What is he even doing?” I asked as I sat down and started stretching.
“Didn’t I tell you last night?” Meg smacked her forehead and laughed. “I forgot! Colt was cast in that new movie everyone’s been talking about, the one with the vampires. He’s taking a break from the company starting next month, so he can film. Everyone has been talking about it—he’s a big Hollywood star now!”
“Well then,” I said with mock awe. “How wonderful for him to interrupt our class with his autograph signing and picture taking. You’d think people had never seen a man with an entire can of hairspray on his head before.”
“Be nice,” Meg scolded me, slapping my shoulder playfully, but grinning all the same. “I think he’s going to do great. I read the book the movie is based on. He fits my image of the main guy perfectly.”
“Let’s hope the fame doesn’t go to his head and he can still dance afterward,” Steve whispered, causing giggles to burst out between us.
“Scarlet, Meg, Steve.” Mr. Lucky, a short, thin, and balding older man, greeted us as he came over to our corner. “Sorry about the commotion. Colt seems to be somewhat of a hot commodity.”
“It’s fine,” Meg offered warmly.
“We’re going to get started here in a few minutes, so make sure you’ve stretched really well. How’s the ankle Scarlet? Good? Make sure you don’t push yourself too hard today. I’ve noticed that it’s starting to buckle under some of your turns. You want to watch that carefully.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, my cheeks burning.
“We’ll clear out the observation room before we start as well,” he concluded.
“Thank you,” we all said in unison, relaxing some as he moved away.
Eventually, all of the students made it inside and the space filled with the sound of dancers prepping to rehearse. Professor Lucky made his way around the room, watching everyone work and giving opinions and thoughts when he felt it was needed. However, our resident movie star never showed. Eventually the music started and we got going without him. When the period was up, the crowd had disappeared outside, and Colt Erickson was nowhere to be found.
“Maybe he decided he was making too much a fuss and left so we could work,” Steve suggested.
“That’s too bad,” Meg said with a frown. “I was looking forward to hearing what he had to say about my dance.”
“Eh, Lucky’s as good at critiquing as some movie star. If he likes it, I say you’re golden.”
He stepped out onto the sidewalk and looked around, nodding to another classmate—Danny, a tall, friendly guy from Texas—as he joined us.
“Do you guys want to go down to the Square with me and get some pizza?” Danny asked.
“Sure,” I said, grinning. “I’ve got time.”
Meg and Steve agreed as well, and within a few minutes we were waiting in line at one of the many places to get pizza in Times Square. Thanks to quick service, we were all soon seated outside, visiting about miniscule things as we ate.
“Hey, check it out.” Danny pointed to one of the large video screens hanging across from us, down the street a little way.
The panel was showing a live feed of everyone in the Square while someone added thought bubbles to the people within the camera’s sight.
“You wanna dance, Scarlet?” he questioned, a mischievous grin on his face.
“Sure,” I answered, blushing slightly at the rush of butterflies I felt. I’d been developing a crush on Danny since orientation, but knew neither of us had any time to get caught up in a romance now. Other girls looked at him like he was a piece of meat, which wasn’t surprising given his well-muscled appearance and handsome face. He would make an excellent partner in more than just dance.
Reaching over and grabbing my hand, he pulled me from my chair and down the street after him as I laughed freely. Once we were in the shot, he took my other hand and started twirling me around ballroom style. We shouted in glee, until I felt the familiar pop in my ankle, warning me that I was going too far.
“Ouch!” I gasped, stumbling and stopping immediately.
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
“No, my ankle’s a little sore. That’s all,” I said, trying to turn my grimace into a grin as I looked at him. “I tweaked it a little in ballet.”
“I’m sorry.” Danny was still holding onto me, making sure I was good to stand on my own. “What happened?”
“I over practiced, I guess.”
“Are you okay, Scar?” Meg called, running over to join us, Steve right behind her.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, chuckling slightly.
“I told you this would happen,” she sighed, looking at me in frustration.
“I’m fine,” I repeated, a little more forcefully
than I intended.
“Fine,” she snapped back, obviously hurt that I wasn’t taking her seriously.
“So . . .” Steve stood awkwardly among us, looking at the watch on his wrist. “Jazz class is in thirty minutes. Are we ready to head back?”
“Yeah.” Stepping away from Danny, I made sure to not wince or limp. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Three
“Scarlet, point your toes and straighten your chest! You look like you’re trying to land a plane, not dance across a stage.”
Miss Gini sighed in frustration as I did my best to follow her instructions, only to fail miserably. Like always.
“Really, Scarlet,” she said exasperatedly. “How do you expect to master this move if you haven’t yet conquered the simpler ones from the last few weeks?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Gini,” I said, trying to ignore the throbbing in my ankle. “I really am trying.”
“I don’t know what to do.” She sighed, throwing her hands up in surrender. “It seems you are not progressing at all. Do you practice?”
“I’ve practiced more than you can imagine,” I replied softly, fighting the tears that were forming as my classmates snickered around me.
“You’ll have to do more then.” Turning away and returning to her seat on the other side of the room, she rubbed her hand over the black fabric of her long skirt as she crossed her legs. “If you don’t catch up soon I’m going to have to recommend you move back a class.”
“That will keep me from being able to audition for the company, maybe even send me home,” I stammered, trying to keep the panic in my voice at a minimum.
“I know.” Her tone was serious, concern in her eyes.
“I’ll try harder,” I whispered, my voice having jumped a few octaves. “I promise.”
“Let’s continue,” she said, waving her hand as she turned her gaze from me.
The music began again and my fellow students filled in around me to perform the combination again. With each step I took, I bit my lip harder, trying to stave off the tears of pain and public humiliation. By the end of the combo, I could taste blood in my mouth.
“I believe that will be all for today.” Miss Gini flipped her long, black braid back over her shoulder as she stood. “Scarlet, a word please?”
I sighed, not wanting to speak with the matronly woman at the moment, but walked to her side all the same.
“I’m very concerned, Ms. Redford. You have such talent in other areas, but several of your teachers are telling me you’re starting to have problems in your other dance classes. Is there something I should know about?”
“I’m working as hard as I can, I swear,” I said mournfully. “I have no idea why this isn’t clicking. I promise, though, I will get it. You won’t have to send me home.”
“I truly hope so, but if you can’t get it together enough to pass the final performance with flying colors, I’m going to have to recommend you move on to another company.”
“But, I’m working as hard as I can!”
A single tear slid down my cheek and I brushed it away quickly, upset that my emotions were being ruffled so terribly today.
“It’s not fair.” She was apologetic, like that would help me feel better. “But I can’t pass you on just work ethic if you’re not ready for a professional environment.”
“So, I need to be perfect in the final performance?” I asked, looking for some hope somewhere.
“It would help a lot if I could see some improvement in class as well,” she added. “I know you’ve been working hard, but it isn’t enough yet.”
Nodding, I chose to remain silent as I mulled over her words.
“I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” she added, when I didn’t speak anymore, clearly dismissing me.
“Thank you,” I answered tightly.
Leaving the room as quickly as I could without running, not even bothering to change out of my pointe shoes and practice tutu, I made my way for the bathroom down the hall, wanting to shut myself away and be alone for a few moments to gather my thoughts.
Once locked in the stall, I ripped my dance things off, shoving them into my bag angrily as I relived the horror of today’s class several times. I’d never been so humiliated to be called out on something in front of a group of other people. Sinking down to the floor, I rested my back and head on the cool tile as I tried to calm down.
“You can do this,” I coached myself softly. “You can pass. No, you can excel at this! Don’t give up. Don’t let one bad day ruin the rest. You’ve worked too hard. You deserve to be recognized for all your extra practice, not scolded because it wasn’t good enough. Now, get up and walk out of here with your head held high. What happened today didn’t bring you down, it only provided more motivation.”
Taking a couple of deep breaths, I stood, confident I could at least get through the rest of the day without having a breakdown. Leaving the bathroom, I checked the time on my phone and headed straight for the practice rooms.
The sweat dripped off my body like a waterfall crashing over the edge of the Grand Canyon, splashing onto the floor and leaving little puddles for me to dance through again and again. My ankle was screaming for relief under my leg warmers, begging me to sit down, even if it was only for a second. I’d already stopped to tape the toes of my shoes, though, and there wasn’t any time to rest between all of the sets that needed to be taken care of. The company director had stopped by an hour ago, telling me if I hadn’t left by now, he was going to lock me in and I would be responsible for making sure everything got shut up tight when I left. I didn’t mind—if I could stay and practice I would.
Restarting the music, I took my opening place in the corner closest to the door and began once again.
Up onto pointe. Three steps forward, I thought.
Miss Gini’s face swam in front of my eyes. She looked like she was staring at something that disgusted her, her dark eyes burning into mine. You’re going to fail, she sneered.
Tendu; brush the right toe across the ground and follow with a small scissor kick.
The music rang in my ears, sounding like the laughter of my peers as they watched me struggle, only a few willing to help. It was a cutthroat business—many would be happy to see me go, their own dreams of joining the company getting that much closer to fulfillment. There would be no place for me in United Dance Corps.
A small turn, come off pointe, hop right back on.
Dad’s face appeared in my mind, shining with excitement and hope. Make me proud, Scarlet.
Spinning, my head seemed to follow along with the motion, everything blurring before me.
In my mind, Miss Gini throws her hands up in the air like she’s given up. I can’t recommend you, I’m sorry.
Flat feet, a few quick steps.
Rain falls on my mother’s casket, my little ten year old heart breaking. She would have known what to say to me right now. Instead, all I had were the couple of years she’d encouraged me to follow my dreams. I believe in you Scarlet, her quiet voice whispers.
Back on pointe. Spin, spin, spin.
Memories wash through my mind of the last time I fell in class, my ankle cracking under me, pain shooting through my leg as a group of uncaring people gathered around. Again, I’m reminded it’s a dog eat dog world here.
Honestly Ms. Redford, have you even practiced?
Remember the arms, I coached myself, trying to push the voices away. Lifting my limbs, I extended them over my head, quickly checking the mirror, and adjusting them slightly.
Shrieking at me in protest, my ankle wobbled somewhat. If I pushed it much further I was going to end up in a cast.
Keep twirling.
Everything was too much. The tears I’d fought off earlier in the day were cascading down my face as my memories and fears danced right through my mind.
The turns were catching up with me, my head whirling as I crossed the room. All in one second, my shoe broke out from under me, my ankle popping ferociously as I f
ell to the floor again.
In time, the music shut off and only the sound of my sobbing echoed through the space. Once I’d fallen, I didn’t want to move. It was probably a good thing I was the only one in the building. No one would be around to see me in this mess.
More time passed before I finally felt good enough to sit up. Releasing my bun and letting the hair cascade down onto my shoulders, I glanced into the mirror, my reflection looking as pitiful as I felt, worn and tear stained. Ever so gingerly, I slid my leg warmer off and tried to stretch out the injured ankle. It wasn’t broken, but it would have been hurt worse if the shoe hadn’t collapsed out from under me.
Continuing to cry, silently this time, I rested my head on my knees. If only I could have gotten it right. But what Miss Gini had said was true—there was no way I was going to pass. Everything I’d worked for had been for nothing.
Studying my reflection again, I wondered how I managed to dupe myself into thinking I could thrive in this field. I’d always had trouble with ballet, though some moves came easier than others. It didn’t mean I hadn’t studied up on technique or tried hard enough, it just didn’t click from thought to reality.
Sighing, I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, when a shadow in the mirror caught my attention. As soon as I moved to see who or what it was, though, it vanished, the sound of footsteps echoing down the hall.
“Hello?” I called, struggling to my feet.
There was no one in sight when I reached the doorway, limping from the strain I’d put on my injury.
“Hello?” I called again.
No answer.
“That was weird,” I mumbled to myself, placing a hand on the doorjamb as I turned around, trying to spare my ankle the best I could. Immediately, my eyes landed on a piece of paper that had been stuck to the wall.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, my heart rate increasing as I tried to shake the jitters off. Paper crinkling under my fingers, I pulled it from the wall, careful not to rip it as I removed the tape that had been holding it. Examining it closer, I noticed a small, hand drawn rose on one side. I ran my fingers over the sheet, wondering who on earth had left it and why. Turning it over, I sucked in a breath, immediately glancing back to the hall as if the perpetrator would have somehow reappeared. However, no one was in sight. Looking back down at the message, I felt a strange tingling in my hands as I read it again:
Watching Over Me: A Dreams Novel Page 2
