Face to Face (On Pointe Book 3)

by Penelope Freed

Hannah fills Olivia in a bit, but I can tell they have news to share. After a minute I interrupt Hannah’s description of all the classes they’re taking to ask, “Do you have news? Wasn’t the casting for the end of intensive performance going up today?” At least, that’s what Lisa told me last night when I wrestled Hunter’s phone away from him long enough to say hi to her.

  Hannah’s squeal is loud enough to have everyone around us in the food court looking our way. Turning the volume down on my phone with an apologetic look, I try to focus on what Hannah is saying.

  “We’re doing excerpts from Swan Lake for the performance and Lisa is doing Cygnets!” Hannah says quickly, talking over whatever it was Lisa was trying to say.

  Lisa pulls the phone away from Hannah’s smug face. “And Hannah is doing the Black Swan pas de deux with Noah!”

  “What?” This time my yell is the one drawing eyes and disapproving glares from the people around us. “That’s amazing! Both of you! Cygnets? That’s so freaking cool. Dude, Black Swan pas? That’s epic, Hannah.”

  Olivia manages to pull the phone away from me, dragging me out of line and around the corner by the elbow. She talks over my shoulder as we walk. “Cygnets is amazing Lisa. I hope you can do it better than when we tried.” That has all four of us laughing, remembering the summer we convinced Ms. Parker to teach it to us, the famous Dance of the Four Little Swans. For starters, it’s an exhausting dance, all that jumping while holding hands with three other people is hard, and with all the super precise head and footwork, if one person gets off it not only messes everyone else up, but means you end up turning your head to look straight into the eyes of the person next to you and in our case, that meant instant giggles. I don’t remember if we ever got all the way through it without someone screwing it up.

  “You have to promise me something Hannah.” I smirk. “Don’t pull a Natalie Portman, okay? No going crazy with the Black Swan business.”

  “Or making out with Mila Kunis!” Olivia yells from behind me.

  “I dunno.” I fake a thoughtful expression. “Mila Kunis is pretty hot…”

  Once she stops laughing, Hannah promises not to pick imaginary feathers out of her skin or stab herself with a broken mirror. “We both got cast in a contemporary piece as well,” Hannah says. “They picked four Seven’s and four Eight’s to be in it. We don’t know who’s choreographing it yet, the casting sheet didn’t say.”

  “Tell us about you guys though, how’s dance? How’s Ms. Parker? Any of the younger girls get moved up into our class? Has Katy finally shown up for class?”

  I know Hannah is teasing, but her words set my teeth grinding. I don’t need her reminding me that I’ve been skipping class. Olivia takes the phone from me so she can answer. “Anne, Jaime, and Grace all got moved up into the senior class, you know they’re all freshman this year, right?” I let Olivia keep talking, filling Hannah and Lisa in on the gossip.

  I could use the excuse of the online driver’s ed class I’ve been taking, and the three weeks I was out of town with my family, but really, I don’t have an excuse other than I haven’t wanted to go. Plain and simple, when given the choice of going or staying home I’ve chosen to stay home every single time. And now, I definitely do not want to think about what that might mean other than I needed a break. I’m not ready to think about whether this means I can still call myself a dancer. I know JJ gave me a hard time about it, but it’s true, Hannah and Lisa are the ‘real dancers’ in our little squad. Olivia and I do it for fun, no big goals for us.

  “Bye!” Hannah and Lisa’s voices call out from my phone.

  Scrambling to catch them, I stick my nose over Olivia’s shoulder. “Bye!” I take my phone back and stuff it in my back pocket. “I didn’t know those girls had moved up.”

  “Yeah, Ms. Parker had them join in for the summer. They’re alright, I guess. Kinda giggly and young, but we already knew that from rehearsals.” Olivia shrugs. I’m waiting for her to point out that I’ve been missing class, but she keeps walking towards one of the smaller clothing boutiques.

  “Is Ms. Parker mad that I’m not there?” I finally blurt out, unable to keep the question inside any longer.

  “I don’t think so. She asked if I’d seen you the other day, but…” Olivia trails off. “I miss you in class though, the other senior girls aren’t as much fun. You should come tomorrow.” I hadn’t thought about Olivia missing me in class, things got so weird between us when I thought she’d hurt Hunter’s feelings last year that I’d kind of written off our friendship.

  “I’ll try.” I do miss it, even if I’m having fun doing other things as well. But it’s hard without Hannah and Lisa there. “Will you give me a ride?”

  “Of course I will, then I can guarantee I won’t have to share a barre with Jackie. She’s a barre hog and she keeps taking Hannah’s spot. It irks me.” Laughing, we pull open the door to the boutique and start flipping through racks of clothes.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hannah

  My jaw aches from clenching my teeth, but I’m not going to let the sharp pains shooting up my ankle stop me from nailing this step. Noah and I have been struggling with this lift all evening.

  Gripping his right wrist with my right hand, I’m supposed to step into a jump, brushing my left leg forward before flipping my body in the air to face him, holding my leg up as he eases me down, defying gravity like the bird I’m playing. The problem is that I’m taking off for the jump on my right foot, and every time I try to jump, shooting pain sears up my leg and I lose power. As much as Noah is trying to help me by bracing the wrists we’re holding and using his other hand against my hip to push me higher, I can’t seem to get high enough in the air.

  “I think is enough for today, we try again tomorrow.” Mr. Popov claps his hands before I can try again. Noah steps back from me, shaking out his arms. We gather up our things and head to the dining hall to join our friends. I walk slowly and deliberately, my ankle angry with each step.

  “Is there something wrong? I can feel you twitch every time you take off,” Noah asks as he holds the door open for me to duck through. We wave to our group, before going to pick up our own dinner and join them.

  “No, I’m fine. Just tired.” I lie. Ignoring Noah in the hopes he’ll drop the subject, I eye the pasta and chicken on offer for dinner tonight. A body bumping into my back knocks the cutlery on my tray to the floor. “What the…” I whirl to see a pack of Six’s retreating, Becky’s waifish body in the middle. She looks back over her shoulder at Noah and I, eyeing us speculatively.

  “Hope your partner can lift you after eating all those carbs,” Becky says with a plastic smile. “Wouldn’t want to injure him.” Laughing, she leads the group of giggling girls away.

  No longer eager for the pasta on offer, I turn to grab a salad instead, almost bumping into Noah as he reaches for the serving spoon I dropped. “Don’t let those bitches get to you. They’re jealous.”

  “Easy for you to say, they didn’t call you fat,” I murmur. I’ve never worried about my weight before, trusting my natural thinness and the hours I spend dancing to keep me in shape. As long as I could see the defined muscles of my thighs in class, I didn’t worry. Ms. Parker doesn’t ever comment or judge us on our bodies. I hadn’t realized how different that was until I got here and suddenly everyone talks about it. Besides, the conditioning class they have us doing three times a week has had me feeling more toned than ever, not to mention the eight or nine hours of dancing a day. My stomach growls.

  “Just eat the pasta Hannah. I don’t want my partner passing out on me.” With a wink and a laugh Noah walks away, leaving me to debate between satisfying my hunger and easing the anxious voice in my head telling me to eat the salad instead.

  “Hey,” Trevor says in my ear, sliding his arms around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. “You should have the pasta, it’s pretty good. Also, I’m still
hungry so I’ll finish anything you don’t eat.” I relax against him for a second, giggling when he presses a quick kiss to my cheek. This is what I’ll be missing when I go home, the little things, the tiny moments. “How was rehearsal?” Trevor reaches past me to scoop up a pile of pasta and veggies onto a plate.

  As usual, Trevor’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, smelling like soap and mint. More than once over the last few weeks I’ve regretted that he only sees me after I’ve come straight from class or rehearsal, with shorts and t-shirts thrown on over my leotard and tights, my hair in a bun, still sweaty and stinky. The only time Trevor has seen me in “normal” clothes has been on our weekend excursions.

  “It was fine. We’re having a hard time with one of the lifts though, that’s why we were so late finishing.” I skirt the truth—that my ankle is throbbing and that’s why we were struggling.

  “Anything I can help with?” Can he invent invisible ice?

  “Probably not. I think I’m just tired and sore.” It’s not a complete lie, only a minor rearranging of the facts. Trevor takes the tray from me, leading the way to the table where our group is sitting. Noah and I are the only ones who haven’t eaten yet, our rehearsals running longer and longer this week.

  “So,” Gloria says the moment I sit. “How’s Black Swan? Is it as much fun to do as it looks? I’ve always wanted to do that one.”

  “It’s so much fun,” I say, swallowing the bite of pasta in my mouth. Okay, Trevor was right, it’s pretty good. “That big, dramatic backbend right as the music changes is my favorite part. It’s just so over the top.” I laugh.

  The other girls laugh with me. “Yes! I know exactly which part you mean.” Gloria demonstrates her own dramatic drop into a backbend, throwing her arms and head over the back of her chair. The chair tips back and she yelps as Uri scrambles to catch the chair and Gloria before they fall backwards.

  “Watch it!” A chorus of voices exclaim from behind her. Our table’s laughter at Gloria’s near miss chokes off at the sight of a table full of girls all looking down their noses at us. By their perfectly made-up faces and curled hair, it’s clear they’re not from our intensive. They eye our table with barely concealed sneers. I shrink down in my chair, chewing my dinner and avoiding eye contact with them.

  “Sorry,” Gloria says, straightening up. She leans a little closer to Uri, letting his arm over her shoulder shield her from view. The brash and confident Gloria I’ve come to know over the last few weeks dissolves in front of my eyes under the scrutiny of the table full of girls. I wince in sympathy, I guess it doesn’t matter where you’re from or how good you are, being a serious ballet dancer automatically makes you uncool to the wider world.

  Flashbacks of my confrontation with the cheer girls at school sends my shoulders up around my ears. Lisa slinks down in her chair next to me, eyes down on the table. When she and Hunter started dating, more than one girl at school had it out for her for daring to take one of the school’s hottest guys off the market. It was ugly.

  “Trevor?” One of the girls asks. “What are you doing over there?” And there it is.

  Trevor spears a piece of chicken off my plate, leaning closer than necessary to do it. Deliberately, he bumps his shoulder against mine. Startled, I look up to find him grinning at me. With a wink, he pops the fork in his mouth, then puts an arm around my shoulder while he chews, ignoring the girl’s question. Only once he swallows does he look at them and answer. “Having dinner with my girlfriend.”

  Several of the girls at the other table narrow their eyes, assessing me. I want to shrink even lower in my chair, but the weight of Trevor’s arm resting on my shoulder stops me. What would Katy do? What would Olivia do right now? Instead of disappearing into the floor, I sit up straighter and stare right back.

  “Your girlfriend?” The pretty brunette who said it is staring at our table. “Or do you mean your boyfriend?” She titters along with the other girls at the table. The second her words register, Noah, Thomas, Uri, and Trevor are on their feet, glaring at the table, us girls a half second behind.

  “Did you just…?”

  “I’m sorry what?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What the fuck did you say?”

  “Seriously?”

  “What the hell?”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “You did not just say what I think you said.”

  We all yell at once, outrage and anger competing with shock at her words. Even some of the other girls at her table are looking at her, shock, and disgust on their faces. The brunette puffs up, opening her mouth to speak but Trevor interrupts her.

  “You want to take that back? Because I think you just called my girl a dude and then insinuated that if I was gay I should be ashamed of it?” Trevor’s voice drops as he leans his hands on the table, staring her down. “For starters, my girl here is a thousand times more beautiful than you without even having to try. And secondly, if you think that calling someone gay is an acceptable insult, or that they should be ashamed of it, you are dead wrong.”

  Trevor takes my tray, walking away. We’ve only gone a few steps when a combination of cheering and shrieking stops us in our tracks. I pull on Trevor’s arm, stopping him so we can see what’s causing the commotion. Noah is gripping Thomas by the shoulders, kissing him soundly on the lips. Half of the girls table is cheering, the pretty brunette and her tittering friends the ones shrieking in disgust. Lips still locked, Thomas and Noah flip middle fingers to the table of rude girls, earning them another cheer, plus more cheers from around the entire dining room, before taking a theatrical bow and following the rest of us out the door.

  “You didn’t have to do that man, we’re kind of used to it.” Thomas says after we’ve returned our trays in silence and gone outside. It seemed like an unspoken agreement that we all needed some fresh air after the ugliness inside. “We know how to handle idiots like that,” he adds, shrugging.

  Gloria rests a hand on her twin’s shoulder. “Just because you’re used to it, doesn’t make it okay. Besides, I’m pretty sure you made your point,” she adds with a laugh. “It’s such a lazy insult anyway. If you’re going to insult someone, at least have the decency to be creative!” Her joke breaks the tension and has us all laughing as we settle around the outdoor space beside the dorm building. She’s sitting on Uri’s lap on a bench, Lisa, and Elena on a bench opposite them. Thomas and Noah are pacing up and down the narrow space, while Trevor is on the ground, leaning back against one of the giant concrete planters. He pulls me to sit between his knees, my back resting against his chest.

  “Call me a hobo, point out my biscuits, or that we can’t dance like normal people all day long and I’ll laugh with you. But seriously, she went straight for the gay? I’m disappointed,” Noah says. “Pun one hundred percent intended,” he adds with a wink. He stops walking with a jerk, pointing at Thomas. “Dude, you know that was just to prove a point, right?”

  Thomas laughs, and points right back. “Yeah dude, I know. You’re not my type, I like them tall, blonde and handsome.”

  “Biscuits?” Trevor asks in my ear, as Thomas and Noah get into a good-natured tussle over Thomas’ comment.

  “Bad feet. Bananas are good, biscuits are bad.” Stretching my legs out in front of me, I toe off my flip flops to illustrate by pointing and flexing my feet.

  “Hannah’s bananas are to die for,” Lisa points out, helpfully. “I’ve been offering to trade feet with her for years.”

  Laughing, I keep pointing and flexing, until a familiar sharp pain catches me off-guard. I can’t control the hiss of pain it triggers or the way my fingers dig into Trevor’s arm wrapped around my waist.

  “What was that?” Trevor asks, concerned. “Are you okay?”

  Angry at myself for being stupid and giving it away, I shrug. “I’m fine, a little sore from rehearsal.” Glancing up, Lisa i
s eyeing me across the space, half-listening to whatever Elena is saying. She raises an eyebrow at me and tips her head to the side, a question clear in her eyes.

  “So, what’s really going on?” Lisa asks as soon as we’re alone in our room. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing. I saw you wince.” I open my mouth to protest but Lisa cuts me off. “You were wincing when we went shopping with Olivia, and I saw you limping on our hike weeks ago. I’m not stupid, Hannah.”

  “It’s just a little sore.” I shrug, maybe if I keep pretending it’s nothing it will go away. Manifesting and all that jazz.

  “Is it your ankle? Your foot?” Lisa doesn’t let it go. Knowing she’s going to keep at me until I spill, I might as well get it over with.

  “It’s my ankle. It started hurting during dress rehearsal. I was trying to rest it over the break and it was fine. Maybe a little twinge now and then. A smidge achy at the end of the day, but it’s not a big deal.” When Lisa doesn’t speak, I fill the silence, adding in a quiet voice. “This week has been worse, though.”

  “Hannah! Why didn’t you tell Ms. Parker? Or at least Mr. Mike?” Lisa starts rummaging around in her drawer, hunting for something.

  “What if they told me not to come?” I explain. “It was okay until now. Mostly.”

  Lisa pulls a tube of cream out of her drawer and brings it over to sit next to me on the bed. “I get it. It was still dumb, but I get it. Here, rub this on, I’ll be right back.” She hands me the tube before heading to the door. Turning it over in my hand, I can’t read any of the Japanese characters covering it.

  “What is this? Where are you going?” Panic that she’s about to go report me flares in my chest. “Wait, I’ll come with—”

  “Hannah,” Lisa interrupts me. “It’s ibuprofen cream and I’m going to go get some ice. Relax, I’ll be right back.”

  I hold out a hand to stop her from leaving. “You’re not going to tell anyone are you?”

  Opening the door, Lisa turns back to look at me. “No, I’m not going to tell anyone. But you’re going to call Ms. Parker and talk to her and Mr. Mike while I’m gone. Okay?” When I hesitate, Lisa raises an eyebrow at me. “You better do it, or I will.” She doesn’t leave until I nod my head.