Orrin ambled in behind him. ‘Brynnie, what’s up?’
Why didn’t they leave me alone? Then I could crumble and die in peace.
Strong hands lifted me up. Orrin peered into my face. ‘Why are you crying? Dad’s going to be fine.’
I sniffed. ‘I know.’
‘Who was that on the phone?’
‘Nobody.’
‘Garbage.’ He sat me down at the table. ‘Tam, get her a drink of water.’
A glass of water slopped in front of me.
‘What’s wrong?’ Orrin glanced at Tam. ‘We won’t leave you alone until you tell us.’
‘Stephanie – this girl in my ballet class. She had her audition today.’ I sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. ‘She called and – she said it was really hard and I wouldn’t be good enough, so I might as well pull out now.’
‘Is this the same girl who cut up your shoes?’
‘How did you know?’ I stared at him.
‘Mum filled us in,’ Tam said. He sat across from me, slouched in the chair. ‘So why are you being such a wuss? Tell her to get stuffed.’
‘Well, I tried, but –’
‘You’ll blow them outta the water,’ Tam said. ‘Stop worrying.’
‘I will?’
‘Geez, course you will,’ he huffed. ‘You’ve got the star factor, like big bro here. I don’t know why you’re worrying about it, or taking any notice of Miss Snotty.’
‘Who says I’m a star?’ Orrin snapped.
The last thing I needed was fighting brothers.
‘Look, I know I’m a dud,’ Tam said. ‘Can’t play footy, hate the city, no good at school. That’s cool.’
‘You’re not a dud!’ I said.
Orrin folded his arms and said, ‘Is that why you bolted back to Bendigo? Couldn’t stand the pressure of having to make an effort?’
‘That’s bulldust!’ Tam cried, his face flushing. ‘I’m just not like you guys, that’s all. No one says I have to be.’
‘That’s right,’ said Orrin. ‘But no one said you have to use us as an excuse to drop out and be a loser, either.’ Now his face was red, too, and his eyes flashed.
‘I’m doing fine,’ Tam said. ‘I’m doing what I want.’
‘Which is what? Sponging off Uncle Tony? Getting detention for not doing homework?’
‘That was before. We’ve sorted it out now. I’ve started the apprenticeship at the blacksmithing place. Old Teddy says I’m good at it.’
‘Are you going to stick at it?’ Orrin asked. I hid a grin – he sounded just like Dad.
‘Course I am!’
‘Good.’ He turned to me. ‘And you can ignore what Miss Snotty said and focus on getting your head in the right place for tomorrow, okay?’
I saluted. ‘Yes, sir!’
‘Smarty.’ He took a fake swipe at my head and grinned. ‘I’ve got footy training. Brynna needs to work on her audition stuff. So that means you’re cooking dinner, Tam.’
‘Me?’
‘Him?’ That was going to be a first and maybe a dangerous one.
‘Mum said there are two meat pies in the freezer. Follow the instructions on the packet and peel some spuds. Lots of them. I’m off.’
Tam opened the freezer, grumbling to himself, and I escaped to the garage, but despite what my two brothers had told me, Stephanie’s voice echoed inside my head and my practice went badly. When I overbalanced on an arabesque and nearly twisted my ankle, I knew it was time to stop.
Sleep that night was a long time coming. Even visiting Dad and seeing his eyes open, blinking yes and no in response to Mum and feeling him squeeze my hand for luck, hadn’t kept up my spirits. I wanted the audition to be over, or I wanted someone to announce that it was cancelled. Anything except having to actually go through with it!
And as for Stephanie – her voice still echoed in my head. I knew she was jealous, but she said the audition was really hard, that I wasn’t up to it.
Mrs Calzotti’s voice echoed in my mind, something she’d said to me at my last class with her, something I’d ignored at the time, thinking she was being a bit over the top. Everyone wants to be the prima ballerina, even in dance class. You will meet many dancers who would wish a broken ankle onto you. That is where you will have to learn to be tougher.
Tam was right. I was being a wuss, letting Stephanie upset me, especially when that had been her whole aim. I punched my pillow into shape and settled down to sleep.
chapter 26
When I woke up on Friday morning, Audition Day! flashed in my brain like a neon sign, and I jumped out of bed. The house felt strangely empty, even though it was nearly eight. I heard Orrin and Tam talking, a low rumble through their bedroom wall, but there was no Uncle Tony on the couch in the lounge. And Mum wasn’t in her bed either. They’d obviously gone back to the hospital – but why?
The phone on the wall didn’t give me an answer. I made myself some toast and hot chocolate for breakfast and sat at the table, trying to force down the toast without much success. My throat was squeezed so tight that even the chocolate made me choke and cough. Finally I gave up and went to pack my bag for the audition. I put on my best leotard and tights, freshly washed – the instructions said to come ready, with warm clothes on top. In my bag went the new shoes that I’d bought, a drink bottle of water, an extra jacket to wear in case I got cold. Then I dressed in warm clothes over my ballet gear, and put my runners on.
My audition was at 11. The clock had sped around to 9.05 already and Mum still wasn’t home. Why didn’t she call? I’d have to go to the Ballet School on the bus. What if I caught the wrong one, or there was a traffic jam? Didn’t Mum have to be with me at the audition?
When I heard our car in the driveway a couple of minutes later, the relief rolled through me in a huge rush and I had to sit down. Mum burst in through the front door, pulling off her jacket and scarf, her face pale. ‘Oh Brynna, I’m sorry. I hope you’re all ready.’
‘Where were you?’ I cried.
‘At the hospital. Come on, let’s go.’ She didn’t stop to brush her hair or have breakfast, just grabbed her best black winter coat and headed back to the car. As I followed her, I heard Orrin and Tam yell, ‘Good luck!’ and it made me smile.
Mum put the car into gear and we roared up our street and around the corner, and were on our way into the city centre. ‘Westgate Bridge will be quickest,’ she muttered, signaling and changing lanes. I huddled down in my seat, hugging my bag to my chest.
When it seemed that she’d calmed down a bit and was driving slower, I asked, ‘Why were you at the hospital so early? Is something wrong with Dad?’
She glanced sideways at me and bit her lip, but said nothing.
‘Mum, come on. I can tell you’re upset. Keeping it a secret won’t make me any less nervous about the audition. It’ll make me worse!’
She sighed, a big ragged sigh. ‘Your dad’s lapsed back into a coma. They had to operate again early this morning. There was a swelling under his skull that could’ve been a clot and they had to relieve the pressure.’
‘Is he going to die?’ My voice came out all wobbly.
‘No, of course not!’ She coughed and sighed again. ‘It’s something that happens with head injuries – they were on the lookout for it, and they caught it in time, so that’s good.’
‘But?’
‘We have to wait now and trust they’ll be able to stop any further – problems.’ She checked her watch. ‘Goodness, we’d better get a move on! Hope there’s parking.’
‘There is,’ I said. ‘The school’s got a car park underneath it.’
‘That’s right,’ Mum said. ‘Now, Brynna, I know it’s going to be hard to focus on the audition with the worry about Dad, but you have to. Dad, of all people, would want you to do your absolute best and succeed. He certainly wouldn’t want to think that his being injured meant you – well – stuffed it up.’
‘I know.’ And I did know she was right, but the dull, leaden fee
ling was back in my legs and arms and I wondered how I’d even get out of the car, let alone dance. Couldn’t I put the audition off till Dad was better? I knew it wasn’t possible. I had to go through with it, even if I made a complete mess of it. There was always next year.
It seemed like we parked, went up in the lift and were at the front desk, being ticked off a list, within about ten seconds. Mum helped me pin numbers on my front and back – 15 – was that lucky or not? I barely had time to look around at the photos and displays before she gave me a big hug and said, ‘Knock them dead, Brynnie!’ in my ear, and left. I was surrounded by about sixteen girls and a few boys. Most of them seemed smaller than me, although there were some the same height. Instead of chattering, everyone was strangely quiet, sneaking glances at each other and making faces.
A few minutes later, a woman came and led us through a glass door and down a long hall; I hardly had time to stare around me, but I glimpsed a classroom with some computers in it, and a little room with exercise bikes and drink machines. The woman showed us a long row of photos on the wall, and pointed to two of them. ‘This is who will be assessing you today,’ she said. ‘Ms Ballantyne and Ms Carr.’ I sucked in my breath. I recognised both of them – they were famous! Ms Ballantyne was the Director of the Ballet School. My heart skittered in my chest and I put my hand over it to try and calm it down.
We stopped in front of a set of white double doors. ‘This is Studio Three,’ she said. ‘You can all go in now and warm up. Don’t be nervous. You’ll be fine.’ She gave us a big smile and ushered us in.
‘Don’t be nervous, you’ll be fine.’ Who was she kidding? My legs had gone from lead to jelly, but I tottered into the studio, took my jacket and shoes off and put them in one of the pigeonholes. I closed my eyes and tried deep breathing, visualising Ms Ellergren smiling at me, but it didn’t work. All that I could see was Dad lying in the hospital bed with his eyes closed, machines beeping. I didn’t want him to die!
I swallowed hard, past the lump in my throat and went to the barre against the wall to start my warm-up. Stretch, bend, flex, stretch, bend, flex. The studio wasn’t as big as I expected and I could hear the others whispering and giggling around me. Stretch, bend, flex – how were my arms? Oops, there I was – the mirrored wall was right in front of me and I hadn’t even noticed it! Yes, arms looked okay, even if they felt jerky. Back straight, head up. Focus, I had to focus.
Right then, instead of seeing Dad in the hospital bed, unconscious, I saw him the day he came to help me at the youth hall, watching me from the doorway and clapping. ‘Lovely,’ he’d said, and his face had been glowing.
‘Lovely,’ I whispered to myself. ‘For Dad.’
‘Is everyone ready?’ a voice said.
I quickly took my track pants off, stowed them away, turned and smiled. Even the sight of two elegant women sitting behind a table on the other side of the room, gazing at us, only made me waver for a couple of seconds. Then I stepped forward, my mind calm, my body fizzing lightly with energy.
It was now or never!
I’m not sure what I expected – complicated dance routines? Gruelling tests? Instead, it was just like a normal class. A man with an accent was our teacher and he was incredibly patient, taking us through familiar exercises, watching and directing. We were all trying to keep clear of each other, trying not to copy – or I was, at least. If I was going to make any mistakes, they’d be my own! The piano boomed out the notes, the woman playing it focused on watching the teacher and waiting for instructions.
Finally, after nearly an hour, the class had finished. Then we lined up and were each closely examined by either Ms Ballantyne or Ms Carr. I stood in front of Ms Ballantyne, as straight as I could, not sure if the sweat trickling down my back was from the class or my nerves. She asked me to stretch and bend, looking at parts of my body, getting me to turn my hips out to test rotation, and checking my insteps and my Achilles tendons. After each part, she’d tick a box on the form in front of her. Finally she smiled and said, ‘Thank you, Brynna, we’ll be in touch.’
Suddenly the audition was over. Some of the others were still lining up for their physical examination, but I was free to go. I felt as light as a cloud, taking off my shoes and my numbers, putting on my jacket, drifting out along the corridor. The world seemed unreal, fuzzy around the edges and incredibly bright and clear in front of me. When I found Mum waiting in the reception area, I had to blink a few times to make sure she was actually there.
‘How did it go?’ she asked, her eyebrows raised high, her face expectant.
‘Good – I think.’ I held my hands out wide. ‘I’ve done it. I can’t undo it now. I just have to keep my fingers and toes and everything else crossed.’
‘Don’t do that,’ she said, grinning. ‘We won’t find out for a while yet.’
‘I won’t be able to wait!’ How did anyone stand the not knowing? Did your life just stop until the letter arrived?
‘It’ll pass before you know it. Let’s head home and then I’m going back to the hospital.’ As she pressed the button for the lift, the reality of Dad in a coma crashed down on me again. I wrapped my jacket tightly around me, stared down at my feet, back in their pink and white runners. I’d done my best; now Dad had to do his.
chapter 27
It was too late to go to school. Once I would’ve loved being able to hang round at home, watching TV and reading, but my brain was like a crazy movie camera, playing bits of the audition over and over. Mum had gone back to the hospital, but she wouldn’t let any of us go with her, saying that we’d only get in the way. She promised to call if anything changed.
Orrin and Tam went for a run and then lay around the lounge room, watching DVDs they’d rented from a nearby video shop. The constant explosions and car chases with squealing tyres nearly drove me insane and when it was close to four, I changed into my ballet gear again and set off for the youth hall. I knew Ricky wouldn’t be there and I planned to ask one of the TV boys to help me with the tables, but they were already folded against the wall.
I put on my new shoes and ran my hand over the soft leather, wondering if these would be my lucky shoes, the ones I could say helped me get into the NBS. I shook my head. Mum was right. It’d be ages before I found out and by then these shoes might be all worn out and no longer special.
Rap, rap! I jumped at the noise and looked up. It was Ricky, tapping on the window and waving at me. I slid the window open and he climbed in. ‘Hey, what’s happening?’ he said.
‘Practice,’ I said. ‘I thought you’d given up ballet for basketball.’
‘Ha,’ he scoffed. ‘What’s the point of training? Even though I made the guys go through it all and work super-hard. Our so-called coach hasn’t turned up all week. So much for the big talk about faith in ourselves, eh?’
I poked him hard in the chest. ‘Watch it. You’re talking about my mum. She happens to be your so-called coach.’ I ignored the astonishment on his face and snapped, ‘I told you, my dad nearly died in an accident at work, and coaching you guys hasn’t exactly been top of Mum’s list. And now he might –’ My voice quavered and I couldn’t say another word. I bit down hard on my lip and turned away.
The silence stretched out for several long seconds and then he said, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Nobody did. We just, you know, we didn’t know what to think.’
I turned back. He stood there with his arms folded and couldn’t meet my eyes. ‘I guess it’s not your fault,’ I said. ‘It’s been horrible and I had to do my audition today, even though Dad’s still on the danger list.’
‘It was today?’ He whistled through his teeth. ‘That musta been majorly hard.’
‘Yeah, well –’ I couldn’t bear another silence, so I flung my arms out. ‘So – are we dancing or not?’
‘Sure!’ He rummaged in his backpack and brought out his iPod and little speakers. ‘I found this new music that sounded cool.’ As he fiddled with setting it all up, he said offhandedly, ‘H
ey, it’s our first game tomorrow. I know your mum maybe can’t come, or maybe you can’t come either, but I thought I’d see – if you wanted to. But you don’t have to.’
‘Is it at the high school gym?’
‘Yeah. Two-thirty. No big deal.’
But I knew it was. His face was pink, even his ears were pink! Ricky might have liked dancing with me, but his first and biggest passion was definitely basketball. I promised myself that I’d do everything I could to be there and I crossed my fingers that Mum could, too. I was sure she wouldn’t have forgotten about them, but the week had been – hideous, for all of us, especially her.
Ricky’s music boomed out across the room. ‘What on earth’s that?’ I said and he laughed.
‘It’s cool, hey? It’s called the 1812 Overture. Listen to those cannons. It sounds like a battle charge. I can do some of those big jumps to this.’
‘Yes, but you don’t want to break a leg before your game, do you?’
His face fell. ‘Oh. I suppose not.’
I grinned. ‘Let’s warm up first, and then we’ll see.’
When I got back home, Mum was there, cooking dinner and talking to Tam as he lounged against the sink. ‘How’s Dad?’ I said.
‘The same.’ Mum sighed and tipped potatoes out of a bag. They thumped onto the bench and rolled into the sink.
Tam glanced at me. ‘Mum says you didn’t let Miss Snotty upset you.’
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ she asked.
I shrugged. ‘It wasn’t worth it. I want to know how come you didn’t tell your basketball team why you couldn’t go to training.’
‘I did.’ She frowned. ‘I rang the man who organised the gym. You mean he didn’t pass the message on?’ She opened the oven door and poked at the chicken, then banged it shut again. ‘That’s a disaster. They’ll think I don’t care, that I’ve let them down.’ Her breath huffed out and she looked at me. ‘How did you know?’
‘Ricky told me. They did think that. And their first game’s tomorrow.’
‘Of course it is. And I’ll bet they haven’t done any of the training stuff I showed them.’ She sat down at the table, head in hands. ‘I feel terrible!’
One Perfect Pirouette Page 17
