One Perfect Pirouette

by Sherryl Clark

  ‘They’ve been training,’ I said. ‘Ricky made them.’

  ‘You’re kidding,’ she said and a big smile spread across her face. ‘That’s fantastic. I’ll get on the phone straight after dinner and call them all to apologise and explain.’

  ‘Why wait?’ Tam said. ‘We can manage spuds and stuff’

  Mum leapt up and gave him a big hug, then rushed off with the phone to find her players list. Tam was all flushed, his eyes bright. ‘Right, you can do carrots, Brynnie,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, sir, kitchen patrol, sir!’ I laughed.

  By eight o’clock, my eyelids were drooping and Mum sent me off to bed, where I crashed into a deep, dark sleep for nearly twelve hours. Even when I woke the next morning, I didn’t feel rested. I felt flat. I gazed up at the ceiling, wondering where the emotions of yesterday had all gone. The audition seemed like a dream.

  I shot up in bed – it was Saturday! Ballet class. The audition no longer loomed. It was back to normal and Ms Ellergren would surely expect me to be there. Or would she? Mum was humming in the kitchen, banging plates and cutlery onto the table. As I joined her, she said, ‘You’re not ready for class. Better get a move on.’ That answered my question.

  When we reached the studio, she told me, ‘I’ll drop you off and then go to the hospital. Hopefully, there’ll be better news today. If I’m not here when class is over, just wait, okay?’

  I nodded and checked my watch. I was late. I threw off my clothes in the changing room and rushed into the studio, ballet shoes dangling from my hand, and sat in a corner to put them on. For once, Ms Ellergren didn’t reprimand me, just carried on with the class and I joined in at the back, ignoring curious glances from some of the others. The class was a disaster. I stumbled, overbalanced, nearly fell, and each time my face burned with embarrassment until I stopped caring. So I was having a very bad day. So what? I shut out the Silhouettes’ sniggers and Ms Ellergren’s frown and waited for the class to end, then locked myself in the toilet until I was sure everyone had left.

  Everyone except Ms Ellergren. She was waiting outside for me and I checked her expression, but she didn’t look mad, or even disappointed. Instead, she smiled. ‘How is your father?’ she asked.

  I shrugged. ‘Not good. He’s – he’s in a coma again.’ I swallowed hard, looking away.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She paused. ‘So how was the audition?’

  Her voice had a funny catch in it and I stared up at her. Her eyes were bright, her eyebrows lifted like Mum’s. She really wanted to know!

  ‘It was good. I think.’ I grinned.

  ‘I’m sure you did well,’ she said warmly. ‘You realise if they contact you in the next week to come in for a full physical screening that means you’ve got a conditional place.’

  ‘Really?’ I squeaked. ‘I thought we had to wait for ages. But conditional on what?’

  She laughed. ‘The physical screening. But I’m sure you’ll pass that with flying colours.’

  ‘Oh.’ It was too much to take in. Conditional offer? I might hear in a week? I’d been trying so hard to put it out of my head and Ms Ellergren had dumped it right back in again.

  ‘Your mum will be waiting,’ she said. ‘Do let me know if you hear anything, won’t you?’

  I nodded, left in a daze and found Mum outside in the car, all ready to go to her basketball game. Thank goodness there was something to distract me again!

  The high school gym was almost empty, with a few parents dotted round the seating and the two teams bunched up, one at each end. I found a place to sit; Mum joined her team and got straight into the pep talk, waving her hands round. I watched Ricky and the other boys, their eyes focused totally on her, nodding as she gave instructions. The referee blew his whistle and the game was on.

  At first, Ricky’s team was outplayed all over the court and within five minutes they were down twelve points. Some of the boys drooped, disheartened, but Ricky rallied them, and Mum walked up and down the sideline, shouting encouragement. Suddenly Ricky had the ball and virtually floated down the court, dribbling and swerving, dodging round opposition players. I almost expected him to do a couple of grands jetés! Instead, he jumped, lobbed the ball and it soared into the air and down through the hoop.

  I jumped up, cheering and clapping and when he realised it was me, he gave a little bow. Then he was back into the game again, focused and urging the others on. Every time he turned or twisted, jumped or ran, I saw the same grace and flow that he danced with. It was like magic. I decided I wasn’t going to give up on trying to persuade him to do a ballet class – even if basketball was his passion, dancing would just add to what he already had.

  In the end, his team lost, keeping up but never quite catching the other team’s twelve-point lead from the beginning, but when I joined them afterwards, I could tell they were overjoyed to get that close. ‘The others are the second-top team' Mum told them. ‘You did fantastically well. Another few training sessions and you’ll blitz them next time.’ When she saw them glancing at each other, she added, ‘And I won’t let you down again. If a disaster happens, I’ll get Brynna to call you all and let you know. I promise.’

  ‘That’s cool,’ Ricky said, grinning at me.

  After saying goodbye, Mum and I raced down Ballarat Road to catch the last twenty minutes of Orrin’s game, then we all went to the hospital to see Dad. As we entered the ward, a nurse pulled Mum aside, her face serious. We three bunched together, silently watching Mum’s face. What was the nurse telling her? I didn’t realise I was holding my breath until Mum smiled, then it whooshed out of me and I felt Tam’s hands on my shoulders.

  Mum came over to us. ‘He’s conscious again at last.’ Her chin trembled and she took a shaky breath. ‘We can see him for two minutes, that’s all.’

  Tears stung my eyes as we shuffled into Dad’s room. He looked more like a mummified statue than ever, but at least the machines were beeping at a regular pace. We stood round his bed and took turns at saying hi, keeping our voices low. Same as before, he could hardly move, but his eyes followed us and crinkled up at the corners a lot, and he could squeeze our hands pretty hard. I kept getting a big lump in my throat and having to check my shoelaces until it went away again.

  Uncle Tony had gone back to work, leaving Tam to stay for a bit longer, so it was the four of us on Saturday night. Or so I thought, until Orrin confessed that he was going to the movies with a girl.

  ‘A girl?’ Tam said, astonished. ‘Who’d want to go out with you?’

  Orrin blushed an amazing shade of beetroot and went off to find a clean T-shirt to wear with his best jeans, while Mum sat at the table, making notes about her game plans for her team and Tam and I watched TV. Everything felt like it was getting back to normal, but every now and then I’d think about the audition and whether they’d call me, and my heart would make a big thump in my chest. The only solution was to make myself focus on the normal stuff, and block the NBS out of my head. And that seemed impossible!

  chapter 28

  It was the longest week of my life! Every day dragged, from the time I woke up until the time I lay down again in the dark and tried to go to sleep. I felt like a robot at first, stiff and mechanical, as if the past few days had drained me of all my blood and energy. We visited Dad every night and gradually he had less and less machinery attached to him. By Thursday, he was sitting up and had the tube out of his mouth, but he still couldn’t talk much. The nurse said the tube would have hurt his throat and it would take a while to settle down. Whenever we went into his room, his whole face lit up, and that made us all really happy too.

  On Wednesday night, Tam went back to Bendigo with Uncle Tony, who’d come down to see Dad again. Mum said Tam was missing too much school, so even though he grumbled, in the end he seemed okay about it. Probably he was bored being home alone every day, although he was never going to admit it. It was sad seeing him leave again, but at least this time we said goodbye properly.

  School was like an
ocean for me. I was just one more fish swimming around, hiding behind seaweed and drifting along with friends like Lala. Jade ignored me completely, which was fine by me. Who wanted to hang with a shark? Lucy was nice to me, but once she saw I’d made friends with Lala, she left me and went off with Jade. That was fine by me, too. I had dance practice with Ricky, but no more special classes with Ms Ellergren. I missed them – they’d given me the total focus on perfection that I’d wanted. Maybe one day I’d be able to afford private lessons.

  I refused to think about the National Ballet School. If I did, I’d go crazy. It didn’t stop me from lifting the receiver and checking that our phone still worked every day when I got home from school, as if maybe Mum hadn’t paid the bill! Then I’d find something else to do and stay as far away from the phone as I could.

  On Friday afternoon, before I went to meet Ricky at the youth hall, I searched for one of my favourite books on ballet, to show him photos from The Nutcracker and The Firebird. Photos where there were lots of male dancers doing amazing leaps! I thought maybe it was in my room, but when I couldn’t find it, I went out to the freezing garage to check in the last few boxes of stuff we hadn’t unpacked yet.

  ‘Brynna! Brynna!’ Orrin shouted out the back door, loud enough for neighbours three streets away to hear.

  ‘What?’ As I came out of the garage, he laughed.

  ‘You’ve got black dust all over your face.’

  ‘Gee, thanks. What do you want?’

  ‘Phone for you.’

  My heart stopped, just like that, and for a few seconds I couldn’t hear anything. Then the sound of traffic and birds and someone’s radio playing burst back in full volume. ‘What?’ I said, stupidly.

  He shook his head and pointed back into the kitchen. ‘Better hurry before she hangs up.’

  She. So it wasn’t Ricky. And he would’ve said if it had been Mum. I tried to get up the back steps, but my legs were so shaky that I nearly fell. Orrin grabbed my arm and hauled me inside, muttering, ‘What is your problem?’ Then something clicked and he grinned at me. ‘You gonna be long?’

  Energy zapped through me and I ran for the phone, picked it up and said too loudly, ‘Hello?’

  ‘Is that Brynna Davies?’ It was a woman’s voice, quiet, gracious.

  ‘Yes,’ I squeaked.

  ‘It’s Ms Ballantyne here, Brynna. From the National Ballet School. How are you?’

  I was dying here in my kitchen, but I tried to sound normal. ‘Good, thanks.’

  ‘I’m calling about your audition. We were very happy with you, and we’d like you to come in next Tuesday for a full physical screening. Would that be possible?’

  ‘Yes.’ Not an intelligent answer, but she didn’t seem to mind.

  ‘Good. Let’s say four-thirty, after school?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You realise this means we are making you a conditional offer of a place in the part-time program?’ Now she was starting to sound a bit worried that I wasn’t listening properly, or wasn’t taking her seriously. I sucked in a calming breath and made my shoulders relax.

  ‘Yes, Ms Ellergren explained it. I’ll tell Mum.’ I hesitated, then it burst out of me. ‘Thank you so much. You don’t know what this means to me.’

  ‘It’s an important time for you, Brynna. We are going to be very happy to have you as a student. I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully. Goodbye.’

  ‘Thank you. Bye.’

  My hands were shaking so much that I dropped the phone twice before I got it back on the cradle. Orrin was right behind me. ‘Well?’

  I jumped and spun round, gave him a big poke in the ribs, then danced round the kitchen table. ‘I’ve done it! I’m in! I’ve got a place!’

  ‘I guess you’re happy then,’ he said, grinning.

  ‘Happy? I am – in rapture!’ I shouted.

  The front door opened and Mum came in. ‘What’s all the shouting? I could hear you out in the street.’ She took one look at my face and said, ‘Oh, Brynnie, you did it, didn’t you?’ Her face looked like it did when she told me about Dad, and I stopped dancing.

  ‘What’s the matter? Is Dad – ?’

  ‘No, he’s fine.’ She started to cry, but then she was laughing and waving her hands around. ‘I can’t believe it – yes, I can. It’s amazing. You’re amazing. Both of you are amazing. We’re all amazing!’

  She gathered Orrin and me into a big hug, and he groaned, but he hugged back just as hard as I did. ‘Just wait till we tell your dad,’ she said.

  I couldn’t wait to tell Ricky! I wanted to tell the whole world, actually, but Dad and Ricky were the most important. Stephanie and Lucy no longer mattered.

  And even though I knew Dad and Ricky and Tam would be happy for me, just like Mum and Orrin, even though I’d proved that the moving house and the new schools and jobs were worth it – in the end, like Mum said, it all came back to me. I had proved to myself that I had the talent and dedication and guts it took to be a ballerina. And that was what counted.

  Acknowledgements

  There have been many people who helped me with research for this book, but in particular I want to thank: Moira McAlister, who sparked the original idea; Christine Bowman at the West Pointe Ballet Academy; and Leigh Rowles, Head of Student Training at The Australian Ballet School.

  First published 2010 by University of Queensland Press

  PO Box 6042, St Lucia, Queensland 4067 Australia

  Reprinted 2011, 2015

  www.uqp.com.au

  © Sherryl Clark

  This book is copyright. Except for private study, research, criticism or reviews, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any foram or by any means without prior written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.

  Typeset by Post Pre-Press Group

  Cataloguing in Publication Data

  National Library of Australia

  Clark, Sherryl

  One Perfect Pirouette

  For primary school age.

  1. Ballet – Juvenile Fiction. I. Title.

  A823.3

  ISBN 978 0 7022 3841 3 (pbk)

  ISBN 978 0 7022 3806 2 (pdf)

  ISBN 978 0 7022 4517 6 (epub)

  ISBN 978 0 7022 4515 2 (kindle)