Kat: Breaking Pointe

by Sebastian Scott

  My heart lurches. Poor Christian.

  ‘He’s a snow dome,’ says Sammy, pleased with himself.

  ‘We all like our metaphors today,’ I say.

  ‘Well, he’s the snowman inside the snow dome. All he’s had his whole life are snow storms. His mum dying. His dad taking off.’

  ‘What does that have to do with focusing on our exams?’ Tara asks. She really is not a student of the human condition.

  ‘Now finally there’s someone holding out an umbrella. Finally he drops his guard and what happens? BAM! Blizzard central all over again.’

  Poor Christian.

  While Tara chases Christian down to desperately unpause, I go back to the Academy to let Ben down gently. He’s not in his room. I turn to leave when he appears on the stairs, wearing only a towel, looking undeniably hawt. It’s as if Aphrodite, the goddess of teen lust that Tara likes to pray to sometimes, is waving him under my nose for a reason. He opens his mouth and out pour these lovely words about how I make everything more fun. Fun! No Christianesque epic man pain. Just sweet puppy dog eyes.

  I stammer something lame about how of course I will be at the flash mob. With a camera.

  Sammy’s right. Who am I saving myself for? Christian? Christian loves Tara. Why can’t I like Ben? It makes sense. He’s gorgeous and he likes me. Maybe I just need to try harder to like him back.

  We’re on the train heading to the ferry terminal to do the flash mob thing, when suddenly the music starts and I hear a mighty stomp. It’s Ben. We’re taken by surprise, but we’re nothing if not adaptable. We join in, one by one, Ben and I tapping up the front of the carriage, Tara and Christian down the other end. It’s a great feeling, spontaneous and joyful but together, like a Gene Kelly movie, where everyone magically knows the words of the song and the choreography. I’m enjoying Ben’s company. And why shouldn’t I? He’s cute and fun and sweet. He’s great to dance with. And he likes me. Also he’s not in the midst of some tortured on-again off-again relationship with my best friend, which is a definite bonus.

  We celebrate afterwards at the park, everyone on a high. Ben tries to refill my cup, pouring the drink all over my foot. He drops to his knee trying to wipe it off.

  ‘It’s just a foot, Ben! It’ll keep.’

  ‘It’s not just any foot. Here – ’ he wrenches off my shoe, almost bowling me over.

  ‘Ben! Down boy!’

  He scurries off with my shoe. Bad puppy. I am kind of embarrassed and charmed all at the same time.

  But I forget about my shoe when I see Christian and Tara approaching. Christian is fuming and Tara is desperately trying to keep up. What’s she done this time? I think, then push that disloyal thought aside.

  ‘I’m sorry!’ Tara is saying. ‘I just want you to be happy.’

  He wheels on her. ‘No, you want me to be different. The pie chart. The constant pressure about commitment.’

  Tara is stung into silence.

  ‘I don’t need your help, Tara. I’m totally fine without you.’

  And he’s gone. I go to Tara and put my arm around her.

  ‘It’s okay, sweetie,’ I say. ‘It’s just another fight, right?’

  She looks at me and her face is white. ‘I don’t think so. Not this time. I think … he just broke up with me. I told him I found his dad online. He’s furious. I was only trying to help him.’

  I rub Tara’s arm. She’s done the wrong thing but it’s not time for a lecture. I hold her and let her cry.

  ‘It won’t be forever,’ I tell Tara. ‘You’ll see. You guys are meant to be together. He’ll figure that out, eventually.’

  But Tara doesn’t look so sure.

  CHAPTER 10

  Then suddenly the exams that have been looming for weeks are here. Sammy is busy every moment of every day and Tara, devastated over her break-up with Christian, throws herself into her work. But I just can’t bring myself to care about my own Normal School exams. For the life of me I can’t plot an axis of symmetry on a parabola curve, nor can I care. I can’t picture any situation ever arising where I will be called on to do this in the real world. It all seems so pointless. Somewhere in the very back of my tiny mind I am aware that I am repeating the same pointless self-sabotaging behaviour that got me kicked out of the Academy. But the thought depresses rather than motivates me.

  Eventually I decide my problem is sitting. So much sitting. I am kinetic. I learn better if I’m on my feet. So I grab Ethan’s old skateboard and my helmet and catch a bus to the city. I tell myself that outside the Academy is the best place to practise, but I am totally aware that my pathetic attempt to casually bump into my friends knows no bounds. Still, at least I am learning something. Even if it is to ollie. But ollying makes more practical sense than parabola curves.

  ‘Those skills are white hot.’

  I turn around to catch Christian’s famous smirk. I don’t smile.

  ‘Begone with your compliments,’ I tell him. ‘We’re not on speaking terms.’

  He frowns, ‘What?’

  ‘You broke up with Tara. Under Article 107 of the BFF Code I’m on her side for the rest of eternity.’

  ‘I’d hate to contravene Girl Code but is there a loophole if I double as your skating tutor?’

  He’s masking it, but I realise he’s hurting, too.

  ‘I thought you said my skills were hot?’

  He grins. ‘Lied.’

  We hang together through the long afternoon. I notice his phone keeps beeping with messages but he ignores it. I fall off a lot, but it’s good to be out of the house and it’s so good to have company. Part of me feels that I am betraying Tara, hanging out with Christian like this. But (I tell myself) it wouldn’t be fair for Tara to make me choose.

  We walk together along the harbour. The lights of Luna Park sparkle in the background. I am suddenly quiet. Shy. But I don’t think Christian notices.

  I rub my palm where I’ve scraped the skin off.

  ‘My mum used to tell me off for picking my scabs,’ he says, unromantically.

  ‘Ethan used to eat his.’

  Christian laughs. Then he continues, more seriously, ‘She said I was being unfair, undoing all their work, when they were just trying to make me better.’

  I flick him a sideways glance. ‘Kind of like Tara?’

  He gazes at me. ‘You think I need fixing, too?’

  His eyes pierce through me. ‘No,’ I tell him, honestly. But I can’t hold his eyes, the moment is too intense.

  I glance away and see a giant poster: it’s Christian, magnified, staring down at me. I laugh. ‘But then I’ve always known, deep down, you were the pin-up boy of the Academy.’

  ‘They never told me they were going to do that. This place is unbelievable.’

  ‘Hey, it’s just exam blues. If you want to feel seriously depressed you should try failing vegie maths. I mean what’s even below that?’

  ‘Tofu?’ He takes a moment. ‘Did you see what I just did there?’

  I grimace. We keep walking.

  I stare down at my history exam paper and fidget anxiously in my seat. The clock ticks angrily.

  Elke next to me has already filled a whole page, while I’ve barely scratched out four sentences. When she catches me watching she covers her work. Hopelessly, I look at my own paper again.

  There’s a knock on the classroom door. It’s Lexie. ‘Miss? Kat’s brother’s here. Family emergency.’

  ‘Ethan?’ I say.

  But it’s Christian who steps into the doorway.

  As I step out of the classroom he hisses, ‘I’m busting you out.’

  ‘What?’ I ask, following him down the corridor.

  ‘I suddenly got the urge to do something fun. And I couldn’t think of a more worthy wingman.’

  I stop in my tracks, feeling the smile fade from my face.

  ‘Okay, but aren’t you meant to be in pas de deux this morning?’

  Christian refuses to let me spoil his buzz. ‘You’re right. E
xams are depressing.’

  ‘You can’t listen to me. My life’s a mess. They could kick you out for ditching.’

  ‘Maybe they should.’

  I shake my head. ‘Go back. I’m serious. I don’t want you on my conscience.’

  I turn on my heel. I don’t look back but I can feel him watching me walk away.

  When I finally get out of the exam, bleary-eyed and depressed from the experience, I see Christian in the grounds, waiting for me. Lexie is hovering beside him, giggling and batting her eyelashes.

  ‘Don’t feel special,’ I tell Christian, ignoring Lexie. ‘They’re boy starved here.’

  ‘Bye, Kat’s brother,’ Lexie chirrups.

  ‘So what are we doing now?’ Christian asks.

  ‘Taking you back to the Academy?’

  He pretends to consider it. ‘What else you got?’

  ‘Work. You’d have to help though and I don’t think you’d be into it.’

  His phone rings. He glances at it, and terminates the call. ‘Lead the way.’

  I drop in to Party Party Party, a small business that Anne Black has got me a gig with, to pick up my costume.

  ‘This is Christian my, um, work experience student,’ I tell them. ‘Do you have a costume that will fit him, too?’ I lean in closer and whisper, ‘He’s classically trained.’ Beryl, who smells of chewing gum and cigarette smoke, eyes Christian up and down, then heaves herself off her feet and goes into the back room. She comes back with a costume, slams it down on the counter and goes back to watching her soap opera.

  ‘There’s a little bit of fairy dust in the air,’ I whisper to Christian, who snorts laughter through his nose.

  Christian pulls at his eye patch, distinctly uncomfortable.

  ‘Why are we doing this again?’ he asks me.

  ‘I have to take my opportunities to dance where I find them. Now I’m not at the Academy.’ I grin. ‘Did you like how subtle that was?’

  Christian flinches. ‘You should go into life coaching.’

  It’s easy to find the right house, we just follow the trail of balloons and streamers and the sound of pre-schoolers squealing. The garden is beautifully decorated, and there’s about twenty little girls wearing fairy dresses.

  ‘Is anyone here called Charlotte?’ Three-year-old Charlotte and her friends run over. ‘Fairies of old. Fairies of new. Sprinkle on fairy dust and you’ll be one, too.’ I sprinkle glitter over the little girls. ‘I’m Lilac, the Birthday Fairy. And this is my sidekick, Captain Backflip.’

  Christian shoots me a withering look. I hit play on my mp3 player. ‘Who wants to become part of the magical fairy club?’

  ‘Me! Me! Me!’

  I go through the script, trying to put as much life and fun into it as I can. ‘Fairy wings up, fairy wings down …’ I lead the kids through the garden. Under my smile I feel the strain of the exams, and a building grief. Anne Black told me that every audition, every job, would be a chance to dance. But every time I do dance I feel torn between worlds, the one I have to live in on a daily basis, and the world of dance – a world of couldabeens.

  To his credit, Christian stays for the whole party, and ends up teaching Charlotte’s brother how to do a backflip on the trampoline. I notice how patient he is with the kid. He’s a good teacher.

  But I don’t want him to end up like me. Even if he doesn’t want to dance with the Company, he owes it to himself to keep the door open, just in case he changes his mind. So I am relieved to find, when the party is finished, that Captain Backflip has slipped away, back to the Academy to dance his pas de deux exam.

  CHAPTER 11

  ‘Okay,’ says Christian. ‘Rule one for tonight. Talking about females of any kind is banned.’

  Ben grabs Christian and Sammy in a group hug and tries to bounce them up and down. ‘Rules! I love it when a dudes’ night out gets official!’

  I stand in the doorway, watching all this. The boys see me and stop what they’re doing.

  ‘Well, this is disturbing,’ I tell them.

  ‘Kat,’ Ben says. ‘Ignore everything you just heard. You can totally be our token female.’

  ‘Very attractive offer but I have a prior engagement. Just wanted to say happy holidays and I look forward to seeing this disaster,’ I draw a circle with my finger around the three of them, ‘on Stalkbook.’

  I head off down the stairs, but Christian sticks his hand out. ‘Katrina,’ he calls, teasingly.

  ‘You know where my priorities lie,’ I say, firmly.

  ‘Yeah, but this will be more fun.’

  I know I shouldn’t be enjoying his flirting as much as I am, but I can’t help it. I shake my head, smiling, and head out to find Tara.

  She’s with Grace and Abigail, chucking eggs at the big poster of Christian, staring moodily out at the harbour.

  ‘Who says ballet girls don’t know how to party?’ I quip.

  ‘Kat! Hey!’ Tara gambols over and wraps her arms round my neck. ‘Legal studies exam? Good or bad?’

  ‘Yes.’ I change the subject. ‘In more interesting news, my agent has a stack of free tix to the Southdockers tonight. Under eighteens only.’

  Grace raises her eyebrows. ‘So?’

  ‘Apparently they’re shooting a film clip and want a few professional dancers, i.e. moi plus friends.’

  Grace turns away, disinterested. ‘Pretty huge night planned already, Kat.’

  But Tara stays by me. ‘Sorry, Grace, do you mind if I do this instead?’

  Grace is clearly miffed. But she says, ‘You’d think she’d want one night off dancing. Count us in.’

  ‘Yay,’ says Abigail, deadpan. I match her lack of enthusiasm. I was looking forward to a night with Tara, not with the balletbot brigade.

  We get ready in Grace’s room. Grace is generous with her clothes, helping Tara pick something from her extensive wardrobe. On the surface Grace is all sweetness, but there is a sharpness to her that I am not entirely comfortable with. Tara and Abigail don’t seem to notice it. Maybe I’m just feeling prickly because she kind of took my place at the Academy.

  My phone bleeps at me. It’s a message from Christian, a silly pic of Sammy. I hide a smile.

  ‘Who’s that from?’ Tara asks.

  I don’t want to say Christian.

  ‘Ben?’ Tara guesses. ‘Is he still crushing?’

  Grace eyes me. There is something about her careless, languid movements that reminds me of a cat, feigning disinterest, just before she pounces on her prey. ‘Don’t worry, he’ll get bored eventually.’

  No one else reacts to her veiled insult. I put my phone down and ignore Grace.

  ‘Don’t say that,’ Tara says. ‘I want one of us to be in love, even if it’s not me.’

  ‘Okay, if I’m going to be involved in this outing, the pathetic boy talk stops now,’ Abigail snaps.

  ‘I don’t think I can do this,’ Tara says.

  ‘You can’t go wrong with black,’ I tell her, soothingly.

  ‘I can’t do casual dancing.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘She means unstructured, unchoreographed,’ Abigail says. ‘It’s a common problem for the semi-trained.’

  ‘Maybe I should stay home and mope.’

  ‘No!’ I protest. I turn the music up and start to dance; Tara tries to copy me.

  ‘Hips,’ I say. I sway them. ‘Hair,’ I move my head. ‘Hips and hair.’

  ‘Hips and hair?’ Tara attempts it.

  ‘Say it again,’ I instruct her.

  ‘Hips and hair!’

  Tara shakes her hair, then wiggles her hips. I can’t believe she can be so uncoordinated.

  ‘It’s a start,’ I say.

  ‘Christian would be so embarrassed watching this. He always has to be too cool.’

  I nod vaguely.

  ‘Just like he’s too cool to even talk about what happened,’ Tara says. ‘He tells me he loves me, then pushes me away for trying to help him?’

  ‘It was really u
nfair,’ I say uncomfortably.

  ‘Eventually he’ll realise how good I am for him. And when he crawls back I’ll be like, sorry, you missed your chance, PAL!’

  ‘Okay. Less lips, more hips.’

  To our surprise, Abigail gets up and joins the dancing lesson, showing Tara her version of hips and hair. Abigail and I start trying out some of our old moves, from when we were little and dancing was part of our play life, before Abigail got too old to play and everything had to be so serious.

  Finally I start to relax. It’s going to be a good night after all.

  When we leave I pat my jeans, realising I’ve forgotten my phone. I race back into Grace’s room. There it is, on her bedside table. I grab it and tuck it into my back pocket as I join the other girls.

  On the way to the club, Christian sends more texts and I message him back. It’s harmless, I tell myself. Not even flirting. Just shared silliness between mates. Grace puts her arms around Tara and Abigail, I walk a little to one side. If it’s so harmless, a voice inside me says, why am I being so careful to hide it from Tara?

  We move through the queue quickly. I enjoy the special feeling of having my name on the door and being able to share that with my friends. We wave to the cameras set up outside and Grace hands out her handbag for us to stash our phones and purses. Again I feel a slight flicker of distrust, but on the surface she is all friendliness and smiles and I tell myself I’m just being paranoid. If Tara likes her, she must have hidden depths that I haven’t seen yet.

  The venue is full of kids dancing to hip-hop music. Laser lights flicker through white smoke bellowing from overhead machines. There’s an empty stage at the front – the Southdockers haven’t started yet.

  The music is too loud to talk over so we dance instead. Tara moves well, and only Grace, Abigail and I would ever notice her lips moving: under her breath she is muttering her mantra: hips and hair.

  I am shocked to see the boys pushing their way through the crowd – Ben, Sammy and Christian. This isn’t what I expected. Sammy hugs me and then surprises Tara, who’s thrilled to see him.