Star Quality

by Jean Ure

  I certainly wasn’t going to tell Mum about it. She would immediately want to know how I’d done it, and just saying I’d tripped over wasn’t likely to satisfy her. Dancers aren’t supposed to trip over! Fortunately it was the winter term, which meant long sleeves, so I could easily hide it from her and Dad. Where I couldn’t hide it was at school, and especially not in dance classes. Even long-sleeved leotards don’t completely cover your wrists. It was Mei, as we changed for our first session, who shrieked, “Maddy, what have you done?”

  Everyone instantly spun round to see.

  “It’s only a bruise,” I said.

  Amber pulled a face. “Yuck! It’s all colours of the rainbow.”

  I held it out, admiringly. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

  “You wait till Miss Eldon sees it!” said Tiffany. “She won’t think it’s very pretty. Imagine dancing Sylphides looking like something out of a horror movie!”

  “I’m not going to be dancing Sylphides,” I said.

  “Probably won’t be dancing anything at all,” said Amber.

  “Course I will!” I dismissed the notion, scornfully. “It’s not as if it’s broken or anything.”

  “But how did it happen?” Alex wanted to know.

  I hesitated. I hadn’t yet had time to decide what I was going to tell people. Caitlyn was looking at me reproachfully. “Maddy,” she hissed, “you didn’t?”

  It was hardly more than a whisper. But Tiffany, with her great flapping ears, was on it in a flash.

  “Didn’t what?”

  “Fall over?” said Caitlyn.

  “Ooh,” squealed Amber, “is that what you did?”

  Looking very hard at Caitlyn I said, “Read my lips: I DID NOT FALL OVER.”

  Tiffany, wildly excited, shrieked, “So how did you do it?”

  “Somebody crashed into me,” I said. I looked rather hard at Caitlyn as I said it, but she just shook her head.

  “You should sue them,” said Tiffany. “Look at the state of you!”

  “It’ll clear up,” I said. “It’s nothing serious.”

  Miss Eldon, needless to say, homed in on it immediately.

  “Maddy,” she said, “what on earth have you done to yourself?”

  I told her that someone had pushed me and made me fall over. “It isn’t anything. It’s just a bit sore.”

  “Well, it looks very nasty. Have you been to the nurse?”

  “It’s only a bruise,” I said. “Honestly!”

  “Nevertheless, I’d like you to go and get it checked. Please do it as soon as you can. All right?”

  As soon as class was over I dutifully took myself off to the nurse’s office, only to be told what I’d known all along: it was just a bruise.

  “I’m afraid it’s going to be a bit sore for a while, but try rubbing some arnica in it. That should help.”

  “I don’t even need it strapped up,” I told Caitlyn, triumphantly, later in the day. “It’s all a great fuss about nothing!”

  “But how did it happen?” said Caitlyn. “If you didn’t fall over—”

  “I told you,” I said. “It was just one of those things. There was this stupid boy, going round far too fast. He went and crashed straight into me! Sonya was absolutely furious; she threatened to report him. But at least I proved I could do it! Livi and Jordan were there. I think they were secretly hoping I’d fall over, but I didn’t. Honestly, it’s easy as pie! Sonya thinks I’m a natural. She thinks if I took it up seriously I could go in for competitions, like she does. I might even reach Olympic standard!”

  “She said that?” said Caitlyn.

  Well, she hadn’t quite said that; but she’d certainly been impressed.

  “So are you going to?”

  “What? Take it up seriously?” I gave a little twirl. “Who knows? I might try going again with Sonya. Maybe some time when it’s not so crowded, so I could try a few jumps and spins.”

  Caitlyn didn’t say anything, just pursed her lips.

  “Now what?” I said. “Honestly! You look like you’ve sucked on a lemon!”

  “I can’t help it,” said Caitlyn. “I just think it was really irresponsible of you.”

  I blinked. “Oh,” I said. “Well! Thank you very much. Some support that is.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “but sometimes it seems like you’ve just had everything too easy. You’ve never had to fight for it like the rest of us. Being a dancer, being at ballet school … you just take it for granted. It doesn’t mean that much to you.”

  Such cheek! How did she know how much it meant to me?

  “It means every bit as much,” I said.

  “That’s what you say,” said Caitlyn. “But if it really meant as much to you as it does to me you wouldn’t be prepared to run the risk of messing it all up.”

  Messing it all up? What on earth was she on about? All I’d wanted to do was try something different!

  “I just wanted to prove that I could do it,” I said.

  “You mean you just wanted to show Livi and Jordan that you were as good as Sonya.”

  “Oh, please!” I said. Why should I care about Livi and Jordan? What did they know about skating? Nothing! Any more than they knew about ballet.

  “It’s true,” insisted Caitlyn. “You should have seen your face when they kept going on about Sonya and how brilliant she was.”

  “Should have seen yours!” I retorted. I remembered the looks we’d exchanged. It wasn’t only me.

  “Actually,” said Caitlyn, “I thought it was quite funny, to tell you the truth. You were getting all steamed up and they had no idea; they just went babbling on.”

  “Ha ha, it must have been very amusing,” I said.

  “Well, it was for me,” agreed Caitlyn. “But then I wasn’t the one they were always boasting about. Always telling everybody how they were friends with you, and how your mum and dad were famous, and your brother was Sean O’Brien, and—”

  “Oh,” I cried, “I never realised you were so jealous!”

  I didn’t give her a chance to reply, just turned and stalked off. It was the nearest we had ever come to a quarrel. It didn’t help that deep down I suspected Caitlyn could be right. It wasn’t so much that I’d wanted to try something new as that I’d resented the way Livi and Jordan had switched their loyalty from me to Sonya. But that didn’t mean she had to turn on me the way she had! Unless all this time she’d been resenting me? Except why should she? I’d never boasted about my family! And if it hadn’t been for them – well, Mum and Sean – and me – she would never have had ballet lessons in the first place. How could she be so mean? After all I’d done to help her?

  I was still seething when I turned up for another boring clown rehearsal only to have Carey come storming over to me in some kind of demented rage. I stared at her in astonishment. What was her problem?

  “Madeleine O’Brien,” she said, “I am absolutely livid with you!”

  I said, “Why?” What was I supposed to have done?

  “Did you know that Miki Karashima’s gone down with glandular fever and won’t be well enough to come back until next term?”

  Bemused, I shook my head.

  “I’ve just asked Miss Hickman if now she’ll let me have you for the part of the Spanish Doll and guess what?” She was practically spitting, she was so angry. “She still says I can’t!”

  “If it’s because of my wrist,” I said, “it’s only a bruise! It’ll be gone in a day or two.”

  “Try telling that to Miss Hickman. She seems to think I’ll be lucky if I can keep you as a Clown.”

  “But it’s just a bruise!” I cried. I desperately hadn’t wanted to be a Clown, but I had to be something. I couldn’t not have a part in the end-of-term Gala!

  “What shall I do?” I stared rather wildly at Carey. “Should I go and talk to her?”

  “Be my guest,” said Carey. “Just don’t blame me if she freezes you out. She’s in a really foul mood! You’ve obviously done something to
upset her.”

  I said, “I haven’t done anything!”

  “Well, OK, give it a go and see what happens. I’ll say one thing,” said Carey, “you might be a pain, but you’ve got a lot of guts. Just as well,” she added, “cos you’re certainly going to need them!” She turned and clapped her hands. “Right, you guys! Let’s get started. And just remember, it’s meant to be funny.”

  I was pleased Carey thought I had guts, but truth to tell even I shrank from the prospect of tackling Miss Hickman in a foul mood. She was never very jolly at the best of times. Certainly not warm and smiley like Miss Eldon, or generous like Mr Alessandro. She could actually be quite mean. Plus I had a sneaking feeling that for some reason she didn’t particularly like me. But I couldn’t just sit back and say nothing! If I’d done something to make her mad at me, I needed to know what it was. What was I supposed to be guilty of? And what had Carey meant when she said she’d asked Miss Hickman if she could now have me for the part of the Spanish Doll? Did that mean I was the one she’d wanted from the start? And if so, why hadn’t Miss Hickman let her? And why had she told Carey that she still couldn’t have me?

  It was the end of the day before I finally nerved myself to go along to the Office and beg Miss Preedy for an appointment. Miss Preedy is Miss Hickman’s secretary. She is very protective, and guards Miss Hickman as if she is some kind of god.

  “Ah, Madeleine,” she said, peering at me over the top of her spectacles. “There you are.”

  She didn’t say it in what could be called an encouraging sort of way. Not like, Ah, Madeleine, how lovely to see you! More like, Ah, Madeleine. YOU.

  Not very comforting.

  She slid her spectacles further down her nose and peered at me a bit more. It was like I was some kind of object that had dragged itself out of the slime.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Please would it be possible,” I said, “to see Miss Hickman?”

  I expected her to snap at me that it most certainly wouldn’t! Miss Hickman was busy, or was in a meeting, or had gone home, and I would have to come back tomorrow. Instead, rather disturbingly, she said that it would be perfectly possible.

  “Miss Hickman wanted to see you, anyway. Let me just check.” She pressed a button on her phone. “I have Madeleine O’Brien here. Would you like me to send her in?”

  I listened, with a growing sense of foreboding. What did Miss Hickman want to see me for? It was supposed to be me wanting to see her!

  “All right, Madeleine.” Miss Preedy waved a hand towards Miss Hickman’s door. “She’ll see you now. You can go in.”

  Just for a moment I had a little burst of hope. Maybe Miss Hickman was going to tell me that alone out of my year I’d been chosen to take part in the Company’s Christmas production of Nutcracker. Maybe that was why Carey had said she’d be lucky to even just have me as a Clown? No wonder she was so cross! A lowly first year dancing with the Company? Messing up her end-of-term production piece?

  It was a beautiful idea, but I think I knew in my heart it was only make-believe. I told myself that I had a lot of guts. Carey had said so! And why anticipate the worst? It might never happen – or so Dad was always telling us. Of course, as Mum was invariably quick to add, if by any chance it did, you just had to be brave and face up to it.

  I was brave! At least, I’d always thought I was. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure.

  I swallowed a lump in my throat and tapped at the door. Miss Hickman’s voice, light and sharp, called, “Come!”

  I hesitated. Across the room, Miss Preedy nodded impatiently and made shooing motions with her hands.

  “Off you go!”

  With an ominous sinking feeling I opened the door – and knew at once that the worst had arrived. My beautiful idea had indeed been make-believe. Whatever Miss Hickman wanted to see me for, it wasn’t to tell me I’d been chosen to dance with the Company.

  “Well, now, Maddy.”

  She gave me a frosty smile. Except that it wasn’t really a smile, more like a slight stretching of the lips. She sat there, straight-backed, cold as a statue, behind her desk. Acres and acres of it, stretching emptily between us. Nothing on it but a telephone, a laptop and a neat pile of folders. Not even a photograph, to show she was human.

  “Sit down, please.”

  There were three chairs in the room. Two were plump and comfortable, one was hard and uninviting. The one she waved me to was the hard and uninviting one. I perched myself uneasily on the extreme edge – and immediately started to slide off. Miss Hickman watched, without saying anything, as I wriggled myself back on.

  “If you’re finally settled? Good! Then let us proceed. I wanted to see you, Maddy. I’ve been thinking for a while now that we should have a talk. This incident with your wrist …”

  I tugged, unobtrusively, at the sleeve of my sweatshirt, trying to pull it down over my hand, but too late. Miss Hickman’s eyes, like chips of ice, had already homed in on it, shooting frost daggers across the desk.

  “I understand that against all advice you insisted on going ice skating and that that is how you injured yourself.”

  I felt my cheeks fire up. Who had told Miss Hickman that I had been ice skating? Nobody knew! A small voice inside me whispered, Caitlyn knew … I pushed the thought to the back of my mind. Caitlyn wouldn’t tell on me!

  “Is this true?” said Miss Hickman.

  I said, “Y-yes, but—”

  “No buts, Maddy! I don’t wish to hear any buts. You were advised not to go, and you insisted on doing so. And at this point in the term! With the Gala coming up. You obviously gave no thought whatsoever to any inconvenience you might cause, especially to poor Carey. I am in two minds whether to let you appear in the Gala at all. I may very well tell her that she will have to find someone else – or make do with one dancer less. I have not yet decided, but I have to warn you that I am strongly tempted. It will be hard on her; I’ve already had to disappoint her once. She originally wanted you for the more showy part of the Spanish Doll – for which, of course, you are very well suited. You might find it instructive to know why, that being the case, I vetoed the suggestion. Frankly,” said Miss Hickman, “it was nothing to do with your ability, but rather your commitment. You have yet to convince me how much it actually means to you, becoming a dancer. I wonder, Maddy—”

  Miss Hickman leaned forward, elbows on the desk, and made a steeple of her hands. She gazed at me sternly over the top of them.

  “I wonder if you have ever asked yourself why it was that we hesitated to take you in the first place? Possibly you never realised that we hesitated. But we did! You were one of our borderline cases. Had it not been for another student opting at the last moment to go elsewhere –” Miss Hickman’s lip curled as she said the word elsewhere – “the probability is that you would not have been offered a place. It seemed to some of us then, as it seems to me now, that your attitude towards your studies is somewhat … how shall I put it? Lacking.”

  I sat in stunned silence. I couldn’t have spoken even if she’d expected me to, which quite obviously she didn’t.

  “Here at City Ballet we ask a great deal of our students,” said Miss Hickman. “We expect total dedication. Nothing less, Maddy, will satisfy us. We can always tell, you know, what a student is thinking. We can spot the one who values outside interests more than the ballet. The one who starts questioning whether it’s really worth it. It all comes out in their work. Technique can cover a multitude of sins; what it cannot do is disguise the basic attitude. Do you have anything to say in your defence?”

  I clutched with both hands at the seat of my chair. “I’m-very-sorry-I-went-skating-I-just-wanted-to-see-if-I-could-do-it!”

  The words shot out of me. Miss Hickman’s eyebrows rose, incredulously, into her hairline.

  “You never stopped to think what would happen if you injured yourself? You never gave so much as a second’s thought to Carey and her ballet. Did you?”

  Dumbly I shook my
head.

  “She’s devoted so much of her time and energy to this project, it means so much to her, and now – well! As I say, I am still considering my options. I am even forced to consider whether you are in fact suitable material for CBS at all. I should be loath to ask your parents to remove you, especially given their close ties to the Company, but unless I see a marked improvement over the coming term I may well feel I have no choice. For the moment my main concern is the Gala and whether you should be allowed to take part. I have to tell you that my inclination is strongly against it. I shall ponder the question and let you know. Now …” She waved a hand, dismissing me. “Go!”

  As I left Miss Hickman’s room, my eyes fixed firmly on the outer door, Miss Preedy called after me. “All right?”

  She sounded concerned, like maybe she knew what Miss Hickman had been going to say and was feeling sorry for me. Miss Preedy! Actually feeling sorry.

  I didn’t trust my voice enough to attempt anything in reply. I just made a vague mumbling sound, wrenched open the door and fled.

  It was the end of the day and most people, thank goodness, had already gone home. The last thing I wanted was to bump into someone like Tiffany. I was just glad I’d told Caitlyn not to bother waiting for me cos I honestly didn’t know what I would say to her. If I asked her straight out whether it was her who’d told Miss Hickman about the ice skating, would she admit it? And if I asked her why she’d done it, would she tell me? She could hardly try claiming it wasn’t her, because who else could it have been? There wasn’t anybody else who knew, other than Sonya. Well, and Livi and Jordan. But why would any of them want to tell on me? And how could they have done, anyway? They didn’t even know Miss Hickman.

  I stumbled my way down the stairs towards the main exit. A small group of Company members were also heading there. Sean was among them, but I didn’t call out to him as I normally would. Instead I shrank back into the shadows, waiting for them to go past. I desperately didn’t want to be seen! But then at the last moment, as he was about to follow the others through the door, Sean happened to glance over his shoulder.

  “Mads?” he said. “Is that you?” He closed the door and turned back up the corridor. “Are you OK?”