Abigail: Through the Looking Glass

by Rachel Elliot

  ‘Open the door!’ I demand, banging on the door again.

  ‘It’s not like you to be late for Miss Raine’s class …’ mocks Kat.

  Meddling with my deodorant is one thing, but they can’t mess around with my career. I need to attend these classes!

  ‘I’m not kidding, Kat,’ I reply. ‘Open the door!’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she says. ‘I’m willing to unlock this door and help you maintain your sickeningly perfect attendance record.’

  She slides the room exchange form under the door.

  ‘All you have to do is sign on the dotted line,’ she says.

  I push the form straight back. I’m not going to be blackmailed into anything.

  ‘Not in this lifetime,’ I say.

  The form is slid back under the door. But they don’t realise that phones aren’t the only way to communicate. Tara’s computer is sitting in the corner. All I need to do is send an email and someone will be up here to let me out.

  I sit down in front of the screen and open the email application. I’m just starting to type when I spot the document on Tara’s desktop. It’s called ‘Ethan’. I open it and can hardly believe my eyes. She’s written a list of pros and cons about Ethan!

  This is the perfect way to show them what happens to people who try to stand in my way. It’ll stop them wanting to swap rooms, too. As soon as Kat finds out that Tara’s crushing on her brother, it’ll be the end of their friendship.

  I hit ‘Send’. Everyone at the Academy is going to receive this.

  CHAPTER 3

  ‘Pop quiz,’ says Patrick, our teacher. ‘Who can tell me the real meaning of pas de deux?’

  ‘It means dance of two,’ I say.

  ‘That’s its literal translation,’ he says, ‘but what does it really mean? Beneath the French words? Metaphorically?’

  I feel my cheeks growing hot, wishing that I hadn’t been so quick to answer. I try not to show that I don’t have a clue what he’s talking about.

  ‘Pas de deux: two bodies, one soul,’ he’s saying. ‘A guy and a girl dancing together to produce one pure emotion. That’s what today’s class is all about.’

  It sounds awesome. In my mind’s eye I can already see myself being lifted into the air by my dance partner, creating art and magic on stage together.

  I’m brought back down to Earth by the fact that Patrick’s holding up an egg.

  ‘There are three important ingredients in pas de deux,’ he says.

  He tosses the egg to Christian, the guy who arrived at the Academy late. He’s looking moody and mysterious as usual. He catches the egg and throws it to Kat. She tosses it to Sammy.

  ‘Trust …’ says Patrick as the egg is thrown around, ‘… unity … and … ’

  I catch the egg easily and throw it towards Tara … just as Ethan walks into the studio with Isabelle. Tara turns and the egg splats on the floor.

  ‘… communication,’ says Patrick. ‘Without them … well … ’

  Tara looks as if she wishes the ground would open up beneath her. Kat has forgiven her, but she’s had a rough week, with everyone shouting out quotes from her pros and cons list about Ethan. She’s not speaking to me, which is totally unfair because she basically created the whole problem herself.

  Patrick divides us into pairs. I’m with Sammy. Tara’s got Christian and she doesn’t look happy about it.

  ‘Focus on who you’re dancing with,’ says Patrick. ‘No one else should matter.’

  That’s easy for him to say. He’s not holding Sammy’s warm, moist hands. I wish that I had a stronger partner – he even has to do pointe because his ankles are so weak. But even so, it’s exciting to start learning how to create a partnership, and I enjoy the class until Patrick drops a bombshell on us.

  ‘I’ve arranged with Miss Raine for you to have the rest of the day off from your regular classes,’ he says. ‘Instead, you’ll be doing an exercise for me. Same couples.’

  We each have to choose a slip of paper from his cap. I cannot believe it. Clammy Sammy and I have to be tied together for twenty-four hours!

  I just don’t get it. How is being tied to Sammy supposed to make me a better dancer?

  Sammy seems to want to spend our entire challenge time going on about why I emailed Tara’s list to everyone. At dinner, he’s still talking about it. He’s chosen spaghetti bolognaise, which is swimming in oil. I focus on my small salad.

  ‘It just made you look bad,’ he says. ‘Do you not want people to like you?’

  It’s bad enough that I have to be tied to Sammy – Patrick didn’t say anything about enduring constant criticism. Just because I give as good as I get doesn’t mean I actually want to be attacked all the time. I refuse to engage in the conversation and Sammy slides a plate of spaghetti in front of me.

  ‘Carbs after three?’ I exclaim. ‘I’d rather eat a deep-fried vending machine.’

  Sammy is an idiot. He read the slip of paper wrong – it said two to four hours! Two dash four. I spent the entire night tied to him, with my arm dangling over the edge of the bed and him on the floor. But even that can’t really bring me down when I hear the news that the Company is back.

  When I walk into the studio, Natasha Willis is standing there with Miss Raine. The excitement in the room is electric. Natasha Willis – world famous ballerina, Principal of the National Ballet. Oh yeah, and Kat’s mum.

  Having Natasha Willis as a guest teacher is so awesome that I feel friendlier towards everyone. When I see Sammy in the common room with a girl I don’t recognise, I head over to join them. The girl’s eating pizza. It’s sort of wrong that someone can sit in the Academy and get away with that sort of thing when I try so hard to get thinner.

  ‘Who are you?’ I ask. ‘You don’t go here.’

  ‘How can you tell?’ asks the girl.

  I look at the pizza she’s holding up to her mouth and she laughs. She seems friendly and relaxed. It turns out that her name is Mia, and she’s Sammy’s girlfriend. I’ve heard him mention someone before, but I always kind of got the impression that she was … well … imaginary.

  ‘Would you like some pizza, Abigail?’ she’s asking.

  ‘She doesn’t do carbs after three,’ Sammy puts in.

  I can’t help but smile. He remembered … and that means he pays more attention to me than I imagined. Maybe there was a point to Patrick’s exercise after all. I need my dance partner to listen to what I say.

  Another thing that will help me become a better dancer is watching the Company perform. They’re doing Swan Lake tonight and I’m desperate to see it! I hear Sammy has tickets, and I find him sitting on the stairs, staring miserably at his phone.

  ‘I heard you had some tickets to this afternoon’s performance,’ I say.

  ‘I wouldn’t, you know, ask,’ I continue, ‘but for some reason I haven’t been able to source any. Which is irritating because it’s Swan Lake and that’s something I’ve obviously got to see.’

  Sammy has zoned out, slack-jawed and glazed over. He’s staring at me as if I’m an alien.

  ‘So?’ I say, after a moment’s silence.

  ‘Yes,’ he exclaims. ‘We can absolutely go to the ballet together!’

  I’m not sure why he’s shouting it – but at least I have a ticket.

  I’m already in the common room when Sammy arrives alone. He gabbles something about my dress and then seems to want to leave.

  ‘Where’s Mia?’ I ask.

  ‘Hmmm?’ He’s doing that weird look again.

  ‘Your girlfriend?’ I remind him.

  ‘Oh,’ he says. ‘No, it’s just us two today. I think she’s coming down with something.’

  He chokes and coughs.

  ‘Nothing contagious,’ he adds. ‘I’m not sick. Mint blockage.’

  Suddenly, Mia bounds into the common room.

  ‘Sammy!’ she cries. ‘You are seriously going to love me. There wasn’t a ticket left on the planet,’ Mia’s saying, ‘but Dad knows th
is guy who pulls strings.’

  She hands him the tickets and looks at me.

  ‘You look nice, Abigail,’ she says. ‘Are you going to the ballet as well?’

  All I can do is nod. I can see exactly what Sammy’s done, and it sucks. Why would he lie to Mia like that?

  ‘Together?’ she asks, her eyes full of hurt.

  Sammy won’t even look at her. Mia’s face crumples.

  ‘Silly me,’ she says softly.

  She turns and walks out of the common room. I look at Sammy. At least he has the grace to look guilty.

  ‘If they’re going to waste …’ I say, looking at the tickets.

  He holds them out, and I take them and leave the room. I’m not going to get caught up in other people’s melodramas.

  CHAPTER 4

  It’s the biggest betrayal in the world when your own body turns against you.

  I’m staring into the mirror, trying to will it not to be true. I’ve put a flesh-coloured boob tube over the top of my sports bra, but if they carry on growing, that won’t be enough to flatten them.

  Why does this have to happen now? I feel like crying, but Tara might walk in and see. We don’t speak much any more, and she might use it against me.

  I tighten my lips, lift my chin higher, and pull on my leotard. It’s no good – I can see them through it. I’m just going to have to keep my crossover on in class. It’s baggy enough to cover these things up.

  I should have known Miss Raine would notice.

  ‘Abigail, you’re out of uniform.’

  ‘I’m still a little cold,’ I say.

  ‘Were you here for warm up?’ she raps out.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then take that thing off,’ she says. ‘I need to be able to correct your body. Unless of course you think I have nothing to teach you?’

  ‘Of course not, Miss Raine,’ I think fast, ‘it’s just I think I might be coming down with something. I feel a bit shivery.’

  ‘Miss Armstrong,’ she says, in a dangerous tone, ‘you are either ready to work or at the doctor. Which is it?’

  I know she’s expecting me to take the crossover off, but I just can’t – not with everyone staring like this. I turn, leave the studio and head for the doctor’s office.

  Doctor Wicks checks my glands, but of course everything’s fine. I’m about to jump down from the examination bed when she says, ‘Slip your crossover off and I’ll check your lungs.’

  ‘Is that necessary?’ I ask. ‘It’s more of a head cold.’

  I force out a cough and hope it sounds convincing.

  ‘I need to check that your lungs are clear,’ she says.

  ‘Well can’t you do it on top? It’s freezing in here.’

  Apparently not. Is she trying to be difficult? I wriggle out of the crossover, hating her – hating my body – hating Miss Raine – hating every second of this. I can see my reflection in the mirror. I look pale and miserable and … unsurprisingly … kind of cross.

  Dr Wicks pulls down the back of my leotard and pauses.

  ‘That sports bra’s fairly tight,’ she says. ‘Maybe you should go up a size?’

  Suddenly I know how a caged animal feels when it’s being poked with a stick.

  ‘Maybe I didn’t come here for fashion advice.’

  I feel the cold stethoscope against my back. How dare she interfere in what I decide to wear?

  ‘Not that it’s any of your business,’ I carry on, fighting to control the anger in my voice, ‘but I’m the same size I’ve always been.’

  ‘Well, your lungs are clear.’

  Why can’t she just do what I want?

  ‘But I still have a head cold, right?’ I say. ‘I don’t want to make it worse.’

  She’s looking at me with pity. How dare she pity me.

  ‘Abigail, you do know that for your height and weight you’re in perfect proportion, don’t you?’ she says. ‘It’s normal to be developing. Most girls–’

  I can’t listen to another word.

  ‘I’m not developing and I’m certainly not most girls,’ I state.

  I arrive in class early and find Miss Raine alone. I’ve decided exactly what I’m going to say. I just hope it works.

  ‘The doctor said I’m well enough to dance,’ I tell Miss Raine, ‘but as a medical precaution I should keep my crossover on. Just in case I’m coming down with the flu.’

  ‘I’m intrigued to see the note,’ she replies.

  ‘She didn’t put that bit in writing but she asked me to tell you,’ I add quickly.

  ‘The note,’ says Miss Raine, holding out her hand.

  I hand it to her. I can feel prickles down my back as she reads it.

  ‘I don’t know what’s got into you, Abigail,’ she says. ‘All that’s written here is that you present with symptoms not inconsistent with a slight cold. I suppose you can sit the class out.’

  ‘But she said I’m okay to dance …’ I say, trailing off when I see the look in her eyes.

  ‘Then you will abide by my uniform code.’

  There are so many mirrors in this studio. Everywhere I look I can see my reflection. I just want to blot it out. I can’t let Miss Raine see what’s happening to my body.

  I go and sit down in the corner as the other girls pile into class. They’re staring at me, but I don’t care. I’m not giving anyone the chance to laugh at me.

  People who say that things seem better after you sleep on them are crazy. I hardly sleep a wink all night, and in the morning the whole situation seems more impossible than ever. If I can’t keep my body under control, I’m finished as a dancer. And ballet is my life, which basically means that my life is over.

  As soon as Tara leaves the room, I go to the mirror, peel down the top half of my leotard, and face the truth. The tears just pour down my face – it’s like staring at failure.

  The door opens and Kat strides in.

  ‘Tiara, mascara wand down,’ she says. ‘We’re gonna be late for breakfast.’

  ‘Get out!’ I yell at her, dragging up my leotard and dashing the tears from my cheeks.

  ‘Whoa, banshee!’ she says.

  ‘You have no right to barge into people’s rooms like that!’ I say, trying to get a hold on myself.

  Kat shuts the door as I pull on my crossover.

  ‘Leave me alone, Kat,’ I say, feeling suddenly exhausted.

  Kat grabs the tissue box and passes me one.

  ‘Come on,’ she says. ‘I’ve known you since we were five and you’ve never walked out of class.’

  I blow my nose. ‘You are the last person who’d understand.’

  ‘Well then, for the sake of the exercise, pretend I’m someone else.’

  ‘You want to know what’s wrong?’ I say, letting the anger sweep over me. ‘Tell me what you see?’

  I pull open my crossover and show her. Kat shrugs.

  ‘A really boring leotard?’ she says.

  ‘Like you haven’t noticed.’

  ‘Honestly, you look exactly the same,’ she insists.

  Is she blind?

  ‘What about these?’ I point to my chest.

  ‘That’s what you’re stressing about?’ she asks, sounding astonished. ‘Abigail, they don’t look any different.’

  I don’t believe her.

  ‘Anyway,’ she continues, ‘I have “these”. I have bigger “these”. Thankfully.’

  ‘But I’m going to be a principal dancer and principals don’t,’ I explain. ‘They just don’t. They’re ethereal. They’re like … ’

  I can’t bring myself to say it.

  ‘Who?’ asks Kat. ‘Tara?’

  I can’t reply, but she knows she’s guessed right. I feel so stupid.

  ‘They don’t all have flat chests. Take my mum, for example.’

  ‘Natasha is a genetic freak; she’s one in a million,’ I snap.

  For once, she doesn’t bite back.

  ‘Abi, you have spent years stepping over everyone to
get this far,’ she says. ‘Are you really gonna let a little bit of “this” stop you?’

  ‘You all want me to fail,’ I say. ‘This must be the funniest thing that’s happened in years.’

  ‘Firstly – no matter what you do, Abigail, you are never going to be funny,’ she says in a brisk tone. ‘And secondly – that crossover? You don’t need it.’

  Before I can answer her, she’s gone. Is she right? I look at myself in the mirror again. You can’t trust Kat to tell the truth, and yet there was something in the way she looked at me that made me remember what it was like when we were friends. Suddenly I miss having someone to talk to about things. I look at Tara’s empty bed. Maybe I’m just wired differently than other people. Maybe I’m not cut out to have close friends.

  Kat’s right about one thing. I am not going to let anything or anyone stop me from making my dreams come true. I just never thought that my enemy would turn out to be the person in the mirror.

  CHAPTER 5

  Sammy and I are not working together as dancers. I am trying so hard, I’m focusing all my energy and strength on getting it right, but Sammy still can’t get me airborne.

  ‘I said like a gazelle, not an elephant,’ Miss Raine snaps at me.

  I stumble to the ground. I can’t believe she’s blaming me.

  ‘Go to the back,’ she says. ‘I’m sick of the sight of you.’

  If Sammy can’t raise his game, why should I have to put up with him holding me back? I follow Miss Raine out of class and fall into step beside her.

  ‘I just wanted to say that I see your point entirely,’ I say. ‘It’s clear that I need a new partner.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘I’ve taught Sammy all I can,’ I say. ‘I need someone who’s at my level.’

  ‘Abigail, the problem isn’t just Sammy,’ says Miss Raine.

  I don’t like the way this conversation is going.

  ‘He had to do all the work in the lift because you were a sack of potatoes,’ Miss Raine states.

  Potatoes! Me?

  ‘A dancer who blames her partner isn’t popular in a Company,’ she says. ‘I suggest you assess your own shortcomings.’