by Tonya Plank
“Hey, you okay?” He probably felt the slight tremor.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I laughed, shaking it off.
* * *
The following night was the professional Latin competition. This was the comp most of my friends danced in, and generally the most popular comp among Blackpool fans. And it was the one I got hurt in last year. We had one more night until the showdance championship. At first I hadn’t wanted to go to Latin night, but once I took Jett to see the immense ballroom, I knew I had to. The energy lit the place on fire. And so many of my friends were there. I had to cheer them on—particularly Drew and his new partner. Yes, I would be his loudest, greatest support.
“Whoa, this gives the word ballroom a new meaning.” Jett looked around, taking it all in. “And grandiose, too.” He laughed, shaking his head.
“Yep,” I agreed.
I wore all black—long-sleeved black top, pants, and high boots. And I pulled my hair back. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be seen; I didn’t want to make it about me by dressing fancy, like so many other past champions did. Greta—my former coach and a Blackpool champ for ten years in a row before she retired—wore this floor-length red gown with a high collar that rose halfway to the back of her head. The whole thing was beaded with Swarovski crystals. She looked like Queen Elizabeth I. Everyone applauded like crazy when she entered. No matter who won tonight, she was still the star. On second thought, the star might have been Imelda—the champion throughout the entire eighties into the mid-nineties—who had her hair piled into a crown on the top of her head, her immaculate bun likewise beaded with diamonds. She wore an emerald gown with a several-foot long train. She got a standing ovation when she entered.
“This is a hoot!” Jett chuckled. “I mean, I watched all those Blackpool DVDs, but there’s so much they don’t show.”
“You haven’t been to Blackpool until you’ve literally been to Blackpool,” I agreed.
“Hey, isn’t that your old coach?” He pointed to Greta.
“Sure is!”
“She looks…like I’ve never seen her!”
Luna and Cheryl were here. I hadn’t seen them yet, but I could sense them. They always came. Those women were toxic, and that toxicity just permeated the air. I felt it, I swear.
“Okay, I understand why the former champs are dressed to the nines, but why are they so dressed up?”
“Who?” I asked, but didn’t have to. I knew he’d seen them.
He pointed to two women standing in an aisle about three rows down from us. “They look like nominees for an Academy Award.” He cackled. I followed his finger to see he was totally point on. Luna wore a long gold dress with a short train, studded with sparkly things—probably actual diamonds, knowing her. She stood next to her cohort, Cheryl, who donned a red full-length satin number that was so tight it looked like she might suffocate. Yes, they totally looked like they were at the Oscars. Fans and students didn’t dress like that—that look was reserved for ballroom royalty. They both looked ridiculous. I watched as people glanced at them, thinking they were someone famous, only to look away in confusion upon seeing an unrecognizable face peeking out of the top of the gown.
“They mistakenly think they own the place,” I said, and right then caught Luna’s beady eye. “Let’s go to the other side. I think Drew may be over there.”
“Whatever you say, sweet. You’re the queen here.” Jett kissed the crown of my head.
“Arabelle, is that you?” called out a voice I recognized but couldn’t place at first. I looked over. It was Trudy Glenn, a former showdance champion from England. She was eighty now, and she looked gorgeous. She was definitely my model for aging. She always had the sweetest, most genuine smile. She was dressed in a skirt and blouse now. Tomorrow night would be her night to glam it up. “It is you!” she rushed toward me with open arms.
“Ms. Glenn!” I walked quickly toward her, equally open-armed.
“You look really beautiful, dear. I’m so glad you’re back. They told me you might not be here this year, and I was just heartbroken. I thought, ‘She has to come back and dance something, even another solo.’ You’re just too beautiful a dancer to miss.” She patted me on the back as I tried hard to hold back the tears. The past champions were the sweetest, most endearing people. They were done with their competition careers, secure in their legacies, and could see only the beauty in the current crop. Their vision was completely uncorrupted by jealousy or competitiveness.
“Thank you so much. You don’t know what it means to me to hear you say that, Ms. Glenn.”
She held my shoulders and looked me straight in the eye. She opened her mouth to speak but then closed it. I could tell she wanted to ask me how it was going, how I was doing. But maybe she saw the hint of a tear in my eye and thought the better of it. She’d lost her husband years ago and she knew what it was like. That it wasn’t something you ever got over or recovered from. It doesn’t mean you don’t go on living your life, of course. But the question ‘how are you’ after something like that is just too loaded.
She brushed her fingers along the bottom of my chin. “Well, I’m delighted you’re here. It just wouldn’t be Blackpool without you.”
I closed my eyes to blink the tears away. She squeezed my hand.
“You are so kind,” I said.
“And honest,” she said.
I glimpsed her eyeing Jett. “Oh, this is my partner, Jett. Jett, this is Trudy Glenn, showdance champion for the entire 70s!”
She gave him a polite nod and took his hand in hers.
“Such an honor to meet you,” he said, giving her a magnanimous little bow. Yes, Jett could be quite the charmer, which in this instance, made me proud.
“Now, I haven’t seen what you can do yet, young man, but if Arabelle Fonseca has chosen you, you are clearly the best male show dancer out there.” The way she said it, so bluntly and as if it was the objective truth and there couldn’t possibly be any contradiction, made me giggle. His boyish smile brightened his entire face and shot a bolt of lightning down my spine. Ugh, that was going to happen again?
“Thank you so much, Miss,” he said, a little blush now crawling across his cheeks. I loved how he called her ‘miss.’
Ms. Glenn’s very presence, her kind words to me and to Jett, her understanding look at me, and her decision not to ask if I was ‘okay,’ all made me just that—okay. More than okay. I was here, at Blackpool, now, and with Jett. We were about to dance, just like Trudy had once danced, and just as I had once danced with Willem. Time all blends together and the past is not really past.
Trudy kissed me on the cheek and squeezed my hand once more, before bidding Jett and me adieu in her elegant English way until tomorrow night.
I heard whispers, giggles begin. People had heard us greet each other, heard our names. I saw heads turning all around me.
“There she is!”
“She’s here!”
“Is she dancing with that guy?”
“He’s hot!”
“She looks awesome!”
I was shocked, but delightfully so. I heard no one saying, “Remember what happened last year? It’s so sad. Remember Willem? It’s so sad what happened to him.” I heard none of the tragic, I heard only the happy chatter. I felt like thanking each and every one of them. Instead, I just smiled to myself, gave a few nods and pleasant grins, and reached for Jett’s hand, pulling him to the other side of the ballroom to find Drew.
“That was fun.” Jett kissed my head. “I’m clearly with the biggest celebrity here.”
“Hardly.” I laughed. “Especially tonight. Wait until the competition actually begins.”
With that, the emcee announced the beginning of the first heat. The room went completely silent. I spotted Drew and his new partner, Carolina.
“There!” I squealed, pointing. I was suddenly very excited. The lights in the seating area dimmed and the crowd began to roar.
The emcee started announcing the numbers of the co
mpetitors. Thankfully, there were enough heats that we had plenty of time to work our way around the ballroom, to the standing area nearest Drew. Michaela and Jonathan, last year’s second place finalists, were announced and the crowd went completely wild. They were the contestants most likely to win tonight, since Sasha and Rory were out due to Rory’s pregnancy.
“See!” I shouted to Jett.
He laughed. “Yeah, I do. Again, it’s so different being here. You definitely don’t get the full effect on tape!”
When Drew’s number was called, I screamed as loudly as I could. There were some roars, but not as loud as those for Michaela and Jonathan. He wasn’t as well known, being a newer contender.
“Andrew, Carolina, go, go, go!” I screamed, pounding the air. Jett echoed me, hooting and whistling.
“Oh yeah, that’s the guy who danced with Arabelle last year. And they almost won!” I heard someone say.
“Yeah, he placed third. Keep your eye on them, they’re going to be finalists!” Another voice said.
“Is that Arabelle?” I could feel fingers pointing, but they were pointing in a good way. Soon, there was so much screaming and roaring that, with the music bellowing, I couldn’t think. There was no contemplation about the past, about what I was doing here, just that I was. With Jett. He squeezed my hand right then, as if he could read my thoughts. I squeezed back.
About a quarter of the way through the competition, I led him outside to get some air and a bite to eat. There wasn’t a huge food choice in Blackpool. There were a few good restaurants inside the Gardens, but everyone went there. A few blocks away, there was a little Italian bistro. It was by far the best place food- and atmosphere-wise, and it wasn’t frequented by as many competitors as the Japanese place, also nearby. Still not wanting to run into too many people yet, I took Jett there.
“Sweet,” he said as the waitress took us to a rather romantic, candlelit table in the back.
Don’t get any ideas, I thought. “The food is very good. And it’s away from the maddening crowd,” I said, perhaps sounding more defensive than I’d intended to.
“I know, I know,” he said. But then he flashed me those dimples, and my insides melted.
And then, it had to happen. The door opened, and in she whizzed—Natalia, dressed in a body-hugging crimson dress with the highest patent leather black pumps I think I’d ever seen. She fixed her eyes right on me. It was like she knew I was here before she came in. She was with only Duke, no Cheryl or Luna. At least, not right now.
“What is it?” Jett turned around to follow my gaze. “Oh shit. Pay her no mind, Arabelle.”
“Of all the places to go for dinner. And so early. I brought us far from the ballroom and well before dinner time specifically to avoid something like this,” I murmured, more to myself than to Jett. In all the years Willem and I had come here, I’d never seen her in here. She’d followed us; I was sure of it.
The waitress went to seat her and Duke on the opposite side of the restaurant. Oh good, I thought. But the fact that she plopped her bag on her seat, held a finger up to the waitress, and walked in our direction made it more than clear to me that she was here to harass us. Ugh.
“Just wanted to say hello, Arabelle.” Her voice was high-pitched and squeaky, as if she was trying to be cute.
“Hello and goodbye,” Jett said, not turning around.
“Well, that wasn’t very nice at all.” She acted aghast. “I’m just trying to be the big person here and congratulate you on showing up.”
I frowned. What did she mean? Jett was buttering his bread, completely ignoring her.
“Showing up?” I shouldn’t have encouraged her, I knew it.
“Yes, I mean, your injury was serious.” She looked at Jett, who was still focused on his bread, ignoring her. “I doubt you are actually at your top form now. But that’s how some people just are…”
“Mmm, bread is pretty good. Soft and warm,” Jett said to me. It made me giggle. But Natalia wasn’t getting the hint. She wasn’t leaving.
“And I know how hard it must be for you here. This is your first year without Willem. Well, your second I guess, but the first where you are actually competing with someone else in the same competition. That must be hard, trying to overcome his memory to be able to dance adequately with his replacement. In fact, it must be so hard to think of replacing him.” Her words sounded completely rehearsed. “But, I saw you earlier today and you look so happy to be here. Getting over Willem must not have been as hard as I thought. Not as hard as it would have been for me, anyway…”
She kept going on but her words weren’t registering anymore. Hearing her say Willem’s name produced a slow coldness dripping down my spine, beginning in my chest then getting heavier as it made its way to my stomach, flooding every internal organ along the way. The words “memory,” “replacement,” and “overcome” struck my soul like an icepick, piercing my center and shocking every nerve. I began to tremble, but not just my hands. My entire being, beginning in my core, and emanating everywhere.
Jett saw what was happening to me and pushed his chair back so quickly and with such force that he ran right into her. The back of his chair hit her in the crotch and she nearly fell backward.
“Oh my god, what are you doing? You—” She stumbled, having to back away quickly or he would have accidentally run over her foot.
“What the hell were you doing there? You were on top of us,” he roared. “I actually got some of your spit on my face.”
His voice bellowed so loudly, she actually did stumble over her heel and fell backward.
“Now, get back to your little boy over there and stop harassing us. You are not to approach her again. Do you hear me?”
There was nothing but silence in the restaurant. Everyone was looking. Now Natalia was the one trembling. She tried to get up but couldn’t seem to. So, she scooted on her hands and heels as quickly as she could back to her table. She looked like a crab. Duke remained glued to his chair, open-mouthed. I don’t know if he was too scared to get up, but he did nothing to help her. Then I saw Cheryl and Luna peering into the restaurant through the window. They were both open-mouthed, but their faces looked like they were feigning shock.
Jett sat back down. He grabbed my hands across the table, his palms surrounding mine, his thumbs caressing my wrists. “Belle, you can’t let her get to you. You know she’s only trying to sabotage us by getting to you mentally. They know we can beat them and they’re stopping at nothing to try to win.”
“You, you twisted my ankle. If I can’t dance, it’s because of you,” Natalia shrieked.
“Stop making stupid excuses for yourself,” Jett said without looking back.
She continued to shriek and moan.
I nodded. He was right, and I knew it. But I still couldn’t stop shaking.
Chapter 37
Jett
If Natalia wasn’t a woman, I’d have punched her right in her obnoxious little face. Yeah, I know, violence isn’t the answer, but sometimes you just have to shut someone up. And now she’d gone and screwed with Arabelle’s mind, which was far worse than screwing with her physically. She knew she couldn’t beat us. So she took the only route she could—a low, low blow.
But she wasn’t going to win. No way. I tried to calm Belle down over dinner, but every time I saw that fork rise from her plate of lasagna to her beautiful lips shaking like it was possessed, I had to calm myself down.
“You’re not seriously taking in anything she said, right? I mean, you know her words are worthless. She’s only trying to do whatever she can to screw us up. She’s a low life. We’re so far above her, it’s not even funny.” I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t know what to say about Willem and our partnership having nothing to do with disrespecting his memory. I was afraid I’d screw it up, so I just focused on Natalia being a total coward.
Arabelle nodded. “I know that. Of course I do.” She looked out the window. “Her words about Willem initially stung, and
then I forced them aside. I don’t feel guilty for dancing with you after Willem. Willem wants that. I don’t know how to explain how I know that, but I do.”
I put down my fork and wrapped my hand around hers. She smiled, still looking out the window.
“But then I started remembering the accident. My accident, I mean. Seeing Natalia fall actually brought back those memories from last year of the Latin competition, of when I fell. And then I saw the faces of Luna and Cheryl peering through the front window and I just—”
“Yeah, I saw them too.”
“It makes me think they’re up to something, which unnerves me.”
“Belle, they’re harmless here. That’s what you and Alessia said, right? That they have no power here.”
She nodded. “Yes, that’s true.”
“Belle, we can’t let them get to us. That’s what they want. They want you to shake, they want us to wobble. We have to be strong and solid and impenetrable.”
She already seemed to know that. She was smiling and I felt her hand starting to lose some of its jitteriness. Not all, but some. I knew we could do it. “That’s my girl.” I drew her hand toward me and gave it a big kiss.
“Jett, I don’t know…I don’t know that the tremor was ever about Willem. He knows I’m here, and I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel that he’s happy I’m here, that we’re here. It’s nothing tangible, but I can sense it.”
“Senses are so much more profound than physicality, Arabelle. Of course he’s happy that you’re here doing what you love, what your passion is, what you were put on this earth to do. How could he not be? He loves you.”
She closed her eyes and smiled.
We finished our dinner without talking about or looking at Natalia and company. Coven was more like it. We walked out, hand in hand. And Arabelle’s hand wasn’t shaking one bit.
