‘No,’ said Lucas, giggling. ‘Got a scratch when I fell off the monkey bars.’ His eyes teared up at the memory of it.
‘Awesome bandaid,’ I said. ‘You look like a warrior who’s been fighting a dinosaur!’ Lucas is obsessed with dinosaurs and swords at the moment, so I really couldn’t have told him anything better.
‘Rawr!’ he said, shaking his moppy blond hair. He swiped his imaginary claws at me and then looked at his knee proudly. I guess that’s as good as it gets when you’re in prep.
‘I fell over today, too,’ I said. ‘Right on my bum.’
Lucas giggled. Thanks for the sympathy. ‘You all right, love?’ asked Mum. ‘You didn’t hurt yourself?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘It was so embarrassing, though. There’s a new girl who started, too. Her name’s Ashley. She’s really good.’
‘Maybe you can make friends with her?’ suggested Mum.
‘Maybe,’ I said.
But I didn’t mean it. First I had to see how good Ashley was. Silver Shoes was my dance school and no one was going to steal my spotlight.
Chapter Five
Technique class was on Thursday, the next day. Technique class is important, but it can also be boring – I’m talking lots of stretching, strengthening, and working on jumps and leaps. But you have to do it if you want to be in the competition troupes.
The hip hop teacher, Jay, also brings in mats and we work on acrobatic skills. I have to admit, I’m not the best at ‘tricks’. That’s because I need to work on my flexibility. I practise at home sometimes, but last year I tried to backflip onto my bed, and I broke the plaster on the wall and sprained my toe. I told Mum it was her fault for buying cheap beds, and if I had an expensive one, like Paige, it would have supported me better. But Mum just said: ‘There’s no support for idiocy.’ And then I couldn’t dance for a couple of weeks because of my toe.
Geez. A double dose of bad luck and all because I was trying to work on my career. Life is so unfair sometimes.
Technique class is compulsory for every student who wants to be in the competition troupes. You also have to do at least two other classes per week. I do jazz on Wednesdays and lyrical on Saturday mornings. When there’s a competition coming up, we also have an extra practice. Miss Caroline says if we’re serious about dance, we should be taking classes every day. I’ve tried to talk to Mum about doing more, but every time I bring it up she has to go prepare for her next class or check her emails or something. You’d think she’d want her daughter to succeed in life, but no.
When Paige and I walked into technique class, I really wanted to make up for falling on my bum yesterday. I noticed Ashley sitting with Riley. Paige and I don’t go to the same school as Riley, but we’ve all been in dance class together since we were tinies. Some people think Riley’s a bit snooty, but she’s got nothing on Jasmine.
Riley’s family is from Fiji – that’s so cool, I wish I came from somewhere interesting like that. Sometimes when people ask me I pretend that I’m from America, because that’s where all the famous dancers are.
Riley is tall with super long legs and this afro hair that she often wears in two braids. She’s an awesome dancer, but I get annoyed with her sometimes. She always gets into performance troupes because she’s got great technique, but she misses so many classes because she’s on about a hundred sporting teams. I haven’t missed one.
‘Hey,’ said Riley, waving to us. ‘You guys remember Ashley?’
Ashley had a hole in the bottom of her tights that had been mended with cotton but started to rip again. She was also missing her ballet flats. ‘They’re getting resoled,’ she said quickly, when I asked about them.
Miss Caroline likes us to look proper in technique class. Remember those boring pastel leotards I was talking about? Well, technique class makes all my worst nightmares come true.
‘How come you moved to Bayside?’ I asked Ashley.
‘My parents got new jobs,’ Ashley said.
‘What school do you go to?’ I asked.
‘Bayside Primary,’ said Ashley.
‘Yuck,’ I said. ‘Bayslime Primary. Why did you come to Silver Shoes?’
Riley started laughing. ‘Maybe you should ask her what brand undies she wears as well.’
‘I don’t wear any,’ Ashley said.
Paige looked shocked.
‘She’s joking, aren’t you, Ash?’ said Riley.
Ash? What, were they best friends already or something?
‘It’s not a good idea to go without undies when you’re wearing a leotard,’ I said, grabbing Paige. ‘They go right up your bum and no one wants to see that kind of wedgie.’ I hauled on Paige’s arm. ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s go warm up.’
‘Guys, it was a joke,’ Riley said to our backs.
Well, guess what, Riley? Some people don’t have time for jokes. Some people have their eyes on the prize. Some people don’t want to get called last for the performance troupe.
I had work to do.
Chapter Six
Miss Caroline called an extra rehearsal every week for the performance troupe. That meant that instead of class on Wednesday and Thursday nights and Saturday mornings, I was now also practising after school on Fridays. I didn’t mind. I was in my element.
Miss Caroline taught us the whole dance in one lesson. Does that sound crazy to you? Maybe. But don’t forget we were the performance troupe. We’d all been in competitions before, and we were the best dancers (for our age group) at Silver Shoes. You’d be surprised at what you can learn in two-and-a-half hours.
The choreography was amazing. Miss Caroline had picked ‘You Can’t Stop the Beat’ from the musical Hairspray. It was this fast, bouncy rock and roll music, and it was so upbeat when she first started playing it that we all started dancing on the spot.
I loved the choreography. It was really jazzy and jivey and it also had a bit of swing in it, which I’d seen on one of my favourite dancing reality TV shows. Miss Caroline already had mock costumes to show us – they were these cute tank sleeve dresses, a different colour for each girl, and made out of awesome shimmery material. A couple of layers of tulle made the skirts flare out at the waist.
The dance was fun but hard. Miss Caroline had us doing jazz, swing, partner work and also using a lot of technique for all the lifts and jumps we had to do. Riley and Jasmine absolutely shone at that, of course.
And guess what? Ashley was really good at it, too.
‘I did a bit of gymnastics when I was younger, before I started dancing,’ she told me, while we were having a water break. ‘Then Mum told me I had to pick between the two.’
‘Why couldn’t you just do both?’ I asked.
‘Well, I don’t want to show everyone up by being good at everything!’
I knew she was just joking around, but I felt like she’d avoided the question. I tried really hard in the dance. My axle jumps might not have been perfect, but I did them, every single time. And when we were doing a swizzle move, I almost face-planted into the floor. Riley, my partner, started laughing.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but you were swinging so hard on my hand.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said. ‘Let’s just do it again.’
And we did. When I was sure I’d nailed all the choreography, I focused on just having fun with the song, and getting caught up in the energy of the music.
It paid off.
At the end of the class, Miss Caroline told us our positions for the dance. You know where Riley and I were? Yep, right in the middle, up the front. That’s the best position for any group dance. Behind us, to either side, were Tove and Jasmine and Bethany and Paige. Ashley and Serah were at the back. I tried not to be too happy about that.
But the best news came after class. As everyone was drifting out, Miss Caroline called me over. ‘You worked really hard today, Ellie,’ she said. ‘I was very impressed with your energy.’
‘Thank you, Miss Caroline,’ I said. I bet you regret p
icking me last, I thought to myself.
‘I’d love for you to do a solo at Jazz Groove,’ Miss Caroline said. ‘I’ve got a fun jazz number I think would be perfect for you. Would you like that?’
Do I really need to tell you that I said YES?
But it wasn’t until later that I found out Jasmine and Ashley had been given a solo, too.
Chapter Seven
On Saturday after dance class I decided to take ownership of the kitchen.
First I searched the fridge for vegetables. Then I went to the freezer and got out some crumbed fish – it said lemon flavour and I don’t really like lemon, but sometimes you gotta make sacrifices. Then I went through the pantry and dragged out all the healthy-looking food I could find.
Mum came in, of course, and ruined it. It was her own fault because she told me she was teaching BodyPump all day at the gym. ‘What’s burning?’ she yelled as she came down the hall. ‘Eleanor? What are you up to?’
‘What are you up to?’ Lucas mimicked behind her.
I was mashing up a banana when she came into the kitchen.
‘My god, Eleanor!’ she said. ‘What are you doing? It looks like a bomb went off in here. Where’s your dad?’
‘He’s in the garden,’ I said. ‘Not now, Mum.’
‘What do you mean, not now?’ Mum asked. ‘Did he say you could do this?’
‘He didn’t say I couldn’t,’ I said.
Mum crossed her arms. ‘Eleanor.’
‘I’ve got a dance competition coming up!’ I said. ‘Miss Caroline gave me a solo! I need to be healthy and strong or I won’t win. I heard some of the older girls talking at Silver Shoes this morning. They called this the “Raw Food Diet”, where you only eat raw foods. And it flushes out toxins.’
‘Oh, Eleanor,’ said Mum. ‘You don’t even know what toxins are!’ She screwed up her nose and ran over to the grill, where I was cooking the fish. Well, more like burning it.
‘Eleanor, you can’t cook fish at 280 degrees,’ she said. ‘And a piece of cooked fish isn’t exactly raw food, is it?’
‘I’m not eating raw fish!’ I squealed. ‘Gross!’ I went fishing with my uncle once and I’ll never forget that cold slimy fish looking up at me from the bucket, blood and ooze dribbling from its mouth. Now I can only eat fish if it comes in the finger variety.
‘The girls said salmon is the healthiest fish you can eat,’ I said. ‘We only had these fish fingers, so I used them.’
‘Well, they’re burnt fingers now,’ said Mum, as she switched the grill off and threw the fish in the bin.
‘Mum!’ I said. ‘Look at this mess!’ she said.
I looked around. The benchtop was covered in half-chopped vegetables, opened packets of nuts, and jars labelled with names like ‘quinoa’. Sure, a lot of the contents were on the bench and not actually in the jars, but it wasn’t that bad. Oh, and then there was a puddle around the blender where I’d pressed the wrong setting and the lid had come off instead of mashing up all the ingredients.
Lucas dipped a finger into the mix before Mum could stop him. ‘Yuck,’ he said. ‘Tastes like poo.’
‘How would you know what poo tastes like?’ I said.
‘Eleanor, clean this up,’ said Mum.
‘But I have to eat it!’ I complained.
They were right, though. It really didn’t look nice. And maybe it didn’t taste like poo, but it sure smelled that way.
‘Don’t be a goose,’ Mum said, wiping Lucas’ hands with a towel. ‘You don’t need to go on a silly diet. You’re ten years old. You’re fit and strong as you are, and you eat healthy meals every night for dinner. I should know. I make them myself.’
‘Can we have sausages for tea?’ asked Lucas, as if that was the right moment to be putting in dinner requests.
‘Maybe,’ Mum told him.
‘I’m hungry,’ I said. ‘I have to eat something.’
‘Look,’ said Mum, ‘clean this mess up and I’ll make you some pancakes for lunch.’
Cheater. She knew pancakes were my favourite food.
‘I want pancakes!’ said Lucas.
‘Mum,’ I said. ‘I’m supposed to be eating raw food.’
‘I’ll put some berries on top,’ she said. ‘That is, if you haven’t used them all in this mess.’ She poked around until she found a mixed punnet of strawberries, blueberries and raspberries. ‘Success!’
‘Success!’ mimicked Lucas. ‘Pancakes, pancakes!’
‘Well?’ said Mum. ‘Do we have a deal?’
‘I guess,’ I said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic.
‘Go and find your dad,’ Mum said. ‘Maybe he’ll want some as well.’
‘I want to find him too!’ said Lucas. ‘Give me a piggyback, Ellie.’
‘Jump on,’ I said, and we headed out to look for dad.
I’m not gonna lie, I was kind of relieved. Pancakes sounded a whole lot better than the mush that had been sitting in the blender before me.
Chapter Eight
Do you ever have that feeling when you’re exercising so hard you actually start to feel a bit sick? It’s like all your lazy parts are hanging out in your throat, ready to come up.
That was me at dance rehearsal.
Miss Caroline was teaching me my solo. She’d choreographed this really high-energy jazz number, sort of cabaret style. I was a cancan dancer, and I had feathers and a hoop that I had to fit into the routine. I really didn’t want to drop the hoop. Imagine if that rolled off the stage and hit one of the judges in the face? How awful. Hopefully if I did drop the hoop it would roll off the stage and trip up Jasmine instead.
The steps in my dance weren’t too complicated, but trying to use my props was the tricky part.
‘You have a very special energy and a great face for dance, Ellie,’ Miss Caroline said. ‘And you’re very theatrical. When you have a solo where you can act through the steps, you really shine. So in this solo I want to see lots of personality, you’ve really got to sell the character.’
Pretending that I was someone else added a whole new element to my dancing. I almost forgot my name was Eleanor Irvin and that I had to work so hard now because I fell on my bum in class last week and was about to be upstaged by some new girl with holes in her tights. Instead I was Celeste, star dancer of the Cabaret Club in Paris, and people from all over the world came every night to admire my beautiful dancing and my perfect hoop work.
Towards the end of my solo rehearsal, Miss Caroline got Billie in to have a look at what we’d done. Billie is the Broadway/Musical Theatre teacher at Silver Shoes. I’ve always wanted to take her classes but Mum’s pretty strict with her ‘three classes a week’ rule.
Billie is cool. She dances in professional musicals all over Australia and she even worked in Asia once, doing a Disney show. She has this funky haircut that she dyes different colours and when she talks to you she always calls you ‘lovey’ or ‘girlfriend’.
Billie danced along with the music as she watched me. She kept yelling out ‘More face, more face!’ By the end I thought I’d stretched my face so much it had turned into elastic, but Billie clapped and gave me a hug. ‘I love it!’ she said. ‘Brilliant energy and great attack to your moves. You should come take one of my classes sometime, Ellie; we’d love to have you there.’
‘But make sure that back leg is straight on your jetés,’ said Miss Caroline.
Gosh, that back leg of mine. Sometimes I think it bends just to annoy Miss Caroline.
I thanked them both and headed for the change rooms to get back into my normal clothes. There were all these shimmery shadows coming through the church’s stained-glass windows and I felt like they were clapping and cheering for the amazing effort I’d just put in.
I felt great.
I was chasséing past the costume room when who should step out but horse-teeth Jasmine and her little pet pony, Tove. ‘Here’s a prop for your dance, Ellie,’ Jasmine said.
Something flew by my face, but I was caught
so unawares that I couldn’t catch it. It bounced off my chest and I had to rummage behind the gross dusty heater to fish it out.
It was a red clown nose.
‘It’s a clown’s nose,’ said Tove.
No, really? Thanks for that, My Little Pony. I stared at her and thought about how much she looked like a meerkat.
‘Because obviously with that dance,’ said Jasmine very sweetly, ‘you’re just clowning around. You’ll never win. Why don’t you leave the real dancing to the experts?’
‘Oh sorry, where will I find those?’ I said, looking around everywhere but at Jasmine and Tove.
‘She means us,’ said Tove. I really didn’t think Tove was having a bright day.
‘Well,’ I said, just as sweetly to Jasmine, ‘you do know that clowns are fan favourites. They win everybody’s hearts. Takes a lot of skill to look like you’re messing everything up.’ I made my smile bigger. ‘You would know.’
And then, because I knew that the stupid clown nose was meant to freak me out, I reached up and put it on. Then I waved at Jasmine and Tove in a really exaggerated manner, bowed, and went on my merry way to the change rooms.
Gosh. Those two should really stick to munching hay and leave the insults to those who can actually pull them off.
Chapter Nine
Mum was teaching yoga on Friday night, and Dad was with Lucas at some birthday party, so I had to hang around at Silver Shoes after class until Mum could pick me up.
‘I can get a lift home with one of the other girls,’ I said earlier that day.
‘No, no,’ said Mum, ‘I’ll come and get you. We can go somewhere for dinner to celebrate all the hard work you’ve been doing lately.’
‘We can celebrate after I win first place in my solo,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to jinx it.’
‘Not everything is about winning,’ said Mum.
‘It is,’ I said. ‘Remember when you got chosen to teach that new boxing class at the gym instead of that Donna lady you hate? I saw you dancing around the lounge to celebrate.’
And All That Jazz Page 2
