‘Mum!’ I yelled. ‘I love it!’
Of course I had to try it on straightaway. And when I did, it was like stepping into the skin of Celeste, famous cabaret dancer, who had stolen the entire world’s hearts.
And I knew I could do it. I knew I could win the competition.
I was in such a good mood when I went to my next solo rehearsal.
‘Hi Mrs de Lacy,’ I said to Jasmine’s mum as I walked past reception. ‘Hi Jasmine,’ I said, as sweet as can be, as I walked past her practising in the big dressing room. She looked like a codfish had slapped her in the face.
‘Miss Caroline, Miss Caroline!’ I cried, running into the small studio. ‘I have my costume – look! It’s amazing!’
Miss Caroline held it up. ‘Perfect!’ she declared.
‘I will be!’ I replied.
‘Well, this is your last rehearsal,’ she said, ‘so I hope so!’
But nothing could have stopped me now.
My side split leaps had never been higher. Miss Caroline didn’t even have to yell out at me to straighten my knees. The lines I created with my arms and feet were worthy of a famous ballerina. I didn’t even have to think about which expressions to use – everything came naturally. Even my travelling fouette turns, which I sometimes have trouble with, I breezed right through. A fouette is when you spin on the spot numerous times, using one leg to propel you. Often I throw my leg too hard and end up off balance, but not today. They were slightly easier because Miss Caroline wanted me to travel, and you usually stay on the spot.
At the end of the rehearsal Miss Caroline gave me a hug and said, ‘Now there’s the Ellie I know. Dance just like that at Jazz Groove and you’ll be unstoppable!’
I couldn’t wait until I took to the stage.
Chapter Thirteen
For the fifth time, I did a double pirouette, grabbed for Riley, and using her left side for support, hauled myself into the air and did a side split kick. Before I’d even touched the ground, Miss Caroline was calling out:
‘No, no, do it again, girls! It wasn’t together! Bethany, your kick wasn’t high enough; it was twenty centimetres below the other girls’!’
‘Sorry, Miss Caroline,’ said Bethany.
‘Don’t be sorry, just do it again,’ said Miss Caroline.
Final rehearsal really brings out the drill sergeant in Miss Caroline. I know it’s for our own good, and it’s what makes us win, but when you’ve been told ten times that what you’re doing isn’t good enough, it kind of puts a little crack into your heart.
Luckily we all love Miss Caroline. We all want to do our best for her. And she isn’t a drill sergeant for long. After we did the dance again and Bethany got her leg high enough, we had a break for a few minutes. Paige handed out lolly snakes while we caught our breath and forgot that only seconds ago Miss Caroline had been yelling orders at our faces.
You know what? Even now, all sweaty and tired and emotional, I was having the time of my life. Because I knew I’d worked hard doing something I love, and it was the best feeling. And who cared if it was only for a four-minute dance?
Let me explain: once, when I was staying at Nan’s, and I was a bit bored because I’d read all her magazines, I pulled down this big, leather poetry book with these awesome old illustrations, and I began flicking through it. It wasn’t very interesting, and the language was weird and hard to understand, but there was one poem that went like this:
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
And I ran out to the kitchen yelling, ‘Nan, Nan, this is about dance!’
After she’d gotten over being annoyed because I woke up Toby, her fat grumpy cat, Nan said that was very clever and a beautiful way to think about dancing. Later she even stitched me a picture of a dancer with those words written on the side.
Sure, a dance can only go for a few minutes, but you create a bit of magic in that time. The dance has these little fingers that go reaching out to find all the little happys that make the one big happy – one tiny moment that’s somehow full of these unrelated good things.
That sounds dumb, I guess. But the feeling dancing gives me makes all the bad stuff – the mean teachers, the blisters, the leotard wedgies, the annoying Jas-means, the ‘I’m about to spew, I pushed too hard’ – totally worth it.
After we’d had our share of jelly snakes (I saw Jasmine sneaking extra, even though she says she only eats ‘healthy’ things), we lined up again and the list went on: point your toes; extend your middle finger; get those arabesques in line with your hip; Ellie, what was that cartwheel doing; liven up your eyes, girls; Serah, get your mum to take in the waist of your dress before competition; maintain the turn-out in your turns; I need more height in that jump!
Finally, finally, Miss Caroline was impressed enough to say we were ready for the competition. All of us collapsed on the floor with our hearts jumping up near the roof.
Miss Caroline came around and handed out bottles of water. ‘I’m so proud of you, girls,’ she said. ‘I must have the best young dancers in the world!’
And when I looked over at Ashley, she had the biggest smile on her face. It was like she’d gone to dancing heaven.
I didn’t want to believe anyone could like dancing more than me.
Chapter Fourteen
It’s so exciting when you arrive at the performance venue for the first time. The Jazz Groove Dance Competition was held at the Two Palms Function Centre. It was a stuffy-looking building with lots of ramps and platforms – it looked more like a council building than a place where you’d dance.
Dance competitions aren’t always held in places like Two Palms. Often they’re in proper performance theatres or arts centres. A lot of them are held at town halls or in high schools that have really nice performance spaces. Once I even went to a comp that was held in a basketball stadium. It smelled like day-old hot chips and sweaty socks.
The Two Palms Function Centre was an hour’s drive away from Silver Shoes. Once you got around to the back, it stopped looking so much like a council building. There was a smallish auditorium (where the audience sits) and a cute stage that had giant white columns either side.
It looked like the perfect place to win a jazz championship.
Miss Caroline and Jay the hip hop teacher herded us around to the side entrance.
‘I hope Dance Art isn’t competing,’ I heard Riley say to Ashley.
‘You don’t need to worry about that,’ said Ashley. ‘Jazz Groove is beneath them. They only compete in the big competitions to match their big heads.’
‘Sometimes it’s good to practise with the smaller comps, so when it comes to the big ones you’re prepared,’ said Paige.
‘I thought it was your mum who made you enter all those comps,’ said Riley to Paige.
‘That too,’ said Paige, with a tiny grin.
‘You know, one day your mum’s going to jump on the stage and do the dance instead of you,’ Riley said.
‘If she wins, at least it’ll be in your name,’ said Ashley.
‘Maybe she and Jasmine can do a duet together,’ said Riley.
Great. Jasmine. My number one competition. I’d forgotten about her. My stomach did a somersault and I began to feel sick.
‘Come on, girls,’ said Jay, coming up behind us and ruffling our hair. ‘You here to talk or you here to dance?’
Paige blushed.
‘Lucky I haven’t done my hair yet,’ sassed Riley.
Jay pushed open the doors. My stomach did an even bigger somersault. There were some girls inside already, warming up or standing around, looking like they meant business. They were about our age.
I glanced around at the studio jackets everyone was wearing. Rhythmics Dance – no competition there. Jessica Lee Dancers – a couple of really amazing soloists who always placed at competitions, but they were in the older age categories. Isolation
Dance School was also there – they could pose some threat in the group dance, but I felt my solo jazz title was secure.
That’s when I saw that dreaded gold and blue jacket.
Dance Art Academy.
‘Dance Art are here!’ I exclaimed.
Ashley glanced around and then quietly moved behind Riley.
‘Hi Indianna, hi Daisy,’ said Jasmine, pushing her way to the front and up to the Dance Art girls.
Jasmine always tries to suck up to Dance Art. It’s pretty obvious that it’s her dream to wear the blue and gold. I don’t know why she didn’t switch studios years ago.
‘Hi,’ they said, not very nicely.
Indianna had glossy brown curls and pouty red lips that had forgotten how to smile. Daisy is Japanese, I think, and really pretty. It’s a shame her personality doesn’t match her looks.
‘I didn’t see you at school yesterday,’ said Jasmine. She goes to this big rich private school where most of the Dance Art girls go.
‘We took the day off to practise,’ said Indianna. She had a sour look on her face, like Jasmine was breathing lemons at her or something.
‘Are you doing solos?’ asked Jasmine. For a moment I thought I saw a flicker of fear on her face.
‘No way,’ said Daisy. ‘We wouldn’t do solos in a competition like this.’
‘Probably because you’d lose,’ said Riley, quietly enough to be loud.
‘We’re just here for the group dance, so we can practise for the big competitions.’
‘That’s cool,’ said Jasmine.
‘We saw you’re doing a solo,’ said Indianna.
‘Well, um, yeah, er, just for practice.’ Jasmine started fiddling with her hair.
‘Well then,’ said Indianna, who now looked like Jasmine had just squashed the lemons all over her face, ‘shouldn’t you go and practise and stop talking to us?’ She grabbed Daisy’s arm and stalked off. They didn’t even look at Ashley.
Wow, and I thought Jasmine was bad. ‘It was great to see you again,’ Ashley said sarcastically.
I thought about seeing if Jasmine was okay, but when I walked into the dressing room she was waiting for me.
‘I hope you’ll be happy with second place,’ she said. There was no fake smile full of bright white teeth this time. Only mean lemony eyes.
Oh, gosh. Forget about somersaults. Now my stomach had face-planted on the floor.
Chapter Fifteen
Backstage was crazy. In the long rectangular room there were sequins and bobby pins scattered everywhere, stockings and leotards hanging from the ceiling, and girls running around with make-up brushes in their hands, calling out for their mums to finish their lipstick.
My mum wasn’t backstage. She rarely is. She’s pretty busy because she keeps taking on new personal training clients at the gym and she’s also just started the new yoga program. So she doesn’t just teach the classes, she does all this fundraising and runs ‘healthy eating’ workshops. She’s pretty sporty. Dad always says she puts him to shame. I reckon I get my athletic ability from her.
Mum always makes it for all my performances, though, even if she’s often late, with Lucas hanging off her arm pretending to be a dinosaur. That happened once, in a silent theatre full of people. ‘Theatrical talent must run in the family, Mrs Irvin,’ Jay had joked. Mum just did her Mum smile.
I went to put my make-up case on the dressing table, but Jasmine’s mum held out her hand. Her fingernails looked like angry red talons. ‘Not there, Eleanor sweetie, this is Jasmine’s corner,’ Mrs de Lacy said. Her smile was even brighter and whiter than Jasmine’s.
‘Oh sorry,’ I said, but I wasn’t. I’m glad Mum didn’t hear my tone of voice – she has this thing about voice tones, and I definitely wasn’t using my polite one.
‘You can come over here, babe,’ called out Paige’s mum. ‘The lights are better here, anyway.’ Under her breath she muttered, ‘How ridiculous.’ Mrs Montreal was sweeping Paige’s hair back into a high, bouncy ponytail.
‘Ow, Mum, that’s too tight!’ Paige complained. Her blonde curls were exploding out of the hair band. If there was a first prize for prettiest, bounciest hair, Paige would win.
‘Nonsense, Paigey,’ said Mrs Montreal. ‘Now fluff it up. Are you right with your make-up? I’ll get started on Ellie’s hair.’
I sat in the chair while Mrs Montreal swept my hair into an equally tight ponytail – so tight, in fact, that I think my hairline got moved back a few centimetres. Then she began winding it around the curling wand.
I love my hair curly. It’s wavy naturally, but when it’s in ringlet curls I feel like a celebrity. After a competition I try to leave it like that for as long as possible, until Mum yells at me to have a shower because she could ‘fry chips on my head’. Whatever that means.
‘Where’s my dress, where’s my dress?’ Tove yelled. ‘Has anyone seen it?’
‘What colour is it?’
‘Did you bring it?’
‘I think I saw it near the box of pins!’
In another corner of the room, Bethany was complaining that her hairpiece (she had to wear a fake ponytail because her hair was too short) didn’t match the colour of her real hair.
Next to me, Serah was almost in tears because her tulle underlay had ripped and her mum hadn’t done her eyeliner right. ‘Ten-year-old girls shouldn’t have to wear make-up anyway,’ grumbled her mum.
She was wrong. Make-up really brings out your features on stage. Sometimes the bright lights can swallow your face. Not actually swallow them, but really wash you out. And because when you dance your face should express the emotion your body’s making – it’s a pretty big part of the performance.
I was fixing my lipstick (Mrs Montreal had done all the hard stuff, like the false eyelashes) when Ashley slunk over to my side. She looked really worried.
‘Hey Ellie,’ she said, ‘when do we start the warm-up?’
‘The what?’ I asked.
‘The group warm-up,’ Ashley said, fiddling with her ponytail. ‘At Dance Art we always did a group warm-up together.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘We don’t do that at Silver Shoes. Everyone knows to prepare in their own time.’ I pointed to where Riley and Paige were stretching out in any available space, under the costumes hanging down from the ceiling. Well, I should say Riley was stretching and Paige was trying to swat away her mum, who was ‘helping’ her down into a back twist.
‘Sorry,’ said Ashley. ‘I didn’t know. I better start now then. Thanks.’ She scuttled over to a space on the floor. She looked so nervous that I realised how scary it would be, to dance against your old school. Before now I’d thought that Ashley might try to ruin our dance on purpose because she was still loyal to Dance Art, but now I saw that she really wanted to do well.
I couldn’t just leave her. At Silver Shoes we stuck together.
‘Room for me?’ I asked Ashley, taking a seat. ‘You want to go over the dance in a bit?’
She smiled at me so warmly I almost didn’t care that I was competing against her in the solo section.
Almost.
Chapter Sixteen
The Silver Shoes dance troupe was huddled on the side of the stage, watching the group before us. I looked around at the other girls, with our big eyelashes, bouncy hair and rainbow dresses. We all looked fabulous but a little queasy, because in a minute that would be us, waiting behind the curtain.
I love this moment. Sure, I was nervous but I was also excited. I forgot how annoying Jasmine was, or that Ashley had waltzed into my dance studio and tried to show me up. We were just the Silver Shoes team, about to go on stage together. It was thrilling. I grabbed onto Paige’s arm and squeezed. Her curls almost whipped me in the face as she turned around to grin.
The troupe before us finished to a big clap. It was Rhythmics Dance Studio – they’d danced okay but they did the same moves you see at every dance comp. Where Silver Shoes stands out (and why I think we are the BEST studio!) is our choreography
– it’s amazing, unique and fun. Our teachers, especially Miss Caroline, choose the best, catchiest songs and none of our dances ever looks the same.
Silver Shoes has the wow factor. That’s why I love dancing here. That’s why I would never go to Dance Art. And that’s probably why Ashley had switched.
One girl was a mess as she ran off the stage. She was gasping, ‘I forgot, I forgot,’ and her friend was trying to give her a running hug. Hugs don’t really help in a situation like that. It’s a terrible feeling when you forget what’s supposed to come next. It’s embarrassing and heartbreaking, because you know you’ve ruined your one big chance.
Jasmine huddled us together once the Rhythmics girls were out of the wings. ‘Let’s do it, Silver Shoes,’ she whispered. I didn’t even mind that she was taking charge. The girls probably had enough of me bossing them around anyway.
The adjudicator rang the bell and Silver Shoes were announced. We had ten seconds to get on stage and in position before the curtain opened. I ran out to where I was supposed to start.
Oh, that’s right, at the centre front. Take that, Jasmine.
I got down into my front split and held out my arms for Riley. The opening of the song had our partners running on and lifting us up into a straddle jump – Miss Caroline likes to start dances with a bang.
Oh my god. The moment while I waited for that curtain to open felt like forever. I had to swallow several times just to stop my breakfast coming up.
But then the curtains opened.
And the music began.
Riley ran on stage and I could feel her reaching for my hands. All her excitement and energy passed from her palm to mine. And then I wasn’t nervous anymore. I was just ready.
The funny thing about group dances is that they never feel long enough. When I was up there, getting thrown about by Riley, clapping and kicking at the head of the group, I could have danced forever. I didn’t want ‘You Can’t Stop the Beat’ to end.
And All That Jazz Page 4
