by Charis Marsh
“I’m fine,” Mao assured him. “Just forget to eat breakfast, and then — bang!”
“Yeah, we heard,” Julian said, giggling despite the seriousness.
“It was funny, wasn’t it?” Mao said, smiling.
Gabriel came out of the office and walked toward him. “Mao, can you come here? Mrs. Demidovski wants to talk to you.”
“Uh-oh,” Tristan said as she left. Everyone else went back into the studio now that the entertainment was gone.
“Why?” Julian asked, frowning. “She looks like she’s going to be fine.”
“They’re probably going to make her go back to Japan.”
“Why?” Julian exclaimed.
“Think about it, Jules,” Tristan said. “They have to. She fainted because she wasn’t eating enough and the academy doesn’t want to be accused of ignoring eating disorders. Fainting is pretty obvious.”
“But, they won’t actually, will they?” Julian asked. “Couldn’t they just ask her to eat more?”
Tristan shrugged. “I doubt they will. This is easier. It happened last year, too.”
“Somebody fainted?”
“No, it was a bit different.” Tristan started to giggle. “It was this girl who was staying with Mr. Yu, actually.”
“What happened?”
“Well, I don’t know why they made her leave the school. But, anyway, one time me and Kageki were eating this cake we’d bought from Daun’s — you know those white cakes that they make, right? With the whipping cream and fruit on top? The ridiculously light and sweet ones?”
“Yeah, they’re so gross.”
“Kind of, but they look good. Anyway, we were eating it, and then we left, and I set it on top of the garbage can, like, you know, the kind without a lid, so it was pretty full and then there was this cake box just perched on top, right?”
“Okay …?”
“And then Kageki and me went into the studio right next to it, and were like joking around and stuff, but then we decided to go downstairs for some reason so we came out of the studio. And this girl was there, eating the cake out of the garbage, and then she just drops it back in the can, screams, and goes downstairs. Like, seriously. It was the weirdest thing. So gross.”
“Wait, what?”
“Exactly! And the thing was she had money. And she never ate her lunch or anything; Leon said that she’d just eat like fifteen oranges every day or something. I remember him going on about it because he said that Mr. Yu had been bugging her about it at dinner, he said that she would turn orange.”
“Okay, I don’t think that she could turn orange, but that is really weird, and kind of messed up.”
“Yeah.”
“That doesn’t mean that they will make Mao go home. She just fainted.”
“In front of everyone. I bet they will.”
“That really sucks.” They heard the sound of a piano playing in the studio, and quickly ran back in.
Julian got changed quickly after class; he had a huge amount of homework to finish. He was just going up the stairs when Alexandra accosted him. “Hey.”
“Hey …?”
“I’m going to go take class at Leah’s school tonight. Want to come?”
Julian wavered for approximately three seconds. Homework that would take him all night to finish, or class with Leah? Definitely class with Leah. “Just a second, have to go get my shoes and stuff.” He ran back down the stairs and opened his locker, digging around in the mess inside for the stuff that he wanted.
Tristan was at his locker getting changed. “What? Julian, did you do this?”
Julian looked over at the dancing stick-figure in a tutu. “Ah, no. Did you just notice that? Andrew Lui did it while he was visiting.”
“Oh. That is really random. But cool — Andrew Lui drew on my locker!”
“Hey, I’m finally going to take class with Leah at her studio, want to come? I’m going with Alexandra.”
“Uhhhhh … I have so much homework ….”
“Me, too, dude. Just come!”
“Okay, fiiiiine.” Tristan grabbed his shoes and shorts back out of his locker, stuffed them in his bag, and followed Julian out the door.
Justin was waiting in the car. “I thought Mom was picking me up?” Alexandra said, her face falling.
“Nice to see you too, sis,” Justin said. “Uh, what’s with the entourage?”
“We all wanted to go take Leah’s six o’ clock class,” Tristan answered for her.
“I thought Mom was going to be driving,” Alexandra repeated. “Can you drive us?”
Justin groaned. “Alexandra, I have an essay do, a lab to finish, and all my homework problems …”
“We can go another night, that’s fine,” Tristan said quickly.
“Please Justin? It will take you, like, fifteen minutes more,” Alexandra said.
“More like half an hour more. Okay. But I’m not picking you up; you’ll have to get Mom or Dad to do that.”
“Kk.” They got in the car, and Justin started to drive toward the east side where Leah’s studio was located. He turned the music up loud so that they couldn’t talk. They were at the studio in closer to fifteen minutes than thirty, and hopped out fast, Justin unwilling to even park.
“Bye.”
“Bye.” Justin sped away, and Alexandra shook her head. “He got a ticket last week, he’s going to be, like, totally broke if he gets another one. Then how’s he going to be able to buy all that rum he drinks?”
“How come you don’t look like your brother?” Tristan asked, staring after him.
“Less beer and carbs, more X chromosomes. Also, I have a much better haircut. Come on, it’s almost six!”
The music was already blaring in the big studio when they stepped in. Tristan peered around the corner. Leah was rehearsing her junior competition company, and they were working on a piece set to a Jessie J song. She saw him and flashed him a thumbs-up. He grinned.
“You taking class, kid?” she yelled across the studio.
“Yes, ma’am!” He left the studio door and ran to catch up with Tristan and Alexandra. They got changed quickly and made their way against the tide of ten- to thirteen-year-olds who were pouring out of the studio. Most of the senior company was already there, stretching on the floor. Leah’s students didn’t have a special academic program like at the academy, so they all had to take class after school.
Leah motioned Julian over to talk to her. “You finally came,” she said.
“Yeah. I said I would!”
“Took you long enough. Now, I wanted to talk to you about something. Alexandra said that you were a choreographer.”
“Sort of. Like, I like to choreograph, but I’m not —”
“Don’t be stupid. If you choreograph, you are a choreographer. Repeat after me, I. Am. A. Choreographer.”
“I am a choreographer.”
“Delivery needs work. See that girl over there?” Julian looked in the direction she was pointing, toward a corner full of dancers.
“Uh,there’s a lot of girls there.”
“That one. The dark-skinned girl with the red shorts and the white knee socks.” At that moment the girl looked over at them and smiled. She had the whitest teeth he had ever seen, and he shivered. There was something about the combination of tiredness, fluorescent lighting, and toothpaste-commercial white teeth that freaked the hell out of him.
“Yeah, I see her.”
“Listen to me carefully. That girl is really talented. Really. She’s older than you, about nineteen now, and she’s trying to get a small contemporary company together, doing all the choreography herself.”
“Cool.”
“She can’t do all the choreography because she isn’t good enough. Her parents have money and they’re willing to fund this. They want their little girl to do what she loves. You understand?”
“Um, not really.” Julian stared at her, feeling slightly dizzy, from the lights, the loud music and talking, the bright da
nce clothing that was completely different from the academy’s uniform.
“What I am saying is, go make friends with her. You could really help each other out. Her name is Frida.”
“Okay,” Julian replied.
Leah stood up and walked to the CD player, and Julian melted back into the crowd of students, all just spread out instead of in the ordered lines that ruled classes at the academy. Leah began the class with a warm-up, which Julian did not need thanks to his already full day of classes before this. It was always a bit painful to stretch again after his body had gotten cold for the day. Leah then led them through a series of fast-paced choreography sequences. Julian kept sneaking glances at Frida, trying to get some clue as to how good she would be at choreography, or at dance in general, but to him, she just looked average. Alexandra was a million times better than her, at everything. She was stronger than Alexandra, at some steps that did not combine flexibility and strength, but that was not very important.
Leah gave them a water break, and Julian sipped slowly, trying not to choke. He found it difficult to drink after he had been dancing; his throat seemed to close up. At the front of the room, Leah looked at him pointedly. Julian gulped. He walked over to the girl, feeling suddenly quite young, and stood beside her, trying to look casual as he considered what he should say. In the end, he didn’t have to say anything.
“Hey, I’m Frida,” she said, holding out her hand. They awkwardly half-shook, half-clasped hands. “You haven’t come to take Leah’s class before, have you?”
“No,” Julian admitted. “I haven’t. I took her class at Harbour, though. And my friends over there have been here a lot.” He pointed to Alexandra and Tristan, who were sitting on the floor and kept looking at him.
“Oh … are you from the academy, then?”
“Yes.”
“Well, good luck. Nobody here really likes the academy.”
“Why?” Julian protested.
Frida shrugged, putting the cap back on her water bottle. “A lot of things … an inferiority complex, the fact that we think everyone at the academy is stuck on themselves and anorexic, the fact that Leah always gives lectures on how the academy can make you hate dancing, kill the joy of it for you.”
“That’s not true,” Julian said, quick to leap to the defence of his school.
Frida shrugged. “I’ve never been there, so …”
Julian decided to be blunt. It seemed the easiest, and he was tired. “Leah told me to talk to you. She was telling me about how you wanted to start your own contemporary company.”
Frida’s face lit up, and she showed her dimples along with more perfectly white teeth. Julian wondered if her parents were both dentists. “I know who you are now! You’re that boy from the Island. Leah was telling me about you, because I’ve been trying to figure out who I want on board with me, in this company, I mean, of course, and it’s all sort of been turning into a nightmare.”
“Well, of course,” Julian said, laughing. “It’s the arts. Anything in the arts that’s worth doing is going to be a nightmare. If it’s smooth, you know you’re not making art.”
Frida stared at him. “How old are you? I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“Julian Reese. I’m sixteen.”
“Frida Levesque. I’m nineteen. You seem very mature for your age.”
“That’s because I’m tired. It makes me calm and I start to act normal. You just don’t want to meet me when I’m awake.”
“Oh. I see.”
Leah clapped her hands. “Hey! Everyone. Teatime’s over. We’re going to do improv tonight, okay? Get into pairs.” Julian looked over at Alexandra and Tristan, but they were already standing next to each other.
“Want to go with me?” Frida asked, smiling. She was the sort of person that nobody ever said no to, and although that kind of confidence was annoying on most people, it suited her.
“Sure,” Julian agreed, relieved that he didn’t have to search around for a partner. Leah turned on the music, a sort of folk-instrumental sound, and they began. Leah’s philosophy toward improv was to keep in contact, and that is what Julian and Frida did, starting with hands and moving onward. From the outside, Julian couldn’t help thinking, this would look incredibly awkward. But, it just wasn’t. It was normal. It fit Julian’s theory that the human body was whatever you wanted it to be. It was like how the naked body could be pornographic, art, or just another nude person at Wreck Beach. The same body could mean a completely different thing in each context. So, they danced. Frida was different to dance with than Alexandra had been during Leah’s class in Spring Break. Where Alexandra would just move away to do something by herself if she didn’t like where Julian was taking their movement, Frida would force him to go in the direction she wanted. She was just stronger. The power balance was different. It took Julian a bit to get used to, but after about a minute he had adjusted, and their movements became very in tune.
The last notes of the song died away, and Leah clapped her hands. “Good, everyone. Julian, Frida, very simpatico, nice work.”
After they had finished, Julian got changed next to Tristan, but Tristan was oddly quiet. They went out into the hall to find Alexandra.
“Hey.” Frida was sitting on the bench in the hall. “Trade numbers? I’ll let you know if anything goes down, you can decide then if you want to be involved.”
Alexandra and Tristan stood behind him as he traded numbers with her, and Julian was awkwardly conscious of them watching. “I’ll add you on Facebook, too,” Frida said, smiling at him. “I really hope I can get you involved on something soon — it’s just, first we need the something that you could be involved on.”
“Yeah.” Julian laughed. “Okay. Nice meeting you. Bye.”
The three of them walked out, Tristan and Alexandra walking very tightly on either side of him. Tight as in Julian had difficulty walking without stepping on their toes. “What was that?” Alexandra asked at the same time that Tristan said,“I’ve never seen you try and act professional before.”
Julian shrugged, embarrassed. “Did I really look like I was trying to act professional?” he asked Tristan.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Tristan relented. “It’s just because we know you that we noticed.”
“Oh. Good,” Julian said, relieved. They started walking to the bus loop. Leah’s studio was in the middle of low-income suburban nothingness, and there was shop after empty shop along the street, the kind that sells windows, or carpet-cleaning services. At the end of the street there was an empty bus loop and a McDonald’s.
“What’s the story, then?” Alexandra demanded impatiently, looping her arm in his. Tristan did the same on the other side. Julian decided his friends were strange.
“Leah told me that Frida was trying to start up a small contemporary company,” Julian said uncomfortably, highly aware that Leah had told him, who she barely knew, and not Alexandra and Tristan. “I think it was because you told her that I liked choreographing, Alexandra.”
Alexandra frowned. “Frida is starting a contemporary company? But she isn’t any good. Well, she’s okay, but not brilliant.”
Julian yawned. “I don’t know, dude.”
They sat at the bus bench and Alexandra phoned her parents, trying to get them to pick up and give her a ride home. “Ugh!” she said after finally getting through to them. “They want me to bus back to downtown; they said they would pick me up there.”
“Uh —” Tristan said pointedly.
Alexandra sighed. “Yes, you may sleep over Tristan. But you’re not borrowing a shirt. You got tomato soup all over that white one of mine last time.”
“Yay. There are, like, no buses near my home,” Tristan explained to Julian. Julian nodded; it was getting close to ten o’ clock and it was probably going to take him close to an hour to get home since all the buses that he needed to take stopped running frequently at this time of night.
They got on the almost-empty bus. The bus driver made them all
show their student ID to prove that they qualified for their bus passes, looking suspicious. Geez, Julian thought impatiently, does he really have nothing better to do? If he were a bus driver, he would never check that sort of stuff. It was the kind of thing that could be left for the transit police to do. The bus went on its way, stopping to let only a few people get on or off each stop, and Julian fell half-asleep, leaning his head on Alexandra’s shoulder as Tristan did the same to him.
By the time Julian got home, the clock on the kitchen microwave said it was eleven. Which meant it was probably about ten minutes past eleven, or maybe a quarter to. Julian grabbed his dinner out of the fridge and took it to his room to eat. He could see all of the homework he had to do, spread out all over the room, but he was too tired to even pick it up and sort it out, let alone actually do it. Instead, he picked up Theresa’s biography and continued reading it. He was almost at the chapter that talked about Isaac, but he was trying to force himself to read it in order. He ate his green vegetables and ham and mashed potatoes slowly, as he read about the first time Theresa guested in Belgium.
Chapter Eleven
Kaitlyn Wardle
Watching The Big Bang Theory with my mom — so cool :p
Kaitlyn spun around in front of the mirror, trying to see her butt. It had to look smaller; she had lost five pounds. Okay, I just can’t see it, she decided.
“Kaitlyn, come on!” Jeff yelled from downstairs. “You are going to be late for school.”
“Coming …” Kaitlyn picked up her backpack and ran downstairs, joining her father in his car.
“How’s school?” Jeff asked. He had a set of questions that he asked while he drove her to school, and asking about school was one of them. Along with, “How is your peer group rating?” a question he found hilarious because it was taken from an old Peanuts cartoon, and “How is dance?”
“School’s good.”
“Really? Have you had that course-planning session with your counsellor yet?”
