I Forgot to Tell You

by Charis Marsh

  “Wow,” Kaitlyn repeated. She didn’t really know what to say about that. Other than the fact that all the students at the academy had sort of thought that Angela would have quit by now.

  “I’m really considering quitting dance,” Angela said, breaking down again.

  Good idea. You really suck. “Well, have you tried talking to the teachers?”

  Angela shrugged. “I’ve tried,” she said. “But I don’t know how to. I ask them to correct me, they just say ‘must improve,’ but they don’t say what to improve.”

  Everything.

  Angela stood up. “I think I’m going to go home now. Thanks for making me feel better.”

  “No problem,” Taylor and Kaitlyn said at the same time.

  “Get better,” Taylor told her, hopping up and giving her a hug. “Eat chocolate. Drink tea.”

  Angela laughed wetly. “I don’t think chocolate is going to help, I’ll just feel worse because then I’ll be fatter, too. Okay, see you guys tomorrow.” She walked off, heading downstairs to get changed.

  “Awkward much?” Kaitlyn said.

  “Poor Angela,” Taylor agreed. They went back to class.

  Chapter Twelve

  Taylor Audley

  Coppelia!!!! So excited!!!! And my dad’s coming to watch …

  Taylor was putting on her blush when she heard the shouting. She turned and looked toward the source of the noise in the hall.

  “What’s that?” Alexandra asked from across the room. They both ran to the door to check. The sight that greeted them was sufficiently odd to reward their effort. Mr. Demidovski and Mr. Moretti were having an argument in the hallway, and they were too absorbed in their fight to notice who was watching them.

  “You can’t use Jonathon! He can’t dance. I have put too much effort into this bloody show to see it ruined by that rural idiot!”

  “You can’t use Julie. He has not been rehearsed. He has not had the practice. He is too young.”

  “Well, that’s not my fault, is it? I told you that casting Dimitri was a risk. I told you that Jonathon could not do it. Even Theresa agrees with me, and God knows I hate to agree with that vile woman on anything.”

  “Julian cannot do!”

  “He has to!”

  “I will not have it! I am the director! I pay you!”

  “You …you perfetto imbecille!” Mr. Moretti reached out and pushed Mr. Demidovski to the stage wall. Taylor screamed. Now, pushing someone against the wall in a fit of anger is, while ill-advised, not generally considered that big a deal. But the circumstances take on a more serious tone when the pusher is in their thirties and the pushed is in their seventies. Mr. Moretti looked up at Taylor’s scream, and suddenly appeared to realize the inappropriateness of his behaviour. Mr. Demidovski seemed to be in shock, leaning against the wall.

  “All right,” Mr. Moretti said suddenly. “You can have Jonathon dance the part. I don’t care. But I am leaving. I have had enough of this bloody school, this bloody city with its rain, its idiocies, its hockey. I quit.” He strode down the hall, walking past Taylor and Alexandra without acknowledging them, although they were staring at him.

  “Get me Mr. Yu,” Mr. Demidovski said, in a quiet, serious voice that Taylor had never heard before. “And Julian. And Mrs. Demidovski.” Taylor and Alexandra nodded and hurried off to do as he asked.

  Julian was in the alleyway, texting Frida.

  Yeah, we have our show today, so I can’t … but I def can meet up w u on the weekend before I go to the Island :D

  He looked up; someone was coming down the alleyway.

  “Hey,” the person called out.

  “Hey,” Julian answered neutrally. He opened the door in order to disappear inside the theatre. Only a drunk person would try to make friends with a stranger in an alleyway. Or … Julian took a second look.

  “It’s me. You forget fast, child.” Nat walked up to the door, his hat perched at a rakish angle on his head, complementing his cheery face. “What up, young grasshopper?” Despite the fact that he was sixteen and a product of the twenty-first century, Nat sometimes liked to mimic the affectations of an upper-class gentleman from the Victorian era.

  Julian stared at him blankly, at a loss for words. “I thought you were in Hawaii right now,” he said. “You said in Seattle that you were going back there.”

  Nat shrugged. “Things change. Planes were meant to be flown. Or ‘flied’? Or … you know what, never mind. I’m here, it’s a miracle. Let me pass.”

  Julian stepped back, confused. “Why are you here?”

  “Never you mind.” Nat looked at his cellphone, in the manner of a person who has expected something to happen, and when said something has not happened, searches for answers on their phone.

  It was unnecessary, however; Tristan came hurrying up, beaming. “Hey,” he said shyly.

  Julian stared at them, completely lost.

  Tristan looked at him.

  “Oh!” The world clicked into place with a bang. Nat and Tristan totally like each other! Julian felt ridiculously pleased with himself for figuring this out. This is why Nat showed up at the audition for ABT! He looked at Tristan, who was looking at him like he could make him disappear if he only stared hard enough. “Well, that’s great!” Julian suddenly remembered that he had other places to be. “Cool! Like … really cool. Sweet. Okay. Bye.” He left down the hall, grinning to himself, a boy on a mission: to find Alexandra and give her first dibs on gossip that he really hoped that she didn’t already know. He met Alexandra halfway down the hall. “Lexi! Guess what? Nat is here and —”

  Alexandra was not listening. “Dimitri isn’t dancing. Mr. Moretti doesn’t want Jonathon to do it, he wants you to.”

  Julian’s face went white. “What?”

  “Yeah. Mr. Demidovski wants to see you.”

  “What happened to Dimitri?”

  “I don’t know. Mr. Demidovski and Mr. Moretti were having a big fight, because Mr. Demidovski was saying that you weren’t rehearsed, and Mr. Moretti was saying that you needed to be the one because he did not want Jonathon to do it.”

  “Mr. Demidovski is right. I’m not rehearsed.”

  “Um, you sort of are,” Taylor pointed out. “You’ve been rehearsing with me.”

  “Yeah, but that’s with you,” Julian pointed out. “I’ve never done it with Alexandra or Grace, and they are the ones dancing.”

  “Well, nobody said you were dancing yet,” Alexandra pointed out “Come on, Mr. Demidovski wants you!”

  The three of them ran down the long hall to find Mr. Demidovski. Mrs. Demidovski and Mr. Yu were already there, and Mr. Yu looked upset. “Cannot do,” he was saying. “No rehearsal, no dress rehearsal, no practice with Lexi or Grace.”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Demidovski agreed. “Must be Jonathon.”

  Julian stood there, waiting for them to notice that he was there. He did not know which way that he wished they’d decide; it would be incredible to play the part of Frantz, but not like this, not without rehearsal.

  “Julian.” Tristan’s voice echoed from down the hall. “Dude, someone’s here to see you.” Everyone looked up, confused.

  Julian walked down the hall to see who it was. “Hey, I thought I’d drop by to see you,” Theresa said, smiling at him. “Are you all right? You look a little unwell.”

  “Hello, Theresa,” Mr. Yu said, nodding formally at her.

  Theresa looked around, confused. “Am I interrupting something again?”

  Mr. Demidovski raised one dramatic finger. “Theresa,” he said slowly. “Do you think Julian could dance the part of Frantz? Or must it be Jonathon?”

  Theresa looked absolutely horrified. “Have Jonathon dance the part? He can’t! His face, it’s so ugly! It is practically in The Phantom of the Opera territory.” She looked at Julian. “Of course you can do it, can’t you, Julian?”

  Julian nodded, with a pause between Theresa’s words and his nod that drastically undercut the believability of the gesture.


  “There, you see? Of course it must be Jonathon.”

  Mr. Yu frowned. “He has never rehearsed with Lexi, or Grace …”

  “Julian, you do,” Mr. Demidovski said, fast like someone ripping off a Band-Aid. “Everyone, go get ready for dress rehearsal.”

  Kaitlyn was getting dressed in the corps change room when she heard someone crying in the bathroom. She knocked on the door. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” Grace opened the door. “It’s just … my parents aren’t getting divorced anymore.”

  Kaitlyn frowned, sure that she must be missing something. “What? Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “Well, yeah, I guess, but my dad was totally going to move to Sydney, and then I would have gotten to visit Sydney a lot, or, like, move there! They have dance schools there.”

  “Um …”

  “Like, I know that sounds really bad, but that’s why I’m upset.”

  “Okay … how long have they been back together now?”

  Grace looked at her cellphone. “Well, they weren’t together when I was eating breakfast, because they were fighting then, and I saw them kissing about ten minutes ago, so I guess sometime between then?”

  “Well, they might break up again then.”

  “I hope so! They said that it was me dancing that reminded them how much they loved each other. And then my mom started going on about how when they knew they were having a little girl they were both like ‘she’s going to be a ballerina!’ because like my mom used to dance, and my dad’s mom used to dance. And then my dad started talking about destiny.”

  “That sounds horrible.” I’m glad my parents aren’t fricking crazy.

  “Kaitlyn!”

  Kaitlyn turned around to see Cecelia standing in front of her. “Yeah, Mom?”

  “I brought you your lunch. Why isn’t your hair done yet? And did you put your pointe shoes in a safe place?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, what I told your Auntie Lynn and Grandma is that you decided you wanted to be in the corps because your foot was really bad, okay?”

  “Mom!” Kaitlyn said pointedly, gesturing with her head toward the bathroom stall. The bathroom door closed slowly, a hand reaching from the inside to pull it shut.

  “Oh. Sorry,” Cecelia said in a loud whisper. “Here you are. Do you want me to do your eyeliner for you?”

  “Mom! No, I’m good. Thanks.” Cecelia continued to hover. “Mom … you are making me kind of nervous. Could you please go and wait in the audience?”

  Cecelia looked at her, hurt. “What? You’re only dancing in the corps, anyway, Kaitlyn!”

  “Yeah, it’s worse! Mom, I’ve never danced in the corps before. You have to match the timing of all the other dancers, and keep in line, and all the steps are small and stupid.”

  “Okay. Fine. I’m going to go get a coffee then, you get ready. Have a good rehearsal.”

  “Bye.” Kaitlyn let her breath out as her mother finally left.

  The bathroom stall slowly opened again. “Hey,” Grace said. “Want me to do your eyeliner?”

  “Yes, please!” Kaitlyn said eagerly. “I really suck at it.”

  Grace perched on the makeup counter and took out Kaitlyn’s eyeliner pencil and her liquid eyeliner bottle. She carefully began to draw a smooth line on Kaitlyn’s eyelid with the pencil. “By the way, I know who drenched your pointe shoes in water during Nutcracker.”

  “Who?” Kaitlyn exclaimed. She managed to not open her eyelids despite her surprise.

  “Jessica.”

  “But why?”

  Grace shrugged. “She’s a freak. Like, we’re friends, I love her, but she’s a total freak. And she really hated you.”

  “I didn’t even talk to her.”

  “I think that’s sort of the point? She thought you were super stuck-up. And she was jealous because you got cast so well right away. Now she’s okay with you though, obviously.”

  Kaitlyn gulped. If failing was what it took for Jessica to not hate her she’d rather that Jessica hated her.

  Grace finished with the liquid eyeliner. “There. Perfect.”

  Kaitlyn peered in the mirror. “That’s perfect! Thanks. How do you know how to do it so well?”

  Grace shrugged. “I started doing my stage makeup for myself when I was nine,” she explained. “And I think I started practising when I was six. So, I’ve had a lot of experience. We should probably get to the stage, they are probably going to start run-through soon.”

  Taylor was sitting in the audience watching while Alexandra and Julian kept going through the pas de deux. Julian was having trouble, because Alexandra took a little longer on every step than Taylor did.

  Tristan suddenly popped into the seat beside Taylor. “Hey.”

  “Hey to you!” Taylor laughed. “So … Julian told me you and Nat, hey? How’d you manage to keep that a secret?”

  “I guess I just forgot to tell you guys.”

  “So, where is he now?”

  “Gone to get some food, he’s coming back to watch the matinee.”

  “Oh. Are you still doing the matinee? I thought they would switch the casts, have Jules do the matinee, you do the evening show.”

  “They can’t. I’m doing the flower pas de deux in the evening show, and to switch that all around would be too much. This way it’s only Julian and Alexandra who are affected.” They both turned to watch Julian and Alexandra rehearse. “He might do okay,” Tristan said, surprised. “I didn’t think he actually knew it.”

  “He didn’t,” Taylor said, frowning. “He’s a fast learner when he wants to be.”

  “Did you manage to find out what happened to Dimitri yet?”

  Taylor started to giggle, and could not stop. “Yes.”

  “What happened?”

  “He completely forgot to deal with his immigration stuff. Apparently they had been sending him letters for months, and he had just been ignoring them. He had to get his visa renewed or something. Mr. Yu made Cromwell Gilly drive him somewhere to deal with it this morning, because they had started to call Mr. Yu since Dimitri used to homestay with him.”

  “Oh geez. Mr. Demidovski is going to kill him when he comes back.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is it just me, or is Alexandra dancing a little off?”

  Taylor watched for a few seconds, frowning. “You’re right. She is.”

  Tristan swore. “I bet it’s her foot again.”

  “I think she’s okay — look, she did that arabesque normally.”

  Alexandra felt like crying. Not only was she not used to dancing with Julian, but her foot was killing her. Every time she stepped up on pointe, she was not sure if it would support her. She was sure that she could do it, if only they stopped rehearsing until the show. “One more time,” Mr. Demidovski called out.

  Mr. Yu held up his hand, walking over to her. “Okay?” he asked tersely. “Foot okay?”

  Alexandra shook her head, swallowing back tears. “No.”

  “Okay for show?”

  “Yes. I just need to go ice it, take some Tylenol.”

  “Okay.” Mr. Yu walked back to Mr. Demidovski and they conferred for a moment. “Okay. Finish,” Mr. Yu said, waving. “Corps come, run through now.” Alexandra and Julian walked off stage, and Alexandra sat down on one of the audience seats, rubbing her foot angrily as if she could bully it into not hurting.

  “I’ll go get you some ice,” Julian said, watching her nervously.

  Taylor was dancing the Villagers’ waltz when she felt a firm hand push her out of the dance. In the large corps, Mr. Yu, of course, did not notice what happened; instead, he just saw Taylor falling out of formation. “Taylor! No mistake!”

  Taylor burned with the indignity of it all. She had not made a mistake; stupid Jessica had pushed her. She waited for a second and then rejoined the dance. All went well for a few moments, and then it happened again. “

  “Taylor! One more time, I kick you outta the dance.” T
hey finished the dance and ran offstage.

  Taylor stepped in front of Jessica, brave for once. “You pushed me,” she said loudly. Around them, people stopped to watch.

  “What are you talking about?” Jessica brushed her off, starting to walk away.

  “You pushed me!” Taylor said, getting angry. “In the middle of the dance! And then I got in trouble for it.”

  “You’re crazy,” Jessica said flatly. She walked backstage, and Taylor was left with two options: to follow her, and actually look crazy; or to drop it. Taylor dropped it, but it burned.

  The matinee had started, and Kaitlyn was sitting backstage watching Grace dance Swanhilda, when she realized something that she maybe should have fully realized sooner. She had never been part of a corps before. She had never had to work on a team or take more than a superficial interest in what the other dancers around her were doing. She had never even worn a costume as ill-fitting as the one she currently had on and have it genuinely not matter because the audience would not be focusing on her. She had told her mother this, and logically she had known it, but emotionally it had not hit her. The strange thing was it felt different, but not worse. There were positive sides to each experience. There were less people watching her, she had a less prestigious part, but she also felt strangely relaxed. There was less pressure. And she could enjoy watching the parts of the ballet that she was not in, where if she had been dancing Swanhilda she couldn’t have. Kaitlyn suddenly shook her head. Don’t try and fool yourself, Kaitlyn. This sucks, and you really, really wish you could be out there dancing Swanhilda right now. Kaitlyn watched Grace port de bras backwards with about half the depth that she could have done it with.

  Alexandra waited in the wings as the music began to play for the evening performance. “Da da, dadada, dadada, dada,” she hummed to herself. Across the stage she could see the house that Mr. Yu had worked so hard on, painted in grey and brown. At the top of the house was an open window, and Keiko sat there, staring outside blankly. She was playing a life-size doll made by the eccentric toymaker, Doctor Coppélius. The beautiful doll was named Coppelia, and she sat there reading a book.