I Forgot to Tell You

by Charis Marsh

  It was time. Alexandra ran out, dancing a light and happy variation. She played Swanhilda, the doll’s neighbour. Through her dance she tried to make friends with the doll, not realizing that Coppelia was not alive. At the end, realizing that Coppelia was still ignoring her, Alexandra’s Swanhilda ran off, sulking. But not far; Alexandra ran into her house, across from Coppelia, where she had an excellent view of her fiancé, Frantz, trying to flirt with Coppelia. The doll was as unresponsive to him as she was to Swanhilda, and Frantz left. Swanhilda was left filled with jealousy and curiosity.

  Alexandra loved this ballet. Frantz and Swanhilda were both irresponsible brats, the spoiled darlings of their village. It was a fun contrast to the tragedy and drama of Giselle, or Swan Lake, or La Bayadère, even. It was during Act II that it happened. Alexandra had watched Julian’s Frantz be drugged by Delilah’s Doctor Coppélius. Doctor Coppélius wanted to take the life force out of Frantz and put it inside his doll. Unfortunately, Swanhilda was currently dressed as Coppelia, and she was forced by the circumstances to come alive and dance like a puppet led by Doctor Coppélius. Alexandra was doing an echappe, when she felt her arch go over too far, and that was when she knew that something was wrong. It was during an awkward pas de deux of sorts that her foot gave out. She was supposed to be guided by Doctor Coppélius, and, while Delilah held her, the choreography dictated that she was to half-fall, held by Delilah, as if she was knocked off balance by Doctor Coppélius, or was simply refusing to dance with him. Alexandra fell, but she slipped, and when Delilah caught her, Alexandra’s foot twisted at an angle that it simply couldn’t handle. Alexandra’s face went white under her foundation, but Delilah did not notice that anything was wrong. Delilah continued to play her part of the eccentric old man, walking off. Alexandra was supposed to walk like a doll to the corner and then begin a diagonale of chaine turns.

  She walked over, but as she stood in the corner, she was not sure that she was going to be able to do it. She stretched out her right foot in front of her, preparing. And one …

  Taylor was hanging out beside Mr. Yu, watching Alexandra dance and swinging her legs as she sat on one of the prop tables. She didn’t have to dance for a bit. Mr. Yu stood beside her, intermittently barking out commands to the tech crew. Taylor was not supposed to be sitting on that table, but Mr. Yu was ignoring it for now. He suddenly stepped forward, staring at the stage. “Alexandra,” he said. “Not okay.”

  “What?” Taylor said, even though he had been talking to himself.

  Mr. Yu looked at her. “When Alexandra come off, you go on. Okay?”

  Taylor nodded, her stomach suddenly spinning.

  “Mao!” Mr. Yu said, calling her over. “Take out hairpiece; be ready to help her change.” Mao nodded, starting to quickly take the fake flowers out of Taylor’s hair, trying not to wreck her bun.

  Mr. Yu stood in the wings as Alexandra started to chaine toward them. She was supposed to stop and then go back to dancing with Doctor Coppélius, a dance that was supposed to trick him into thinking that he had lost control over his lovely Coppelia doll. Instead, Mr. Yu motioned for Alexandra to keep chaine-ing until she was offstage. She didn’t look surprised, and the second she was hidden behind the wings she limped off and sat on the floor, taking off her shoe. She wasn’t the important one right now, though. On stage, a startled Delilah had broken into an improvised comedy routine, acting surprised and shocked about the loss of her doll. Delilah was waving her beard and hands about for all she was worth, but it would only buy them a few seconds. Mr. Yu helped Mao pin Alexandra’s headpiece in her hair and do up the hooks on her new costume, and then Taylor ran back on stage. “Ganbate!” Mao called in a whisper after her. On the floor, Alexandra had started to cry. Her foot was red and swollen, and the combination of the pain and disappointment over having to leave the stage was more than she could handle.

  Julian had been onstage this whole time, but he was supposed to be drugged, passed out on Doctor Coppélius’s thick wooden kitchen table. In the interests of curiosity (and not forgetting to wake up!) he had kept his eyes open. Still, it was disorienting to be only able to look in one direction, and have one Swanhilda chaine past you, and then a few seconds later have different one pass by. Taylor? What the? He watched her dance a solo as Doctor Coppélius watched, marvelling at his creation. She finished, and now it was time for Frantz to slowly wake up. Taylor began to hurry around Doctor Coppélius’s house, ripping up his spell book, starting up his other mechanical dolls, and generally being a nuisance. Julian firmly pushed down all thoughts of what could have happened to Alexandra, and focused on what he was going to dance next. He needed to; his memory of the steps was shaky at best.

  As they took a bow, Julian felt like flying. He looked down at Taylor; her expression reflected how he felt. They had done it! They had danced their very first principal roles, and they’d been okay. Maybe not brilliant; maybe they had made some mistakes, and perhaps Julian might’ve slightly re-choreographed bits that he had forgotten; but it was over and they had done it. To Julian, it felt like the first time he had jumped off the high diving board at the public pool. He’d done it once, and nothing bad had happened, so he had decided that next time he would do a flip. The audience was cheering with awesome volume. I guess they’ve heard about our Unfortunate Events, Julian thought, as he grinned and bowed for the third time. Not every school has to use both their understudies for the same show, or, not even an understudy at all. The curtain began to close, and as it did they all began to scream, jumping up and down and hugging each other.

  A few minutes later the curtain opened again, and Mr. Demidovski was standing in front of the microphone. To his right stood a lineup of the academy’s teachers and staff: Mrs. Demidovski, dressed in black dress pants and a red shirt; Mr. Moretti, looking sullen; Mrs. Mallard, who had her “Queen of England” smile on and was beaming at everyone; Mrs. Castillo, who looked little and was clutching a bouquet of flowers with a serious expression on her face. Leah towered over everyone and was wearing a sparkly low-cut black tank top that didn’t quite fit. Gabriel was there, wearing the same suit he wore to work every day, and Sequoia stood next to him in a sack-shaped baby-blue dress that made her look more washed-out than usual. Only Mr. Yu was missing.

  “Where is Mr. Yu?” Mr. Demidovski demanded. Mr. Yu leapt out of the wings and took a place between Mrs. Mallard and Mrs. Castillo. He put his arms around their shoulders, grinning. They looked remarkably resigned to it for two dignified old ladies.

  Mr. Demidovski began to talk, of the accomplishments of the school, of the awards won during the year, of how grateful he was for parental involvement … Julian tuned out, bored. Finally Mr. Demidovski started to get to the interesting stuff. “Mr. Moretti will be leaving us,” he said. “We are very glad he is going, sorry, excuse, we are sad that he is going, but glad that he is going to …” Mr. Demidovski trailed off, as he realized too late that he had no idea what Mr. Moretti was going off to do. “We wish him the very best in his future endeavours. And, we would like to give out some scholarships. The students, the students working very hard this year, we want to reward, also reward the parents who give so much of money, of sweat.” Mr. Demidovski nodded to Gabriel, who began to call out some names for small bursaries.

  “Taylor … Julian … Chloe … Kaitlyn …” Mr. Demidovski read out the names from the stack of envelopes in his hands while handing them out. “Michael … Tristan …” After the first round of bursaries was distributed, Mr. Demidovski stepped back to the microphone. “We have also decided to start awarding new scholarship. Mrs. Castillo, please here.”

  Mrs. Castillo stepped up to the mike. “This scholarship, it is in memory of my daughter,” she said.

  “Speak up, Mrs. Castillo,” Mr. Demidovski demanded.

  “My daughter, Aurora Castillo, she loved dance very much ever since she was a little girl. She was very beautiful, very slim, very sweet. Is Alexandra here?” Mrs. Castillo looked around.

  “A
lexandra?” Mr. Demidovski echoed, taking the mike away from Mrs. Castillo. Gabriel whispered in Mr. Demidovski’s ear. “Ah. She had to go to hospital — they think foot might be broken. Can anyone take and give to Alexandra?”

  There was a moment’s pause, and then Julian realized that no one was jumping to volunteer. “I’ll do it,” he offered. He walked up and took the envelope.

  Mrs. Castillo reached up and hugged him, as if it had been him who was getting the scholarship, not Alexandra. Her wiry strong hands made Julian bend over so that she could whisper in his ear. “Tell Alexandra,” Mrs. Castillo said through the sound of clapping, “that she was very good. Tell her that she was very beautiful, and I am very glad.”

  Julian nodded. “Okay.”

  “Good boy.”

  Taylor got changed quickly and met her mom, her dad, Vivienne, and Alison in the lobby. “Taylor, sweetheart, you looked like a princess out there!” Charlize exclaimed, hugging her. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you came on — I’m so glad —” Charlize quickly covered her mouth, realizing what she had been about to say in the very crowded theatre lobby. “It’s very sad what happened to Lexi. But you were so good! Why was Julian dancing? I didn’t know he was the understudy.”

  “It’s a really long story, Mom,” Taylor said, laughing. She turned to her dad.

  “You were really good, princess,” he said, smiling. “You looked just like a doll. Good thing you don’t look like this one here, huh?” he laughed, pinching Alison’s cheek affectionately. Alison brushed his hand away, scowling.

  Taylor frowned at her dad’s comment to Alison before asking slowly, “You liked it?”

  “Yes! Well, I think you should have been cast before that other girl, if you ask me. You are twice as pretty as she is.”

  “Daddy. It’s not about who looks best, it’s about who’s the best dancer.”

  “I know that,” Steven said impatiently. They were walking out of the theatre, and he pushed open the door, leading them outside. “How about we go get something to eat, huh? And Taylor, have you thought any more about moving out to L.A., trying to focus on acting? We could try to get you some modelling work, too, Vivienne has great contacts.” He hugged his Vivienne, who appeared to be mute.

  “Yes. No,” Taylor said firmly. “Yes, I have thought about it, no, I don’t want to. Thanks, though.”

  Steven frowned. “Why not?”

  Taylor shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” Steven persisted. “That doesn’t make sense, it isn’t logical. Come on, you must have an answer.”

  “Well,” Taylor said slowly, “I can always do acting later. Dancing I have to work on now. Also, I can always act while I’m dancing, like I did tonight, but I couldn’t dance while I act.”

  “That is true,” Steven was forced to concede. “They would think it very strange on set if you started to jump during a scene. You might have a point, princess. But remember, the offer is always open. And Vivienne makes great pancakes, if that sways your choice any.”

  “I’m good. Mom makes good pancakes, too.”

  Julian rubbed the makeup off his face, using liberal amounts of makeup remover. That’s better. It was all right for the girls, they were used to wearing makeup. The mascara made his eyes water. “Julian!”

  Julian turned around, unable to see whoever was speaking. The water had washed the makeup remover into his eyes, and that stuff stung. “Just a second, I’m dying, slash going blind.” Julian felt his way to the roll of paper towel beside the sink and dried his eyes.” He turned around.

  “Oh, hi, Theresa!” He noticed that he still had eyeliner left in the creases of his eyes, and he quickly tried to rub it off, as it made him look a bit frightening.

  “Congratulations!”

  “Thanks.” Julian stood there awkwardly. He had been right and Tristan had been wrong; it did feel creepy having read her biography to the end.

  Theresa sat down in the chair next to him, completely uncaring that it was the boys’ change room. “Have you decided what you are going to do for summer school yet?”

  Julian shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  “It will all work out. If nothing else, you can always stay at the academy for summer school.”

  “Yeah, hopefully.” If I can pay the homestay fees …

  Theresa looked at him. “Is something wrong, Jules?”

  Julian shrugged. “No, I’m fine,” he said. “Just … it feels a bit weird to be done for the year, you know?”

  “Yes,” Theresa said, laughing. “Well, I’ll leave you to get ready, then, you must be exhausted.” She hugged him and kissed his forehead. “You are going to be very good, Julian. You showed everyone that tonight.”

  Kaitlyn walked out to meet her mom and dad. Jeff looked very confused. “Kaitlyn,” he said, “why didn’t you tell me that you weren’t the lead this time?”

  Kaitlyn stared at him. “I thought Mom told you.”

  “I thought that you told him,” Cecelia said, shocked.

  Jeff looked upset. “It feels really good to be in the loop,” he complained. “Last I heard, you got the lead and everybody was happy? What happened? When did things change?”

  “Around January,” Kaitlyn said flatly. “That’s when I found out that I wasn’t going to be dancing Swanhilda. Then I found out that I definitely wasn’t going to be a week ago.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Why didn’t you ask?” Kaitlyn spotted Tristan and Nat leaving the theatre. “Just a second.” She went running after them. “Hey,” she said breathlessly.

  “What’s up?” Tristan asked pleasantly. This was an improvement over the cutting tone he would have used if Nat wasn’t there, and Kaitlyn intended to take advantage of this new charitable side to him.

  “So, are you going to come to the Academy next year?” Kaitlyn asked Nat.

  “I don’t know yet. There is an entire summer to get through. Why the interest, child?”

  Kaitlyn shrugged. “Just curious.”

  “Curiosity killed the cat and made Alice take drugs. I advise you to avoid curiosity at all costs,” Nat answered her. They turned to walk out of the theatre, leaving Kaitlyn behind them.

  “In fact,” Tristan added, stopping and half-turning around; “I don’t even know if I am coming back to the academy in September.” The theatre door closed behind him.

  “What?” Kaitlyn protested.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Fan Page of Vancouver International Ballet Academy

  Have a good summer everyone! Remember to register for summer school. Love, VIBA

  Julian was standing downtown on Granville Street, somewhere between Waterfront Station and Vancouver City Centre Station. He looked at the piece of paper he had in his hand with the list of buses he had to take to get to Alexandra’s.

  “Hey!”

  Is that a 5 or an 8?

  “Julian!” Julian looked up. Leah had stopped illegally in the middle of the street. He ran across and got in the passenger seat, and Leah started the car again to the sound of angry car horns.

  “What’s up?”

  “I thought you’d be on the Island already.”

  “Going home tomorrow. I slept for too long today to finish stuff and still make the last ferry back,” Julian said sheepishly.

  “Where you headed, then?”

  “I said I’d give Alexandra her scholarship — she hurt her foot really bad last night, in the middle of the show.”

  “I know. I was in the audience. You know what, I’ll drive you. I wanted to see how she was doing, anyway.”

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to do that — I can bus.” Julian held out his paper filled with directions as evidence of his bussing abilities.

  “I don’t have to do anything, Julian,” Leah said dryly. “I could move to the Congo if I wanted to. I want to talk to you.”

  “Oh. Cool. Sweet. Um, what about?”

  “
How would you like a job?” Leah said bluntly. “I need somebody to teach my recreational ballet classes, and maybe sub for me on the junior competitive ballet classes.”

  Julian stared at her.

  “You’re going to have to prove that you can talk,” Leah added.

  “Yes, of course!” Julian said. His voice cracked, apparently choosing that moment to hit puberty. “But, don’t you teach those classes?”

  “Yes, but I hate it,” Leah admitted. “I don’t like ballet anymore, Julian. I respect it; I don’t enjoy it. I’d rather be putting more energy into my contemporary classes and my competition pieces. You’re a bit young, but you have the prestige of going to the academy and training with Theresa Bachman, you’re good with kids, and you love ballet.”

  Julian gulped. “Like, when do you want me to start?”

  Leah considered. “Well, we have summer school in early August, but I’m getting guest instructors in to teach that. We do have drop-in classes throughout the summer if you are comfortable teaching ten-to-twelve-year-olds. You’ll be fine, just make sure they don’t all get crushes on you. Be mean.”

  Julian considered. “And then I could work with Frida and we could actually create some repertoire!” he said, excited.

  “Yes,” Leah agreed.

  “Wait.” Julian stopped, his face falling. “I don’t know if I can afford to pay the homestay fees all summer on that though. I don’t want to be rude, but how much do you think I’d be making?”

  “If it doesn’t pay Mr. Yu’s rent, I’ll get you set up somewhere else. Your parents will contribute something, right? I mean, you’re sixteen. If you want to, then we have a deal,” Leah said firmly.

  “So down!” Julian agreed. He let out a whistle, barely able to sit in his seat. “I need to go plan stuff out. I need to talk to George! He’ll know which ballet-class CDs are the best.”