Chapter 20

Melody's alarm blared at six in the morning, but I was already awake, as Misty always woke me five minutes before so that I could cover her apparently sensitive ears. She was a smart cat. I always went to bed at around nine-thirty, as Joffrey rarely went past six in the evening, unlike during the school year. This was because the majority of the dancers weren't homeschooled, though, so I understood.

"Hey, sis," Melody mumbled at 6:10 in the morning. "Any nightmares?"

"Nope, slept like a log. I did dream that I was being chased by James Bond- the Pierce Brosnan version- but it wasn't really a nightmare. How did you sleep?"

"Ursula and I will make a Bond fan out of you yet," Melody yawned. "I slept fine, these long classes are making me very tired. You'll be able to make my art show this afternoon, right?"

"Yup, half day on Fridays, so I won't even have to miss class. Ursula is coming too."

"Oh, awesome. I'm glad that worked out so neither of us needed to stress too much."

It was my turn to make breakfast, so I cooked some egg and cheese sandwiches before Melody and I went our separate ways- usually we hung out more but I had YAGP class and she needed to prepare for the show where she had a studio to show off and possibly sell her artwork. She did all styles but preferred landscapes and, oddly enough, Cubism was a new phase in her painting. I don't know who we'd inherited our work ethic from, but it certainly wasn't our parents.

"Good morning, Joanne," Mr. Jackson greeted me when I got to the studio. "First as always. I'd like to see everyone's solos and how they're coming along today. We'll do it in reverse age order."

I was right in the middle of the growing group, so it didn't matter much to me. Watching the others go, especially the older ones, was always a rewarding experience.

Mr. Jackson had a surprise for all of us- we'd be doing a turn competition after warm-ups, no pointe shoes allowed as the younger dancers weren't old enough and it wouldn't be an even playing field.

"This isn't meant to make anyone feel bad. Older dancers should have more stamina than younger ones. I think that this is a fun way to let me see where each of your turns are at," Mr. Jackson told us. "Line up and make sure that you won't hit anyone else while pirouetting, so two body-lengths away from each other. Go by height, so sorry Joanne, you're with the littles."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "I'm not that short, they're just tall."

Still, I moved in between two of the nine-year-olds when it was time to turn, and practiced setting up the pirouette. My turns were one of my greatest strengths as a dancer- I had natural talent, good strength from the gym and core workouts, and great endurance.

"Okay, everyone ready? Good. Three, two, one... start!" Mr. Jackson called out. I went right into pirouettes, counting each one, and blocked everything else out. This was my happy place. I turned until I couldn't anymore, my legs aching, finishing without falling out of them..

"Fifty, impressive," Mr. Jackson told me. "Good form, and you spot excellently, your head movement is nice and sharp. You all looked strong. Maggie, I noticed that you're letting your extended leg get sloppy. Harley, you fell out of your turn because your head isn't spotting quickly enough." He went through corrections for the group then had the Seniors show their dances, which they did, showing quite a bit of improvement. I had my pointe shoes on and was preparing while they performed, something that was acceptable in this class as long as I did so quietly.

"Joanne, you're up. Show us your Classical first."

I moved to the center of the room, taking a deep breath to clear my head, and began with the music. I was finding responding to the music while executing the moves a bit difficult, but I thought that I did pretty well that time. I finished and practiced my walk offstage in character.

"It's solid," the dance teacher told me. "Your technique is sharp and accurate, but you're not emoting as much as you'll need to in order to place well at the final. This character is vibrant and joyful, and I'm not quite getting that."

"Thank you," I responded. "I'll keep working on that."

"I would hope so. Let me see your Contemporary, it's en pointe now, yes?"

I nodded, and switched the music before taking position. I gave a lot of emotion and did well overall, but stumbled on a few of the harder moves because of the pointe shoes.

"The stability will come with practice," Mr. Jackson told me. "You have two and a half months before the final and it's already quite good. Keep working."

Buoyed by the positive feedback, I went to my next class, Strength, feeling good about myself. This was held in the gym and was pretty low-key, as we did our exercises, spotted each other, and were pretty chatty. It was a class with Ursula, which was always a fun time. We talked and were each other's spot the whole time.

Then it was time for Lyrical, where we were learning a combination for our end-of-summer showcase. I had one of the featured roles in the dance, playing a daughter who was trying to get back to her mother, Harley (who looked older than her sixteen years). It was something that Abby would come up with, but with better choreography. I was in a few lifts with boys, which I always enjoyed. None of us used much expression when rehearsing for the first half of class, so I let my face fall flat and focused on getting the lifts right.

Yelena Borosova, the teacher, was a stone-faced Russian who didn't suffer fools or laziness, and the boy who was doing most of the lift basing for me was getting on her nerves. "Lysander, you look shaky. It is a tragic family story, not a dance where somebody gets dropped on her face. Joanne, extend your back leg more, and turn it out completely. Try that again. The rest of you, I need to see more synchrony, it looks like eight solos."

All of the others were older than me and none were particularly nice about it, but they were quiet in class. I think it bothered them that I had a lead, but they'd just sink themselves with that attitude. Last summer I'd gotten no leads or special parts and been fine with it, as I'd still been recovering from my injuries and not been able to put the time I needed to earn that in. Lysander actually did drop me the next time, and I just avoided twisting my ankle badly, letting myself fall onto my behind. Being able to fall safely was key when being a short girl in a group dance setting.

"Idiot boy!" Ms. Borosova barked. "I see that your physical strength means little when compared to your mental weakness. Who of you boys can pull off this lift?"

Patrick, a quiet fifteen-year-old, volunteered himself. Ms. Borosova sent the others off for a bit so that we could learn the lift as a pair. "Are you injured?" She asked me in Russian, which I was picking up as my new language that summer.

"No, ma'am. I'm just fine."

"Good." The teacher switched back to English. "We must start over now. Try lifting her a bit off the ground, hands on her hips..."

Patrick and I learned the lift and stayed over time before we were dismissed. Ursula waited at the front desk.

"Sorry, babe, I had to switch lift partners. How were your classes?" I gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

"All good. I was just reading." She smiled warmly at me. "Lunch at your place? Mom and Jason are out today, so I'll be lonely at home." Her amicably divorced parents had an agreement where she would spend the school year in Pittsburgh with her father and the summers in Manhattan with her mother and stepfather, who were expecting twins, a boy and a girl, together now, much to her excitement- she didn't want to be an only child anymore.

"Yeah, we'll have to pick up groceries on the way, though. Mel also asked us to bring her dinner so I'll make extra."

Ursula played with Misty while I cooked some pasta, and we sat and had a leisurely lunch, mostly talking about dance drama.

"Sydney and Fred broke up," Ursula informed me. "It was apparently pretty ugly- he slept with someone else and she'd been on dating websites."

I snorted. "I guess they're mutually bad at being loyal, then. I don't get it. If you stop feeling attracted to your partner, why not just tell them? Then you can break up and won't cheat if you sleep with another person. Not that kids our age should be having sex anyway."

"I was curious about that, actually," Ursula said. "So, I agree that we shouldn't have sex at twelve and thirteen even if we were anywhere close to that point in our relationship, but what about if we're still together in two, three years? How do you feel about sex before marriage?"

I thought for a moment. "That one's interesting, because a lot of the conversation around that applies to heterosexual intercourse and virginity. It's something I'd need to talk with the Fathers at the church about, but I would say that making out or feeling each other up wouldn't be out of the question. We're not there yet anyway."

Ursula nodded. "I respect that. I'm happy with where we are, it's a nonissue right now. I just wanted to mention it."

"I appreciate that," I promised her. "I'm glad that you've been so accepting of my beliefs."

She shrugged. "As long as you don't try to convert me or become a nun or something."

I laughed. "Not something I want to do."

A few hours later, we took a taxi to Melody's art show, which featured her and three others. I only knew what she told me about art so was complimenting every piece to her.

"There's a few mistakes," she told me about a landscape of the city. "They're not perfect pieces."

"Good enough to be in an art show," I responded gently. "I would buy it if I wasn't your sister and get your art for free."

"Oh, really? You think that?" Melody's eyes glimmered playfully. "You make money. Maybe you'd get a discount, but you're not getting my art for free. Ursula can."

I scoffed, faking hurt. "You wound me, Mel."

Melody sold a few of her pieces, and Ursula was picked up by her mom. Then Melody and I headed home and to bed. It was a good, if tiring, day overall.