Breaking Big Page 2

  “I heard that the artistic director wants to do something modern, maybe even something completely new,” replies Mavis. “No way we can guess that.”

  “Your guess can be ‘new and modern.’ You’re in for a dollar. Who else?”

  “Something with props,” guesses Cam. “Props are all the rage. Remember the company that danced with crutches and canes and wheelchairs?”

  Sybille frowns. “But our company is pretty traditional. Surely they’ll do a story ballet. Maybe Giselle?”

  “I guess Sleeping Beauty,” says Johanna.

  “Peter Pan.”

  “Coppélia.”

  It turns out they’re all wrong.

  Three

  The pre-professional program at the Premier Dance School is one of the best in the country. You have to audition to get in, and it’s not only talent the adjudicators are looking for. It’s potential. You have to have the right body and the right attitude as well as the right moves. And even if you get in, you’re not actually in. The first audition is for summer school. They pick kids from right across the country to come to the school for four weeks in July to live, eat and train with each other. It’s like every day is an audition. At the end of the four weeks, you have to go home and wait for a letter. Only the very best get picked to return in September and stay for the whole school year. The stress is mind-numbing.

  I got the letter three years ago. When it came, I couldn’t open it. I took it to my room, laid it on my bed and sat there looking at it. I could hear Mom pacing back and forth in the kitchen, pretending even harder than I was that getting into Premier didn’t matter. She knew how much I wanted it. I finally opened it only because I could hear my dad and my brothers throwing a football around in the backyard. They never do that. They always go to the high-school playing field, because my brothers throw so well they need a huge field to practice in. They were hanging out, waiting for me to open the letter. Everybody was rooting for me, so I opened it, and here I am. Some days I still can’t believe it.

  We all live at the school. It’s three to a room, and Cam, Jer and I always room together. We get bused to a regular public school most mornings for math, science and all that other useless stuff, but at least we only have to do half days. Then it’s back to our real school to work on the important stuff—dance.

  All of us are on full scholarship, so part of the deal is making nice with patrons who donate the money to pay our room and board. It’s a really great school, so we don’t mind too much. Although it feels kind of weird when old ladies dressed in sequins come over to meet us, then talk about our bodies right in front of us. Thighs like that, Marjorie, this strapping young man is going to be a great jumper, don’t you think? Yech. They do it with the girls too. It takes some getting used to.

  So we’re all hanging out near the doors at the back of the theater, ready to hand out donation forms, when the announcement comes. At first there is total silence. Then gasps and groans. The next production is going to be A Midsummer Night’s Dream. And the reason for this nice, safe, traditional choice? Principal dancer Noah Grayson has a tear in his Achilles tendon. He’s out for months. At his age, maybe forever.

  Jeremy’s gone absolutely white. I’d laugh at the look on his face, except this isn’t funny. “Cam, you can’t ever go skateboarding again! Look what can happen!”

  Cam frowns. “Jer, Noah wasn’t skateboarding. That’s crazy. They said he tore it coming out of a jump.”

  “Probably a double tour,” I mutter under my breath.

  “It doesn’t matter how he did it,” Jeremy says. “This could absolutely finish his career!”

  “Calm yourself, Jeremy,” says Mavis, patting him on the back. “It’s kind of tragic, all right, but it’s not your leg. I wonder who’ll dance the lead now that Noah can’t do it.”

  That is so the right thing to say to Jeremy, and I grin at Mavis. With Jer’s family background, we depend on him to get us the inside story on stuff like this. The company dancers are a pretty tight group, but all of them are going to start competing for the top job. It’s a given.

  “Hey, Jer, can you talk to your mom?” I ask. “I bet she knows who will get the role.”

  “On it,” he promises.

  “Hey,” says Charis. “Nobody won the bet. What say we order pizza with the money?”

  * * *

  Next morning the halls are crazy with rumors. Everybody’s got a theory, but nobody’s got any answers, not even Jeremy’s mom. The girls have made these stupid get-well cards for Noah, which they make everybody sign before class.

  “Guess I shouldn’t say, Break a leg, huh?” I whisper to the guys. Cam snorts.

  We warm up and are about halfway through our barre exercises when Miss Amelia, the director of the school, comes into the studio. We keep doing battement tendus while she talks to Mr. Colson. Devant, à la seconde, derrière—front, side, back. Balancing on one foot while we slide the other toe to the front, the side and the back, stretching our insteps over and over again. Then Mr. Colson signals the pianist to stop playing and looks straight at me.

  “Robin, will you please go with Miss Amelia?” he asks.

  I sigh. I guess it was too much to expect odious Odette to keep quiet about why she was late for class. But the situation gets a little more intense when Mr. Colson hands the class over to the rehearsal assistant and comes with us. None of us say a word as we walk down the hall toward the office, and I’m starting to get a little nervous. It was just a joke.

  Miss Amelia opens her office door and waves us in. Bellamy Acton, the artistic director of the company, is waiting for us. Whoa. I’ve never even talked to him before. I mean, he was part of the audition committee, but after that, nada. He doesn’t mess with mere students. Surely I’m not getting kicked out? It was only a prank!

  My brothers the football hulks taught me that the best defense is a good offense, so I launch right into my apology. I’m good at apologies. I’ve had a lot of practice. But I’ve barely gotten a word or two out when I see Mr. Colson from the corner of my eye. He’s shaking his head slightly. I shut up. He doesn’t want me to apologize?

  Mr. Acton tells me to sit down.

  “I suppose you’ve heard that Noah Grayson has been injured and is unable to dance?”

  I nod my head slowly.

  “His injury means that we have to make some changes to the company roster until he’s able to dance again.”

  Until he’s able to dance again? I’m pretty sure Mr. Acton really means if Noah is able to dance again, but there’s no way anybody here is going to say that out loud.

  “We chose A Midsummer Night’s Dream because many of the fairy characters can be danced by either male or female dancers. Since we have more females in the company, it gives us more scope in casting. All the same, we are a little short of men.”

  I’m starting to have a little trouble breathing. Does he mean me? Does he want me to dance with the company?

  Mr. Acton starts to smile a bit. “I can see by your face that you’re starting to catch on. The answer is no, we are not giving you a place in the company. You have potential, Mr. Goodman, but you also have a lot of work to do. What we are offering is a chance for you to understudy one of the roles. Even though you won’t be performing, it will give you some experience, and quite frankly, I am loathe to enter into rehearsals without an understudy for each of the major roles.”

  Major roles?

  “We’ve cast Rick Mathews as Puck,” Mr. Acton continues. “Would you like to understudy the part?” Then I get another one of his little grins. “I hear that playing the role of a mischievous sprite would be quite appropriate for you.”

&n
bsp; I am speechless. Puck! The coolest role in ballet, in my humble opinion. Puck! I can’t get it into my head. Would I like to understudy Puck?

  “It would be an honor, Mr. Acton,” I say before he can change his mind. Then a horrible thought crosses my mind. “Ah, this isn’t a joke, is it?”

  “In retaliation for something you’ve done?” Another grin from Mr. Acton. “Hardly,” he adds drily. “My pranking days are over.”

  It’s amazing that another ballet dancer even had pranking days. I’m going to like working with Mr. Acton. Everybody’s smiling now, and there are papers to sign, and I get a rehearsal schedule and a lecture about hard work and discipline. Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’m going to understudy Puck! I pretty much fly out the door and race back to class.

  “So how much trouble are you in this time?” Odette says with a sneer. Cam and Jeremy look concerned, and even Charis seems a little worried.

  “I’m going to understudy Puck!” I whoop.

  Their faces go blank. And then I see the news start to seep in, and Cam is the first to react. He starts jumping up and down and then he grabs my hands, and I’m jumping up and down too.

  “Way to go!” he cheers.

  Jeremy doesn’t cheer. He just stands there, looking dazed. “They asked you?” he finally says.

  What the heck? “Is that such a crazy idea?”

  “Well, it’s kind of unexpected, don’t you think?” he replies.

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “Nothing, man.” Jeremy shakes my hand stiffly. “Ah, congratulations, Rob.”

  The girls all look a little shocked—except for Odette, who’s furious. “Boys get all the luck,” she says angrily. “And you? No way you deserve it.” Then she stalks out of the studio, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence.

  “Ah, really, it’s great, Rob,” says Charis finally. “We’re happy for you, aren’t we?” She looks around at the others.

  “Oh yeah, of course,” they chime in.

  “Way to be enthusiastic,” I grumble. “Look, maybe there’ll be more understudy parts.” The others brighten a little at the thought. “And if not, at least one of us can uphold the reputation of the Premier Dance School!” I add cheerfully.

  “That’s what we’re worried about,” Mavis says. She pauses, then shoots a small grin my way. She means it as a joke. At least, I think she does.

  Four

  Jeremy, Cam and I head to the change room. Jeremy has gone all quiet, but he does that sometimes. Cam is chattering mindlessly, eyes darting back and forth between Jer and me.

  Then Jeremy cuts into Cam’s babble. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, Rob? It’s a big step, and you don’t have any experience working with the company.”

  Is he kidding? “Well, duh. This is how I’m going to get some experience! It’s not like anybody else from our class has danced with the company.”

  “Actually, I have,” he replies. “I played one of the little fairies when I was a kid. Did you know Puck’s solo ends with a double tour? Are you going to be able to do it?”

  “Geez, Jer, they wouldn’t have picked me if they didn’t think I was ready.” I don’t really want to think about the double tour.

  “All they know is that you’ve got potential. Nobody knows if you’re ready!”

  “What are you getting at, Jer?” I ask. I’m angry now. “You want me to say, No, I won’t do it? Maybe say you should do it instead? I never pegged you as the jealous type.”

  “Get over yourself, Rob! I’m not jealous. I’m just looking out for you,” he retorts. “You should really think about this. If you blow it, it could be the end for you with the company.”

  “And the beginning for you?” I shoot back.

  “Give me a break!” Jeremy’s shouting now, and Cam looks scared. “We’re friends! I didn’t mean that I wanted the part.”

  I jam my stuff into my locker and head for the door. “Well, thanks for the great advice. And the support and encouragement.” I make sure to slam the door on my way out. I can’t believe him. I’m not stupid. I know that being an understudy is going to be hard, but nobody—nobody—says no when a chance like this comes up. You’d be crazy to refuse. I was counting on the guys to help me through it—help me practice, maybe—because the company dancers aren’t going to pay me much attention. But that doesn’t look likely, not with them acting all put out because I was the one who got the break.

  Unless, of course, I can bring them around. Why can’t we all get something out of this? They help me, and I bring back what I learn from the company?

  It sounds completely reasonable to me.

  * * *

  I’m the last one to the cafeteria for lunch, and there’s hardly any room left at our table, so I have to push in. Did they forget I was coming? “Somebody must be putting on the pounds!” I joke as I make everybody shift over.

  Nobody laughs. “You’re going to be the only student understudy,” reports Jeremy. “I checked.”

  “Oh. Wow.” What else can I say?

  “So it’s only you representing the school,” adds Johanna. “Mavis is right. That’s a scary thought!” Everybody laughs, although I don’t know if it was meant to be funny.

  “So maybe you guys could help me practice?” I ask. “Mr. Acton won’t want to spend much time with the understudies.”

  There’s an awkward silence. Charis finally speaks up. “That probably won’t work,” she says. “Mr. Acton won’t want us sticking our noses into it. We might say the wrong thing and mess you up.” The others nod in agreement. “Don’t worry—you’ll be fine.”

  Conversation around the table starts up again. Sybille goes back to mooning over Rick, Mavis reminds her that company members can’t fraternize with students, Johanna makes a rude comment about some girl’s weight (why do they laugh when she says it?), Cam tells Jer about this new song he’s downloaded, but of course Jer isn’t listening because he’s all basset hound over Sybille, and everything is the same as it usually is, except that I’m invisible. I really, really didn’t expect this.

  I inhale the bean salad and shove off early.

  “I’ve got math homework,” I say. “See ya.”

  Cam’s the only one to say goodbye. Things are really bad when math is more appealing than hanging with your friends. If they’re still my friends. I can’t believe the attitude, but I’m going to stop thinking about it. They’ll come around—I know they will. And I might as well do math while I can, because I won’t have much time for it once rehearsals start. At the door, I take a look back over my shoulder, then wish I hadn’t. My whole table is quiet, watching me leave. And I hear Mavis say, just loud enough to reach my ears, “This is all we need. As if his head isn’t big enough!”

  * * *

  Class that afternoon is devoted to preparing for the dance exams, which is incredibly boring. I hate dance exams. Doing the moves in front of a panel of grumpy old dancers seems so fake, but it’s a requirement, and Mr. Colson expects us to take it seriously. Odette shines at this kind of work. I bet if she were a pianist, she’d love doing scales all day long. She’s that sort of girl. Usually Charis and I make funny faces at each other in the mirror to make the time go by, but today she won’t let me catch her eye.

  After class I grab Charis’s arm. “Hey, you missed my best face!” I leer at her.

  “You’re ridiculous,” she says with disdain. “Do you honestly think the company’s going to appreciate that sort of nonsense?”

  “Not you too! Come on, Charis. I thought we were friends.”

  She whirls around, looking so fierce that I drop
her arm and put my hands up in surrender. “Whoa! Calm down!”

  “Friends? You’re such an idiot. We’ve never been friends, not ever. Don’t you see?”

  “No, I don’t see.” I really am confused. “Pizza? Pranks? A couple of laughs so we don’t think about how much our bodies hurt? Eating meals together, sharing class? That’s not friends?”

  “No. That’s not friends,” Charis says, slumping a little. “That’s pals. And it’s okay to be pals, for a while anyway, but we can never be friends. None of us can.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “Think about it. We all want to dance. There are twenty of us in our year alone. How many places open up in the company each year? Not twenty, that’s for sure. This isn’t a team situation—it’s a competition. A competition for our futures, and we only get one chance.” Charis puts her back to the wall and slides dejectedly down on her heels. “Maybe you don’t get it because you’re a guy. Cam doesn’t want to be in the company, and there’s probably room for both you and Jeremy, because you two are the best of the senior boys. But us girls? There are dozens of us for every single spot. How do you think I’m going to feel when Sybille and Johanna and I are all trying to get the last place in the company? If I get the place, they’ll hate me. If one of them gets it, I’ll hate them. We can’t be friends, Rob. It will hurt too much in the end.”

  I slide down to the floor beside her. Why do girls make everything so complicated? “I still don’t get it. You and I don’t have to compete, so can’t we be friends at least?”

  Charis shakes her head sadly. “Girls can play Puck too, you know. I mean, Puck’s a fairy, for heaven’s sake! Who knows if fairies even have genders? If I’d been given this chance, I’d have a real leg up for a company spot. You don’t need this break, but I do. I’m sorry, Rob, but I wish it was me instead of you. They probably only gave it to you because they wanted Rick in the role, and it was easier to have a male understudy.”