"Hold it! Hold it! I wanna see tears, everyone!"
I felt hot all the way up to the roots of my hair. Not I've been in ninety degree weather hot but hot from the core. It's an internal burn that comes with pain. Oh so much pain. My stomach muscles were spasming, my legs quivering.
"Tatiana, don't you dare lose that pointed toe!"
I chanced a glance over to my left. Tati's tomato red face grew a shade darker as she forced her arch further.
"And pulse it."
There was an audible groan as we all began to do crunches. My legs were begging to be let down from their position in the air. It killed to have them out in a gigantic "V". Perfectly straight. Perfectly pointed. And having to do crunches on top of that. It was pain upon pain.
"And hold!"
Everyone groaned again, this time in relief. It sucked to do the hold-the pain was still there tenfold. But it certainly hurt less than the pulses.
"Three. Two. One. Neutral position!"
There was a sigh of happiness as we collectively lowered our legs and shifted into our center splits. I sighed, laying my body completely flat against my yoga mat and trying to get my breathing under control. I looked to my right at Miranda. She was slouched against her stomach and massaging her inner thighs and hip, a defeated look masked underneath her flipped forward ponytail.
"Five minutes, Joseph? Are you trying to take us out of commission for the rest of the day?"
"Sass only earns you wall sits, Miranda," Joseph replied, a smirk upon his smug instructor face. I'd like to see him take one of his own Conditioning classes. Deal with the rubbish he dishes out upon us.
"Alright, on your backs again. Scissor kicks and we're done for the day."
There was another groan as we all rolled out of our splits and onto our backs. Legs were thrown into the air and back down at a rapid pace. "And hold them...DONE! Good job everyone. Stand up for cool down. Elena, go ahead and lead it for today," Joseph announced slipping from the room.
I could feel every eye upon me as I walked to the front of the room and began to go through a slightly modified cool down routine. There were a few mumbles around me. I could pick them out as snide comments. There was one thrown in there about how I was only teacher's pet because I slept my way to the top.
"Oh bloody hell, Julia. Reign in your jealousy, please and stop being such a cow." Miranda snapped, her voice rising above my commands. There was an offended gasp followed by a stifled giggle and a small snort. Looking in the mirror, my eyes slid to the tall cup of café au lait dwarfing slight Tatiana. Warren looked like he was going to lose it any second so I hurried to end the cool down. He saved his fit of laughter for the noise of everyone packing up their mats.
"I'm flattered you find me so funny, War," Miri grinned, beginning the painstaking process of removing all the pins from her thick blonde curls. I simply yanked the tie from my own dirty blonde tresses, the remainder of my long waves falling from the confines of the tie. It never stayed in the tie anyways.
"Why are you encouraging her?" I sighed, grabbing the corner of my mat and slinging it over my shoulder. A small part of me wondered if I had time to take a quick rinse in the locker rooms before our Contemporary Interpretations class. I could feel the sticky sweat build up beneath the thick band of my sport bra and where my arse met the top of my legs (the shrt dance shorts certainly didn't help). For living and breathing dance I sure hated to feel gross. It was a major defect. I guess I preferred to gain sweat one class at a time.
"It's not so much you, Miri, as Julia's immense ability to be wildly jealous and Lena's knack of supremely ignoring it," Warren replied, throwing a tan arm over my shoulder.
"She needs to get over herself," I shrugged. "I hate the competitiveness. Why can't we all just love dance and do it?"
"Because love doesn't earn you principle roles," Tati stated with a small sigh. Her hand fluttered up to her jet black hair, double checking that every hair was still in place. She gently smoothed an invisible wrinkle from her yoga pants. "It's talent. And when you kick her arse in the 'Contemp Dance Off' next class she can shove her toe shoes up it."
We all blinked at Tati. She was never one to be vulgar in anyway. We left that to Miranda and her loud mouth. She blush furiously and attempted to reorganize her bag while walking.
"She's just annoying."
"I should probably run that number," I sighed, all plans of a rinse down abandoned. Once a week our ultra-hip Contemporary instructor, Jem, decided he was going to have weekly dance-offs. Two dancers go against each other and the winner then advances to dance the next battle. At the end of Summer Holidays we will have a winner. 'A little bit of friendly competition to keep your blood pumping and you on your toes'. Of course by random lottery I got pitted against Julia for the first week, the girl who has been trying for years to be seemingly better than me in every routine and role I do.
When left to my own devices, I'm not one for being competitive, though I have been accused of being ridiculously stubborn on more than one occasion. But it's not so that I can beat someone else; I just love the dance, and the harder I work, the more I can command my body to do exactly as I say. Honestly I think that's what gets me those principle roles. I don't care what I get. As long as I get to dance. Music just speaks to me. I love the way I can contort my body to move. To speak every note and show an audience what the music can mean and do. It's a passion. It's my life.
"I swear if the room is filled with titchy Ballet I students, heads will roll," Miranda announced, yanking the heavy door to the dressing room. Warren and I exchanged a look and a slight eye roll. "Them fawning over you, Elena, is really rather annoying. You should try not being so nice to them."
Thankfully the room was empty save for a few dancers from our conditioning class. Miranda's patience can only take so much. Tati immediately flounced into the women's changing are to change into a leotard, undoubtedly folding her sweaty clothes as she went. The rest of us took the opportunity to collapse upon the plush carpet and beg our muscles to not give out on us further.
"We have an hour, Tatiana! No need to change already!" Warren shouted, throwing an arm over his eyes.
"I want to organize my bag properly!" Came her muffled reply.
Miranda snorted as she dug through her bag and unearthed a gigantic bag of salt and vinegar crisps. I took the excuse of nibbling on a few to delay my rehearsal time. I knew I should but I wasn't comfortable with it. It was a strange feeling. Usually I'm hyper-prepared to the point of almost over preparing. But with this routine, I wasn't so sure. I was trying some new things. Taking the opportunity of not being judge on the number to challenge myself. But lately I've been falling on my arse more often then making the jumps. Not that I would tell my mates that. They expected so much out of me. To 'kick Julia's arse' as Tati so quaintly put. While I don't care how I do because it's dancing and it's natural to me, part of me is going to be very, very embarrassed if I eat it. Lose I can handle. But falling or screwing it all up is something I don't think I can take.
"Are you paying attention, Lena?"
I looked up from the crisp I was trying to nibble precisely in a circle at Warren's expectant face.
"Sorry?"
"I'm trying to tell you guys about my new fella!" he whined, chucking his soft knee brace in my direction. Miranda let out a rather un-lady like snort.
"Do you blame her? There's always a new fella. You're a slag, War."
Cue my mobile.
I thanked the Dance gods that Marcus decided to call me right then. I was far too exhausted to play referee, yet again, with these two.
"Ellie!" Marcus declared, almost blowing my eardrum. I pulled the phone a few inches away from my ear.
"Marc! Are you trying to turn me deaf?" I snapped.
"Sorry, the team is being really loud! Mum just wants me to pick up Missy before getting you so I'll be late picking you up from dance today."
"Can't Missy get her own bloody ride home from the mall? It's not like she goes every single day, yeah?" I groaned, flopping backwards, leisurely raising my legs into the air and doing a few changement.
"Marcus! Get off the phone! Whatever bird you're involved with can wait, yeah?"
"Shut the hell up, it's my sister!"
"The titchy one or the extremely fit one?"
"Oi! That is my baby sister! You do not think of her as fit , or in any way at all!"
"Marcus! Leave him alone! I told you I can take care of myself!" I snapped, cutting my far too over-protective older brother off of one of his tirades with his footie team mates.
"Look, Ellie, I've got to go punch Neil in the face for making lewd comments about you. I'll only be a half hour late-you can deal."
"You do know they probably take supreme advantage of the fact that you are so clearly overtly protective of me and do this stuff on purpose?"
"Bye Ellie-good luck today."
"Bye Marc-have a good practice. Block those footballs and such."
I tossed my phone onto my bag and continued with my changements, slowly raising my legs up higher and then back towards the ground. I was fully aware of the silence in the room but was fairly used to it. As much as Marcus' footie mates made comments about me, my dancer mates returned.
"He single yet?" Miranda questioned calmly.
"He gay yet?" Warren countered.
"He's so dreamy," Tatiana added, emerging from the dressing room with a flutter of her long lashes and wide ice blue eyes.
"You're all disgusting," I groaned, my own gray eyes flashing with slight annoyance. I planted my feet on the ground and lifted myself to standing position. "Now I'm going to change so I can rehearse for class."
There were several cat calls and jeers thrown to my back as I slid the door closed. I was immediately confronted by mirrors. I approached one and cocked my head to the side, my hair falling over one eye. My eyes had softened, leaving them easy and light. I'd had ex-boyfriends describe them as clouds just before a storm or even like a sheep-dogs fur. Marcus says they're like steel when I'm angry or really in the zone dancing. Sharp and unforgiving. I blame my father. They're his eyes and I'm the only one out of four kids that received them.
Slowly I extended one leg to level with my shoulder and placed my arms firmly in first position. My bottom leg was unwavering but my upper body looked strained, not effortless. My abs were still burning from class not twenty minutes ago. I slowly flexed my extended foot and pointed it again, a move that was rather dynamic in my solo dance. I quickly whipped my leg back into an attitude, almost pitching myself forward. I needed to keep my core more in tune. Releasing it may help in turns but it does nothing for me for holds. Groaning at my own incompetence I lowered my leg and quickly changed into my opaque black tights, multicolored dance shorts in lovely shades of blue (a present from my littlest sister, Vanessa) and a turquoise dance bra. I opted out of tying my hair back because of all instructors Jem doesn't care about hair being down. It was one of the reasons he was my favorite instructor. That and he pushes us to try boundaries of ourselves and traditional dance.
Luckily the studio was empty (surprising, really. I would've thought Julia would be furiously rehearsing) so I got right to work. Plugging in my iPod and attaching the stereo remote to my arm. I began working through each eight count. Slowly and methodically taking stride in each move. Each stretch of toes and arms. Each subtle head movement. There was one eight count, a coupè turn into a stationary stag leap. It was more difficult then usual because not only did I only have one leg to launch off of, having one of my feet already curled around my ankle and lower calf, but I didn't have the momentum of a traveling chaînès to help me get off the ground. I've been either horrible sloppy or ending up on my arse. Before I knew it, Jeremiah was shuffling into the room with his multicolored scarves and cane billowing behind him.
"Elena! My lovely darling! Practicing for our little competition today, are we?"
"Hey, Jem. Just trying it out. I decided to put together something new," I shrugged, getting up from the floor and stopping the music.
"Cheerio! Getting into the spirit! Atta girl!"
I rolled my eyes and jogged over to my friends who had just entered the room with the rest of the class. Tati was already looking at me with big eyes as Shawn, her (rather desperate) Pas de Deux partner made a beeline for her. He's been in love with her for God knows how long. Probably as long as they've been partners. But he's a good friend of ours regardless.
"Oh look! The perfect spot on the barre!" she squeaked, zipping around him and taking the worst spot in the whole classroom. It was tucked behind a support beam and everyone avoided it like the plague. You don't come to class late just so you don't have to be stuck there. Miranda and Warren rolled their eyes and followed her over, taking a spot directly in front and behind her. If we didn't 'protect' her we wouldn't hear the end of it.
"I keep telling him to take it easy."
"If he would maybe-I don't know, not be so creepy? Things might just work out for them," I laughed, nudging Devin (another one of our good friends and Miranda's partner) in the ribs.
"Does he ever listen?" Devin tisked, grabbing at my waist and moving his fingers. I squirmed away from him and slapped at his bicep as Jem called the class to attention. Barre felt like it went by unnaturally fast. Center work was a blur. And corner jumps seemed to take a second. As time clicked by I got more and more nervous. Nerves were always something that went hand in hand with me and performing. I always get nervous. Knee shaking, stomach turning, almost fainting nerves. It drives my friends insane. They say someone with my 'talent' shouldn't have nerves to being with. They don't get that that pressure doesn't help to begin with.
It was that one eight count. That bloody eight count. I knew I could easily replace it with something else but I'm stubborn. I choreographed it this way to begin with. It wouldn't flow as well without it. I don't just exclude things because I can't do them. It goes against every fiber of my being to do so. I'd rather make my worst fear come true and fall on my ass then not do something I've set my mind to.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, the time has come. May the leaps fly and the turns be solid. It's time for a throwdown!" Jem declared. There was a cheer. Everyone was thoroughly excited for this aspect. Some for the glory of being the 'best'. It was a big thing-to be the best dancer. Some because it cut out a good three minutes of class. But excitement was there.
"Who shall embark on this adventure first? Miss Miller or Miss Albania?"
Julia and I exchanged glances, her eyes narrowing slightly as her hand shot in the air faster then the speed of light. I blinked at her.
"Oh for the love of Christ, Speedy Gonzales, everyone knows Lena doesn't care about going first," Miri snorted under her breath. I swatted at the back of her head as Devin shook with silent laughter.
"Miss Albania it is! Take the center," Jem declared, clapping his ornate cane against the wood floors twice. Her music started and immediately I began to get in the zone. I pushed everything out of my head. Her music, her dancing, my friends' running commentary and just focused on what I had to do in a short hot minute. Before I knew it applause was ringing around the room and my turn was here. Slowly I took center stage and folded myself into my opening pose; one leg tucked under the extended other and arms breathed behind me. The music started. A haunting piano piece. Speaking of soft movements and slow beating hearts.
And arm, arm, body breath, false lift, down. Slow leg extension into my first big move. An arm planted on the ground and simple move of legs as I lifted myself up and around. I planted the tops of my feet against the ground and spun around myself. And I was up into a simple beat, beat of the feet. Into an arabesque extension, all the way up until I could go no more and was forced into a front somersault.
It was just me and the moves. Me and my body. It knew exactly what to do. Exactly where to go. Exactly how to speak.
Pull upon the force of gravity with my body. Hit, hit, into another somersault move that left my legs extended and graceful. Pull my body up to a standing position, leading the movement with an extended arm. Five pirouettes into an extension of the leg to the side and pulled into a back arabesque. Back up onto the ball of my foot and extend the arabesque to straight. Spiral towards the ground and back up to standing again. Arm, arm out. Palms extended. Body contraction. Step, step, pull with my arms.
The music was easy to move to. Haunting. Languid. It made me want to speak volumes with my body and the way I contorted it to movement. Though I could feel my heart beat speed up. I knew it was coming. I knew the eight count was next. I knew that the one move I haven't been able to hit yet, yet one that I was too stubborn to change, was next. I knew that I was seconds away from either executing an entirely sloppy intermediate jump or falling in front of everyone. The music was reaching that point. A simple kick, extension of my leg and body. The prep for the coupè turn. The turn itself. Around and around five times. I didn't want to do this jump. I should've cut it out of the dance. But it was too late. I had already committed.
And as soon as I felt my muscles prep for the jump I knew I did it wrong. I could feel myself leave the ground. I could feel my legs separating to the stag jump but I knew I wasn't going to catch myself to land. I didn't have enough momentum to control it in the first place. It was like time slowed. Wait. Time is slowing.
It wasn't like my normal tunnel vision. It wasn't like it usually was. Where it felt like time was slowing, time was really slowing. I could pick out proof. Devin was going to scratch his nose but he was doing it in slow motion. Jem was going to put his hand to his heart but he was doing it in slow motion. It was like someone pushed that button on TV that made things go frame by frame. I could feel my body correcting itself. Time was giving me the moment to correct my mistake. I easily and effortlessly landed in the proper way.
And then all the air was sucked into my chest as time regained movement. My mind screamed at me to stop going, to freeze and try to figure out what went wrong. But my dancers instincts kept me going. The muscle memory kept me finishing the dance. An easy center leap, landing on one leg and mimicking my opening pose. Again lift my body back up. Extension of the leg. Flex. Point. Flex. Point. Pulse to the music and slowly fold back to the ground.
My breathing was so fast I thought I might hyperventilate. My heart was pounding. It was different then how I usually felt when I ended my dances. It wasn't that rush of adrenalin. It wasn't the thrill of knowing I nailed it. I was scared about what happened. With the way applause was going it didn't look like anyone even realized what had happened.
"Very, very well done Elena! So graceful! So poignant! We will end with that! Don't forget to leave your votes before you go and we will announce them next class!"
Slowly I lifted myself from the ground, shifting my gaze all around. Why was everyone acting so normal? Why was everyone acting as if that didn't happen? As if the laws of physics weren't interrupted?
"Bloody hell, Lena, that was ridiculous," Miri squealed, crashing into me and almost knocking me off balance.
"That stag leap! How'd you do it without any momentum? Usually only guys have the strength for that!" Warren exploded. I felt my heart pace quicken.
"The extension on it was nearly perfect," Devin added, engulfing me with a hug.
I needed air. I couldn't do this right now. Nobody realized what just happened. I looked normal. It had to be in my head. I probably was far too into the dance at the moment. That had to be it. I was in the zone. I was so in the zone that my mind tricked itself in enabling me to fix my mistake. That had to be it. There isn't any other logical explanation.
And somewhere in Scotland a name glowed bright onto the pages of a book. When its owner looked upon it she almost fell out of her chair. It wasn't ordinary. The only name from this family has been in the books for eleven years and no other siblings had been born. This wasn't a common occurrence. It was one of a kind.