Chapter 8:
"It's so good to be home!" Andi flopped down on her bed for the first time in a week and stretched.
Ryan dropped her bag with a thump and sat down beside her on the bed with a smile. "I'd have thought you'd like Emma's place," he said. "All that room, all those luxuries…good lord," he grinned, "outside of a movie I'd never seen a tub that big! And heated too!"
Andi grinned. "Oh, yeah, that was cool, wasn't it?" Emma had gone out yesterday on some errand or another when Ryan came to see Andi; they had taken the time to explore some of the luxury features of her penthouse apartment. They had come out of the bathroom to find her standing in the hallway. She hadn't said anything, though; she had just looked at them, and kept walking. Ryan had left soon afterward. Emma, surprisingly, hadn't said anything other than, "I trust you were careful. Don't overstrain anything. You're still healing." Emma had paused, then asked, "I trust the book was sufficiently informative?"
Andi had nodded, unable to speak. Then she'd fled to her room, where she hid, mortified, for a while. She decided to keep that to herself, though, and got up, grabbing her bag to unpack it. First to come out was Ali; she propped him in his place of honor beside her pillow and returned to her unpacking. Emma had had Andi's clothes washed by her maids; there were no dirty clothes for the Laundromat. Andi tucked her clean clothes into the drawers, then reached in to the bottom of her bag to take out her shoes. And gasped.
Ryan came over to see what she was looking at, and Andi pulled a box of condoms out with a startled face. He started for a moment, then laughed hysterically. "I guess Emma found out we used one of hers," he said, rolling around on Andi's bed clutching his sides. Andi looked at him, annoyed as she pulled off the little yellow Post-It note on the package. Andi: Figured I should get you your own before you use all of mine. Don't tell your Mom, though. Emma. Andi started giggling, and flopped down on the bed beside him. "This is a brand we haven't used before," she grinned mischievously. "Wanna see if they work?"
* * *
There was considerable stir when Andi walked into her first period class the next day. Surprisingly, most of it was positive; apparently, no one had really liked Candace, and the fact that she was gone relieved the students immensely. Andi handed in the pile of make-up work Ryan had been bringing for her every day, and got what she expected; good marks on everything. Schoolwork seemed to be going fine.
Rehearsals were not. Having been unable to dance for a week, her body had gotten out of practice. By the end of the first rehearsal her feet were hurting, her hips and body were aching and sore, and she was in tears. Madame Dvorovenko, who was helping them rehearse, finally lost her temper. "Eet ees like a board you are, Mademoiselle Munroe! You are a ballerina, not a board! Flow with ze music!" At the end of the practice, she threw up her hands. "You need more practice, Mademoiselle." And she swept out of the studio.
Andi sat down on the floor, crying. Ryan sat down beside her, patting her back consolingly. "Didn't you get any practice over at Emma's apartment? I'm sure you could probably have used the living room for dancing."
Andi pounded her fist on the floor. "The doctors said no dancing for a week. I tried to do some basic stretches and exercises but everything hurt too much, and I just couldn't! Why can't she understand that?" She reached down with her hands to rub an aching calf muscle, and yelped when her hands touched a still-painful skin bruise.
Ryan sighed as she sat down next to her and took her leg in his hands. His hands kneaded the sore muscle as he tried to say what was on his mind. Finally he decided to just go ahead and say it. " Andi—Baby--maybe you should consider not dancing in the show," he said. "I know this was really important for you, and you wanted to do it, but I don't think all those muscle bruises are going to go away in the two weeks we have left before the show opens. After what you went through, I'm sure the teachers will understand."
Andi stared at him, hurt in her eyes. "You want me to drop out?"
Ryan met her gaze squarely. "It's up to you, Baby, but I think maybe you should consider it. There will be other shows. Maybe the spring show. You've been out of class and practice for a week; it's long enough for a dancer to get rusty."
Andi jumped up, tears in her eyes. "Thanks a lot, Ryan. Thanks a lot!" She grabbed her dance bag and disappeared into the girls' bathroom.
Once inside she raced into a stall and slammed the door. She couldn't believe he'd just said that to her. She wanted to dance in the show, she wanted to so badly. She had won her place in the show, and paid the price for it; Candace's hatred. It wasn't fair that she had to lose the coveted spot.
The warning bell rang, and she looked up at the wall clock. She had five minutes to get to Biology. Angrily scrubbing at the tears on her cheeks, she simply yanked her shirt and skirt on over her dance things, stuffed her feet into her regular uniform shoes, and ran out of the bathroom…straight into Ryan.
"Andi, please, listen to me, I didn't mean for that to come out the way it sounded. Look, it's up to you, but I really do think if you try to get into shape two weeks before the show you're going to strain something or hurt yourself, and that would be a horrible thing to have happen. I'm not saying you have to drop out; I'm just saying it might be better for you to give yourself some more recovery time. Promise me you'll think about it?"
Andi stared at the ground, not wanting him to see the tears in her eyes. "Okay, I promise," she said roughly. "Now please move; I'm going to be late for Biology." Ryan stepped aside, and Andi sped off down the hall to the classroom.
She was slightly calmer by the time she joined Rose for the regular ballet class. As they changed in the bathroom, she told her friend what Ryan had said. Rose was in the stall for so long, and was so silent, that Andi first thought something had happened to her. "Rose?"
The other girl came out of the stall, leaned against the bathroom wall as Andi pulled her hair up in a bun, and said, "Andi, I'm your friend, right?"
"Yes," Andi said, puzzled.
"And we're both in the same position, right?" Another nod.
"Andi, I know how important the show is. It's an opportunity for directors from other ballet companies from all over the U.S. to come see you and decide if they want you in their companies. And you deserve to be seen; you're really good, even better than me. But first impressions are the ones that stick in people's minds, and you never have a second chance to make that first impression. If their first impression of you is seeing you fall on the stage in the middle of the school production, they might never look at you again, even if you graduate Julliard at the top of the class and you become the most brilliant dancer in the world. They're always going to see the girl who fell over on stage.
"The school will say that you were chosen to dance, but have been unable to perform because of an injury. Any scouts for the companies sitting in the audience will be impressed that you were chosen. Julliard isn't an easy school. Then they'll think that you recognize your limits, you know when to take it easy, and you don't have such an ego that you're going to try to dance when your body is telling you that you can't. It shows an understanding of your limits, a knowledge of your frailties, and a spirit of humility that a lot of people don't have. It takes more courage to say 'I can't' when you can't than it does to say 'I can' and fall flat on your face. Remember that time Candace twisted her ankle wearing those high heels on the steps?"
Andi nodded.
"Remember she kept insisting she could still dance? And she tried, and halfway through regular class she fell doing an arabesque and ended up getting blood all over the floor from her bloody nose? Remember how humiliating that was for her?" Andi nodded again.
"So don't do the same thing, Andi. Don't make the same mistake of thinking your talent will get you through the show, because it won't. You have to have talent, training, and practice to do the show, and right now you're kind of short on the last two because of what Candace did to you. It's not your fault, and it's not fair, but the last thing you want to do is hurt yourself worse trying to get back up to performance level this soon after a week in bed." Rose fell silent after delivering this bit of wisdom, and left the bathroom.
And Andi realized both she and Ryan were right after she had gotten through her barre exercises. Her extensions were high, but not as high as they used to be. She had lost too much of her flexibility while resting in bed from her ordeal to be able to perform in two weeks. It was going to take at least two weeks just to get her flexibility back! And there were a few places where her body simply refused to do what she asked it to do because the muscle was still bruised.
Madame Michaud criticized Andi's technique, but her tone was much softer when she spoke. The news of what had happened to Andi had been told to her, in confidence, by the principal, and she could see how the girl was struggling to get through the class. It hurt to watch. Andi had an odd sort of fluid grace, almost like a cat, that had made her dancing seem like popcorn popping; quick, light, energetic movements. Now it looked like she was slowing down. She spent more time helping than criticizing, heartened by the effort the girl was putting into her dancing and disheartened every time a residual muscle bruise made Andi flinch. There was no way she was going to be able to dance. When she dismissed the class, she almost went to Andi and suggested that the girl not dance in the show, but Andi looked so tired and sad she didn't have the heart to. She watched the girl leave the classroom being comforted by her friend, and wondered if there was anything that could be done. Probably not.
Andi tapped gently on the door of the principal's office. Jason Matthews looked up. "Miss Munroe! Come on in."
"I won't be long," Andi said softly, stopping just inside the door. "I wanted to come and tell you…that because of my injury…I don't think I'm going to be able to dance in the show." Her voice was scarcely audible, and a tear gathered in the corner of her eye. "I can't even manage a regular class without something hurting. I'm…I'm sorry." The tear rolled down her cheek.
Jason dropped his eyes for a moment to his desk top. "I'm sorry, Andi," he said quietly, finally. "I'm sorry that when I first started hearing the rumors that you were getting picked on, I didn't do something about them right away. If I had maybe this wouldn't have happened. Will you tell Ryan yourself, or should I tell him?"
"I'll tell him," Andi said. "I saw him for rehearsals today, and I was a mess. He told me maybe I should think about not dancing, because I wouldn't be ready in time. I got upset with him, and I shouldn't have, because he was telling me the truth. I have to apologize, anyway."
"Ryan has study hall right now. If you like, I can write you a pass for your history class and you can be excused to talk to him."
Andi shook her head. "No, I'll see him later at the loft. But thank you anyway, Mr. Matthews."
* * *
Ryan turned as the door to the loft opened. Andi stood there, in the doorway. Not trusting himself to speak, he opened his arms. Andi dropped her backpack and ran into them, burying her face in his chest. "I'm sorry, Ryan, I'm so sorry," she wailed. "You were right, and I was being too stupid to admit that I was wrong and that I couldn't get back in shape by the time we were to dance in the show. I'm sorry I yelled at you, I'm sorry I got upset, please for give me--"
He cut off her torrent of words with a long, slow, sensual kiss. "Nothing to forgive, Baby," he said huskily as he carried her over to the couch.
