Chapter 10: Ellie's Secret
When you learn to do a pique you can dance. When you learn to do a fouette you're a dancer. But it's not until you learn to cope with pain that you're a -BALLERINA-
I left my room a few hours later with my dance bag slung over my shoulder, dressed in a black leotard and skirt. My mood seemed to call for black.
As I was walking down the hall, searching for an empty practice room, I sensed someone's presence behind me. A couple of times, I even turned around, searching for the person who could be following me. Nothing. I sighed and plodded on. Curious…too curious…
Finally, I found a room that wasn't occupied by another dancer. I turned the lights on and shut the door. I sat on the floor and pulled out my pointe shoes. I stretched and warmed up quickly and then put my shoes on, ready to work on technique.
The second I got up on releve, I knew this wasn't my night. I wobbled while I was standing on my tiptoes, and I felt the pain almost instantly in my foot. It was then I realized I had done absolutely no ballet work over my holiday. That meant I was going to be in an awful lot of pain later…and my feet would be mummified in Band-Aids.
I pulled my left leg into an arabesque. My right leg wobbled like a wet noodle, to my dismay. I changed my leg position to attitude and I almost fell over. I stepped out of releve. I hadn't even begun doing any really difficult technique, and I was already having trouble!
Okay, don't get frustrated, I told myself calmly. It suddenly occurred to me that I'd been talking to myself in my head an awful lot through the past twenty-four hours. Not a good sign.
I did five piques in a row, trying to get myself worked up to the higher technique. They were sloppy, and I traveled in zigzag pattern across the room.
Get a grip on yourself, Hermione, I said to myself. I was extremely frustrated now. What was my bloody problem?
A switch leap. A cabriole. A tour en l'air. All of them were rubbish. My legs floated and wobbled sloppily in all three of them. My arms waved as if I was a swimmer, not a ballerina.
Fouettes! I'll do fouettes! I thought, trying to cheer myself up. I loved fouettes-once you learned to do three in a row, you could do them for ages. Plus, I was good at them-they required a lot of attention to the body, though I'd perfected them so much, sometimes I could just let my mind wander as I spun like a top.
I prepped and then began the turns on my left foot. Ah….I could do it! I spun for half a minute, convinced I was back on form, though I seemed to be out of shape; I was breathing hard. I hadn't been this out of breath since….
Then I remembered. I fell to the ground, shaking. The fall hadn't jarred me as much as the recollection of what I'd-or rather, we'd-done. Why did it have to affect me like this?
I stood wearily and threw myself into a triple pirouette. I hadn't even turned once before I crumpled to the floor in a heap, my knees buckling. I was too exhausted to cry, though tears leaked out of my eyes anyway.
"Hermione?" A tentative voice spoke at the door. I raised my head to see Ellie standing there, looking (for once) very serious.
"Go away," I choked. "I'm trying to practice." I tried to stand, got halfway up, and fell to the ground.
"Don't." She rushed over and sat next to me on the floor.
"Here." She handed me a Milky Way bar. "Eat, you need sugar in your blood; you haven't eaten since you've been back, have you?"
I stared at her. Of course I hadn't, but why would she care? I set the candy bar on the ground next to me.
"Listen," Ellie began, "Malia told me about what happened with you and Ron."
My eyes widened in shock. "Malia told you?" I would never forgive her.
"She told me because she knew I could help you, Hermione."
"Help me?" I snorted. "How? How could you help me? I'm not the one who gets drunk every weekend!" Ellie gaped at me. Even in my bitterness, I felt guilty about my rude remark. "Sorry," I whispered.
"She knew I could help because she knew what I'd been through."
Huh?
Ellie smoothed a stray hair out of her face. "Please don't tell anyone else about this. You're the second person here I'm telling, and it's really personal."
I nodded. Ellie took a deep breath.
"Before I came to Julliard, I was going to high school in Texas while I took dance outside of school. I was happy, I had lots of friends, and I had a steady boyfriend. His name was….Bryce." Her voice shook a bit. "We had been together for all four years of high school, and we were planning on getting married after we graduated. Then I got accepted to Julliard, and everything changed.
"He begged me not to go, but I did. I'd been dancing ever since I could walk, and this was Julliard-the big time! I could be a star! I told him I'd go off to school, graduate from Julliard, and come back and we could get married then, like we'd planned. See, he couldn't afford school in New York with me.
"Even though I thought I was doing the right thing in my mind, it sure didn't feel like it. I cried everyday for two weeks straight. I wanted to go home so bad. But I forced myself to stick it out. We got through it with phone calls and emails-until he got drafted into the Navy.
"After he left, the letters, emails, and phone calls stopped. I figured it was because of boot camp, and they would resume eventually, but they didn't. Two years ago, on this very day, I found out he'd been killed in an accident."
I gasped, horrified. Poor Ellie….
"Since then, I've tried so many ways to forget about him," she said, beginning to cry. "Now, I just drown my sorrows in alcohol and dance to try to forget about everything. It never works, though-I wonder, every day-every day, Hermione!-how it would have turned out if I didn't leave him behind."
I let her sob into my arms for a few minutes. As she was beginning to calm down, I gently asked, through my own tears, "Ellie, why are you telling me all this?"
"I see it in your eyes already, less than a day after. You love him, but you left him for what, a fancy dance school? It's not worth it. I don't want to see you drinking until you throw up on your weekends; I don't want to see you selling yourself to guys just to forget the one you love. You're too good for that, Hermione. I have nowhere else to go-it's too late for me-but you still have Ron; he isn't gone yet. Please, Hermione, go back to him. For my sake as much as yours and his. Otherwise, you'll regret it for the rest of your life." She sobbed uncontrollably now.
A single tear streaked down my cheek. Ellie's tale had been moving, but the subject was closed. I was staying and I was going to be okay, even if it hurt in the beginning. I would be just fine.
Right?
A/N: Hang on tight guys….the BIG chapter's coming….hopefully soon, I don't know what my schedule's going to be like, but hopefully it'll be up soon!
Shouts:
Valentines-hater: Yeah, she is stupid. That's all I have to say.
UnderAppreciated: There is a rational explanation for not being able to Apparate (well, actually, it's illegal-it'll be explained in the next chapter). But I could never leave Ron, either. I love him, too!! The final solution will be good, though, I promise!
KateM: Glad you think I don't deserve flames!! That makes me happy! No, Ron is not coming to NYC, sorry…
Anyone else: Review!!! And continue to NOT freak out about Hermione leaving!