Vaughn looked at Sydney. Because she was packing her bag, the top with its neat part hovered near him. He could see the sweat around her hairline. What were mum's instructions about scary situations? Disengage brain. Put mouth in fifth gear. Cruise.
"Good class," he said. "Thanks for lending me your teacher."
"Well, you asked."
He didn't know what to say next. He realized with incredulity that everything he knew about her could probably be written on the back of one of her small, slim fingered hands. How could he push away such a mountain of ignorance?
He stuffed his ballet shoes into his and pulled on his trainers. "Um… what about Miss Perry's address?"
"Oh." She pushed the door with her shoulder. "I don't have it with me."
"Don't you know it?" Vaughn grabbed his bag and held the door open for her. He tried not to embarrass himself by bumping against her as they turned into the street.
"Well, I know where the house is, but she asked me to give you the address."
A light rain began to fall, giving the pavement a sweaty sheen. Though it was before nine o'clock on a mid September evening, the low clouds and the trees lining the street made it almost dark. Vaughn, baffled by her words but fearful of offending her, said nothing.
"Can you see alright?" she asked him suddenly. "For god's sake don't trip. These tree roots along here are lethal."
She knew, then. She understood how much the audition meant to him.
"Stairs are the worst," she added, transferring her bag to her other shoulder. "It makes me go cold just thinking about it sometimes."
A picture of Miss Fitzgerald falling down the stairs came into Vaughn's mind. "Don't worry," he told Sydney. "I'm always careful."
"I think it's wonderful," she said.
"What is?" asked Vaughn, had he missed something?
"That you are doing the audition. I mean, you should. You must."
"Well…"
"Can I tell you something?" she took a step closer to him. On her face was a conspiratorial, secret-divulging expression. "You know at the end of class, when we did our reverence?" Vaughn nodded. "Well, when you did yours, I felt – I don't know – excited."
"Why?" Vaughn was bewildered, but interested.
"Because when you put your hand on your chest and bowed, you looked like… oh, a dancer, I suppose."
In a rush, she became embarrassed and dipped her head. Vaughn stared at her. He couldn't think of what to say. Then he suddenly remembered that his hair was still in its ponytail. He pulled the band out and swiftly around his wrist, raking his fingers through his hair.
They walked on. Through the gloom he noticed Sydney had glanced at his hairdressing efforts with interest, but when he tried to look at her she turned her head away.
"Erick's going to be furious with you for not going to practice tonight," she said. "I thought the Tigers were the flacons' biggest rivals."
"They are," confirmed Vaughn.
"But you're going to Miss Perry's on Saturday, aren't you?"
They looked at each other. The decision was making itself. "My lesson's scheduled for kickoff time," said Vaughn blankly. "I've got to tell wiess. I mean, I've got to tell him that I'm giving up the Falcons altogether. I mean for this season. Until I get the result of the audition, I mean. If I do the audition, that is." Something must have been making him nervous. Why else would he be babbling like this, spewing a stream of absolute nonsense?
"I'm glad I'm not you," she said.
They continued in silence until the trees cleared and they came out onto the main road by the football and athletics club, the car park that had witnessed their encounter with Jake last Saturday. The place was deserted. Football training was over. Vaughn knew that Mr. Bristow would be in the pub across the road, on the bar stool that he occupied every night.
Now they'd walked this far together, Vaughn couldn't easily desert her in this darkness. But he'd never escorted a girl home before. He tried to unravel the tangle of feelings this gave him. Pride, because she was nice-looking, although there was no one around to see that she was with him. Relief, because he'd often wondered if he was going to grow old – possibly even die – without ever having taken a girl to her front door. And fear, definitely, because now he had to worry about what to do when they actually reached the door.
It was ajar. "I'm always losing my key," explained Sydney, "so Jean doesn't let me have one anymore."
"Why not just ring the doorbell?"
"Jean's always bathing the children when I get home, and Erick is too lazy, and dad wont be home for ages."
They stood self-consciously on the doorstep. Sydney pushed open the front door. Her cheeks still looked a bit pink from ballet class. "Why not come in and see Erick now?" she offered. "And I'll find that address."
The hall was full of children's bicycles. From where he stood on the doorstep, Vaughn could hear splashing and shrieks, and the booming of music. Syd's stepmother, jean, appeared at the top of the stairs with her sleeves rolled up and her normally neat fringe sticking up in horns at each side. "Come and do something with Nadia, will you?" she called to Sydney. "Tom is being a little monster."
Vaughn was still outside and Sydney didn't reveal his presence. She nodded towards the narrow passage beside the stairs. "Erick's in the kitchen, I expect. I will be back as soon as I can."
When Vaughn entered the kitchen, wiess was kneeling in front of the open door of the fridge, reaching inside. All Vaughn could see of him was his bottom, encased in jogging pants and the soles of his size 11 trainers.
Vaughn couldn't resist. Although it was a gentle kick with the toe of his shoe, it startled wiess. His head came up fast and hit the top of his head on the top of the fridge. "What the hell…?" he sat back on his heels and looked around, rubbing his head.
"Yello," said Vaughn, which was how he and wiess always greeted each other.
Weiss's expression changed from one of surprise to one of resentment. "Piss off, you lazy slob," he said. "Coach says you're dog meat and he's right."
"I know," said Vaughn with more bravery than he felt. He slid his ballet bag off his shoulder and lowered it onto the floor.
Wiess stood up, kicked the fridge door closed and glowered at Vaughn, a carton of milk in one hand and an apple in the other. "Where the hell were you?"
He crunched the apple, his gaze fell first on Vaughn's bag, then on Vaughn, then, with narrowed eyes, on the red ponytail band around Vaughn's wrist. "Oh my god, I know where you were! You were at my sisters dancing class!" bits of apple escaped from his mouth. "For Christ's sake, Vaughn, what do you think you are up to?"
"Well…"
"How can you let that stupid…"
"It's nothing to do with your sister. I lost my ballet teacher so I decided to try Miss Perry."
"Oo-ooh!" wiess struck a mock ballet position, spilling milk on the floor. "Ai lorst mai ballay teachah so ai decaided to trai Miss Perr-ee!"
"And she does her senior class on Thursdays," said Vaughn, trying to ignore both the mockery and his desire to laugh at it.
Wiess wasn't laughing. He put down the carton and pointed at Vaughn. "You let me down this season," he told him steadily, "when we've got out first real chance to win the shield, and I'll bloody murder you. Personally, in cold blood."
"Calm down will you?" said Vaughn, though he knew wiess couldn't. His passion for soccer was almost as intense as Vaughn's for ballet. In the part of his brain where he stored his I-don't-want-to-think-about-this-now thoughts, Vaughn registered the fact that whichever of the two passions was sacrificed, ether he or his friend would suffer.
Wiess's eyes burned. Vaughn could tell his brain was racing, trying to work out how to put together a team without Vaughn, trying to imagine what to tell his dad. After a pause, he stopped pointing and picked up his carton of milk. "Sometimes I can't believe what a tosser you are Vaughn."
Vaughn sighed. "Look nothing's decided. But I might consider the possibility of going to ballet school next year instead of staying at our school."
Wiess just stared
"And if I decide to do that, I would have to give up soccer."
Wiess went on staring.
"I mean," said Vaughn as reassuringly as he could, "it's not as if the falcons are in the Premier League or anything, is it? And if I fail the ballet school audition, which I probably will, I'll be back playing again next season."
"But next season's to late!" Wiess's eyes were lit with hurt pride. "Jake's got to leave at Christmas because he's turned 18 remember? Just how crappy are we going to get if you leave too? Were going to end up bottom of the league in the very year we should be top!"
"That's not true."
"Yes it is." Wiess sat down on a stool and drank some milk absent-mindedly. "It's bloody obvious."
Vaughn felt guilty and genuinely sorry. He didn't know what to say. Then he noticed the dancing magazine, even more dog-eared than it had been on Monday, peeping out of his bag. He turned to the page and offered it to wiess. "Here read that."
Mournfully, wiess read the advertisement. Then he held magazine towards Vaughn with the tips of his fingers, as if handling it might challenge his masculinity. "You know what your step-dad's going to say don't you?"
Vaughn took the magazine. "I've still got to try Erick."
Wiess shrugged. His round face and thick brown hair, familiar to Vaughn for so many years, suddenly looked eight years old again. He'd been let down. His lower lip stuck out as he tried to get a grip on his chin, which wanted to quiver.
"I haven't got any more time to mess around," explained Vaughn. "if I do this audition, and pass it, I'll have to do another audition, and if I pass that…" he couldn't finish the sentence. The possibility of actually going to the ABA suddenly seemed as remote as that soccer scholarship. "Anyway, that's how it is. I'm sorry about letting the boys down, but in a couple of weeks I bet you wont even miss me."
"Oh sure." Wiess had mastered his moment of weakness. "We'll find someone much better than you."
A small boy in a striped dressing gown and teddy bear slippers, his wet hair brushed flat, appeared in the doorway. "Nadia ate a worm," he announced.
"I didn't!" the small boy was followed by a slightly taller girl, who was also dresses in a dressing gown, but with bare feet. "I just said that so Tom would tell mummy." She gave Vaughn a cheerful look. "Then he didn't tell her anyway!"
Vaughn didn't know what to do. He had never been approached so directly by the children before. In fact, it was so long since he'd been to Wiess's house that he'd almost forgotten them. "Really?" he said.
"Syd says there's a dancer in the kitchen!" the little girl looked around the kitchen in puzzlement. "Where is she?" her disappointed face turned to Wiess. "Did you see her? Did she have a pretty dress?"
"Yep." Wiess gave Vaughn a wicked look above the children's heads. "And a tiara and a magic wand too."
The little girl clapped her hands in excitement. "Oh!" she jumped up and down, her bare feet slapping the tiled floor. "Tom she had a magic wand!"
Vaughn felt embarrassed. It was unfair of Wiess to tease her, but he didn't know how to stop him.
"Have fun," wiess said, throwing his half-eaten apple into the bin with more force than necessary. He gave Vaughn an unreadable look and slouched out of the room.
"Nadia! Tom! Are you being a nuisance?"
Jean bustled into the kitchen, her arms full of dirty clothes and wet towels. "Hello, Michael, we haven't seen you for ages!" she said cheerfully. "I don't know why Sydney let the kids come down, some stupid nonsense about a dancer…" she stopped smiling at Vaughn and gave Nadia a stern look. "Nadia Bristow, where are your uggies?"
Poor Nadia was almost in tears. "Sydney said there's a dancer here, and Erick saw her and said that she had a pretty dress." She looked up at Vaughn with uncertainty. "Didn't he?"
Vaughn had picked up his bag, ready to escape as soon as Syd showed up. But the little girl's crest fallen expression softened his heart and lowered his bag again. "I think he might have tricked you," he said, crouching down to her level. "But perhaps Syd's right and there is a dancer down here. You never know."
Jean stopped piling clothes into the washing basket. She tossed her shiny hair, looking at Vaughn with a light heartened scorn. "Are you drunk? Or have you been indulging in some other recreational substance?"
"No, of course not." He tried to sound lighthearted too, though he was offended. Jean was doing what she did every time he saw her, tried to be motherly but trying not to impose to much.
"Why are you winding Nadia up then?" she asked him, stuffing the dirty clothes into the basket. "You teenagers! You think you're so adult, but you behave more like babies than babies do!"
Sydney came in and heard the last bit of this. She looked warily from Vaughn to her stepmother and back again. "What's going on?"
"You said there was a dancer!" said Nadia accusingly.
"Where de dancer?" asked Tom at the same time.
"There!" said Sydney, pointing at Vaughn.
Jean straightened up and put a hand over her mouth, gasping with theatrical laughter.
Sydney ignored her. "One day, he's going to dance in New York, on the stage in a real theater," she continued, addressing the children. "Would you like to go and see him?"
Nadia nodded solemnly. She went to Sydney's side, her thumb in her mouth, gazing at Vaughn widening eyes. Then she took her thumb out of her mouth and asked, "Will he have a tiara and a magic wand, like Erick said?"
Jean's laughter burst out. She came up to Vaughn and punched his arm. "You dark horse, you!"
Vaughn took the attention as graciously as he could. "I never knew Sydney did ballet or I'd have told you before. I mean it's not a secret or anything."
Jean gave Sydney a meaningful look. Sydney didn't return it. "Bedtime, you two," she said, taking Tom's hand. "Say goodnight to Michael."
"Goodnight Michael," chanted the children obediently.
Vaughn couldn't help but be charmed. He glanced at jean, who had gone to the sink and started to fill the kettle. "Err… see you later Mrs. Bristow."
"Oh, call me Jean silly. Don't you want a cup of coffee?"
"No he doesn't," said Sydney over her shoulder from the hall.
"Suit yourself." Jean slammed the lid of the kettle on. "And tell Erick to come in and clean up whatever he spilt on the floor. Is it milk?"
Tom suddenly let out a shriek. "Look!"
Sydney and Vaughn froze. "What is it?" asked Sydney.
"Fish feet!" exclaimed the little boy, pointing at Vaughn's trainers.
Vaughn was bewildered. He looked down at his shoes. Fish feet?
"Oh, I see!" Sydney touched his arm and he looked up. She was smiling. "Tom says I walk like a fish walking on its tail fins. You walk like that too I suppose."
Of course, the dancers turned out walk. Vaughn had heard it compared to a penguin, and a hat stand, and Charlie Chaplin. But never a fish.
Tom disappeared shyly behind Sydney. "Fish feet," he repeated.
"He'll call you that for ever now," she warned. She was still smiling and her face was pink, from exertion and bath time. "Oh! Miss Perry's address."
Vaughn expected her to go and look for a piece of paper, but she didn't. "It's 52 Church Grove. The house with the red door. You just ring and go in."
Vaughn felt funny. Sort of nervous, but sort of important. He walked to the gate, watched by Sydney and the children.
"Sorry about Tom," said Sydney. "He's only five."
"I don't mind," he told her. He waved, and the children waved back. "It's the first time anyone's called me a nickname which isn't an insult."
A/NUm… hi, well I just thought that I should include some Australian/American translations for all you Americans that just read this chapter and didn't understand some of the words I used. So um… here it is
Fringe – Bangs (front of hair hanging over the forehead)
Mum - Mom
(I know you use this in America but…) Soccer – English Football
uggies – soft slipper like boot, usually lined with sheep wool
(um… and a ballet word you might not know) reverence – thanking the teacher or pianist at the end of a ballet class
well I think that is all I need to tell you, I just hope you R&R (it keeps me going after a long day of boring lessons). Oh… and just so you know, the italic text in this chapter was just wiess putting on a funny English accent and making fun of Vaughn, but you all know that anyway, because you all are so smart!
I don't want to stop now because I only have 40 words to write until I reach 3,000 words so I think you should listen to the Elektra soundtrack because I love it and you will too.