Chapter 2
The letter came on a thursday. It seemed fitting that, her least favourite day of the week, would be the day that would change her life forever. To ruin it.
Ms Arendelle,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been successful in your audition for the Amercian Ballet Academy. Congratulations on your achievement, we look forward to seeing in you in the fall!
Sincerely,
Deputy Headmistress,
Anabelle Van Der Built.
Anna's chin rested on her shoulder, and her eyes were alight with excitement.
"Elsa! You did it! You're in! Oh, Elsa, I knew you could do it! I just knew it!" Elsa smiled, but her eyes did not follow her mouth, and the smile was a sad one. Despite her bravery, a very tiny part of her had hoped that perhaps she had made a mistake in the solo, or that her lines were undefined, or perhaps her leaps weren't quite high enough.
Of course, none of that mattered.
Her parents were king and queen, and the deputy was a loyal servant. Elsa suspected that even if she had stood still, in the centre of the room for the entire audition, she would have made it in the the school with a stellar recommendation from the board. But that was that.
That was that.
"What are you going to have Elsa?" Anna was giggling wildy, pointing and flexing her feet under the table, and holding hands tightly with her big sister. "I think I'm going to order pizza!" The whole family was out to dinner to celebrate Elsa's success.
"I think I'll have pizza, too, Anna." Her mother frowned.
"Oh, no Elsa. You are student at ABA now, you'd be much better off with a salad." Sighing, she passed her menu over to her mother, telling her to go ahead and order what ever she thought fit for her daughter.
Elsa slept fitfully that night. Her legs ached and her feet itched. But she was too worried to sleep. She couldn't stop thinking about Anna, about herself. How was Anna going to cope with the pressures of her parents once she was away at school? How was she going to cope with the pressures of her parents once she was away at school?
Anna's sing-song voice haunted her in the darkness.
"Your such a great dancer, Elsa."
"I wish I could be more like you, Elsa."
"I can't wait to go on pointe, Elsa!"
Images replayed again and again, past and present.
Anna, alone in the studio, feet bloody, arms poised. Rehearsing the same steps over and over, again and again, desperate to please their parents.
Her mother, strict and scolding, telling her that she wasn't good enough, that she would never be good enough.
The two of them, alone forever, together but lonely, matching red shoes, turning and turning again and again.
She woke gasping, anxiety coating her body like sweat. Without further thought, she slid from her bed, and grabbed the pointe shoes hanging off her door knob.
She didn't bother to glance at Anna's bed. If she had, she would have seen it was empty.
By the time she got to her parents studio, her heart beat had slowed, but tears had come. Dancing, despite being the source of all her problems, would make it better. Because, despite everything, she did love to dance, to lose herself in her problems, to immerse herself in some one else's emotions. It wasn't ballet she hated, it was the system.
Not looking where she was going, not even thinking, she walked into what she thought was an empty studio.
Only it wasn't.
There was Anna, poised at the barre, perfect arms, meaning full lines. Right down to her feet. Which were dressed in a pair of Elsa's old pointe shoes.
"Anna, be careful," Elsa cried, not thinking.
It was then that her world shattered.
Stunned by Elsa's appearance, Anna spun around quickly, not thinking about her feet, tripping over the too big shoes. A sickening crack reverberated in the air, and Anna's mouth pushed it self open. Her face gave it away.
"Anna," Elsa was rooted to the spot. "Anna, please," But Anna wasn't listening. She just kept falling. Arms wild, she fell backward, skull smacking against the wooden bar.
Elsa's feet started moving before she could even comprehend what was really happening. Scooping her younger sister up in her arms, she started to sob, feeling the sticky blood on the back of her head.
"Mama, Mama! Papa, please, it's Anna!" She could barely get the words out, her lungs struggling to swallow the air they needed.
Anna, Anna, Anna, Anna.
Her parents came, quickly, although the time went slowly, every second seared into her memory.
"Anna!" Her mothers voice was sharp, a point of clarity in Elsa's haze of blood and tears. Her father was on the phone, calling an ambluance, and in a single second Anna was lifted from her arms and into her mothers, pushed into a corner, alone with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company.
It was hours before she heard anything. Luckily, none of the damage was permanent. A cracked skull. Concussion. Ankle broken in three places. Sprained toes.
She blamed herself, and of course, one phone call to her mother confirmed that she thought exactly the same thing.
Alone and forgotten, she backed herself into her room, into a corner, into the cupboard. The tears came quickly, and she wondered if she could Anna would ever forgive her, if she could ever forgive herself. It wasn't for days, weeks, months, until she realised that maybe she didn't want to.
