Chapter Ten – I Scream, You Scream
"OK class," Mrs. Flora Linley said loudly above the noise of her History of Dance class. A delicious bunch of reprobates with a few dedicated scholars, she dreaded having to cover first period on a Monday. The funny thing about dance students was that although a lot of them were fantastic performers, they certainly had no stamina when it came to real learning. And when it came to choosing your electives, History of Dance was usually considered a class in which to goof around. Sadly for those select few, there had been a clamp down recently, and the curriculum had been changed – so those who hadn't intended to learn found themselves being forced to. But of course there were ten or so students who worked hard and had actually picked the subject through choice, and so Mrs. Linley tried to teach the class for them.
Though on a couple of occasions she had considered suicide.
"Sit down Mr. Reynolds," she said to a boy who was leaning against the wall at the back of the class. Her eyes scanned the room for others doing things they shouldn't – surprisingly no one had their cassette players out this week, and it didn't look like anyone was chewing gum. Alexandra Hale's seat was empty which was unusual; the girl wasn't often absent, if ever, but there had been a bug going round and so Flora wondered if the girl had fallen ill. After all, no one was invincible. There was no sense in fretting about the well behaved students, however, when there were several ill mannered ones, scaling the walls under her nose.
"Mr. Jenkins, if you don't turn around and stop bothering Miss Munroe, I will have to send you to Director Franklin's office and I doubt Jane wants you breathing all over her." The boy, who had shocking blonde hair, sighed and sat down in his seat, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his sweat pants.
Blake turned his head discreetly from where he sat – the front row, but the furthest from the door – to see what the rest of class were doing. Jane, who he had a little contact with because of Alex, was looking deeply harassed and tossed her red hair back with a disgusted face. She'd only been back five minutes and already she was being pestered. Jenkins and Reynolds were amongst some of the worst behaved pupils in the class, and the school, but all they boiled down to were snivelling attention seeking juvenile delinquents with an average talent for dance. It annoyed him how Mrs. Linley seemed incapable of controlling them, letting them get away with murder. As soon as they heard Mrs. Trent wasn't in, and Linley was covering, they started wreaking merry havoc.
The seating system was alphabetical in History of Dance, so he was fortunate enough to not be sat amongst them all. As it happened, it had worked out that Alex was two rows across at the front also, right in front of Mrs. Linley's desk, and Jane was four seats back from her friend. Alex had the misfortune of David Reynolds on her right; a persistent moron with a crew cut who enjoyed flirting with her. It was completely one sided of course, but it was still disturbing to watch. His best friend, Kevin Jenkins, was infatuated with Jane. He had heard them refer to themselves as 'The Hunters' on more than one occasion, which was nothing short of ironic as the only thing they could catch was a cold. The entire female populace regarded them as wastes of space, and Blake had to admit, they were not wrong. But it was something else that caught his eye.
Alex's seat was empty.
He immediately felt his brow furrow. Where was she? They were meant to be rehearsing tonight. Perhaps she was unwell, he thought, with a twinge of concern. But that didn't sit right; Alex had excellent attendance, and what seemed like a cast iron constitution. Blake turned to catch Jane's eye and she seemed to understand his meaning, shrugging and raising her arms as if to say "I have no idea". He folded his arms and nestled in his chair; after all her fuss about him not bothering to let her know he wouldn't be able to make it, she had better of tried to contact him.
He didn't know what had happened since Chase's birthday, but there had been a shift within the way she treated him; conversations between them had been open and jokey, she teased him less and less and when she did, it wasn't with that snide undertone that made him think perhaps she wasn't joking after all. She seemed to have completely relaxed in his presence, and become more familiar. Like a...friend. It was still horribly awkward at times, but he looked forward to rehearsals, and Wednesdays, where they would talk at length about anything and everything – usually dance.
"Settle down," Mrs. Linley said in a last ditch attempt to grab them, dishing out text books and pushing her round glasses up her nose. Blake shook his head; she was looking closer to a nervous breakdown each weak – a complete shivering wreck at times, her flyaway hair was greying quickly, her clothes were baggy, and her voice sounded as if it was going to break most lessons.
"Right, turn to page 239," she said with a happy smile – surprisingly everyone seemed fairly subdued. Must have been a bad weekend, Blake thought. They usually spent this hour on a Monday talking about the weekend's cavorts.
"Ok, Kendra, if you wouldn't mind reading the first paragraph at the top of the page," the teacher asked addressing a Latino girl with braided hair, and neon hoops in her ears. The girl nodded, and sat forward in her chair lazily.
"The Foxtrot originated in the summer of 1914 by Vaudeville actor Harry Fox. Born Arthur Carringford in Pomona, California, in 1882, he adopted the stage name of "Fox" after his grandfather. The -"
The door to the classroom opened in a quick movement, and a room full of eyes turned to watch as Alex hurried through the door, shutting it swiftly and headed to her seat. As she sat down, her knitted wrap fell open and she dropped her bag to the floor, bending forward to retrieve her notepad and pen quickly without making a lot of noise and sat back, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Mrs. Linley slowly handed her a text book.
"Sorry I'm late," Alex said simply, taking it with a smile that, even from where he sat, Blake realised didn't meet her eyes.
"Page 239," Mrs. Linley said, dumbstruck. Alex Hale was never late to class.
She wasn't the only one who was completely shocked at her entrance. Jane had leant out of her seat and was looking at her with an expression of concern. Both Reynolds and Jenkins had their mouths open, Blake noticed. And he himself couldn't stop staring at her. She looked to her left and caught his eye, and frowned at him, so he looked back to his text book and focused on the picture of Harry Fox.
"If you would continue, Kendra," the teacher said finally.
"The Foxtrot was the most significant development in all of ballroom dancing…"
The class seemed to drag as they continued to read from the textbook for half an hour until their teacher set them some written work – to simply answer the questions on the following page, and finish them for homework. Blake rolled his eyes as he turned over; History of Dance was known for its chronic amount of homework; there were over twenty questions there. Not everyone set straight to work – what could they do in fifteen minutes? – but most people had pen to paper in a quiet murmur. Mrs. Linley had sat down at her desk and was marking; seemingly thankful her duty was over.
"Hey, Hale," David Reynolds hissed at Alex, so loudly it caught Blake's attention. "Why don't you come out with me this Saturday?"
"Because I have better things to do with my time than study the integration of pond life into society," Alex answered, not raising her eyes from the page she was writing on, and sounding very blank. Reynolds paused, chewing over what she said.
"Aw, why not? It could be fun," he said smoothly, ignoring her insult, or more likely just not getting it. "You, me, my Subaru…"
"I'd rather stick my face in a blender than sit inside a Subaru with you, but thanks for thinking of me."
"When are you gonna give it up Hale?" David Reynolds said, leaning out of his seat, tapping his Biro against his knee. "The sexual chemistry between is undeniable."
Alex paused and looked up. "I beg to differ. The feeling of vomit rising to the back of my throat when I see you, now that's undeniable."
"Quit with the jibes - I've seen the way you look at me…it's the look," he whispered. "The look that you want me."
"Quiet please," Mrs. Linley said in an irritated tone. "I don't mind you talking quietly but it's escalating a little."
"Sorry Miss," David crooned. "I was trying to convince Alex to go out with me, but she insists on playing hard to get." He chuckled and winked at Kevin who turned in his chair to look at Jane – who was sensibly keeping her eyes to the page.
"Or maybe she's just not interested in you?" Blake said in a clear voice with a small laugh, not looking at the boy. The noise in the room deadened very quickly as everybody looked to where the retort had come from.
"Huh?" Reynolds said intelligently, as puzzled as everyone else was.
Blake paused and looked across at the boy, feeling everyone's eyes bore into him as he did so, including Alex's. "I don't think she's interested in you. Otherwise...wouldn't she have gone out with you by now? Or at least stopped chucking insults at you every time you asked?"
Reynolds tried to brush it off by laughing. "Yeah, well. Love is a flower that's sometimes slow to bloom you know?"
Blake laughed to himself and shut his textbook. "Right. Ok."
Reynolds' smile dropped at the sound of Blake's disbelieving laugh and smirk, and narrowed his eyes at him and scoffed. "Sorry Collins, didn't realise it was any of your business," he said, and Kevin laughed. Blake had no doubt that had they been sat near each other, they would have high fived.
"It's not," Blake shrugged.
"Then shut up."
"It's not me that's embarrassing myself by being desperate," Blake pointed out.
Reynolds stopped laughing and put his tongue in his cheek. "Hey, Kevin. I think I get why Collins had his panties in a twist about it. I'd forgotten - I'm trespassing on his territory." There was a low murmur in the class; Blake Collins, as son of the founders, was virtually untouchable. People may not like him, but no one would be stupid enough to pick a fight with the kid. Not when he could just offhandedly mention their name to his parents and have them removed. Well, no one except 'The Hunters' perhaps.
Blake rolled his eyes. "Don't be an idiot."
"What did you call me?" Reynolds asked, gritting his teeth and clenching his fist. He rose in his seat a little, and Mrs. Linley – seemingly forgotten – flinched slightly in fear of a fight. Blake didn't move.
"You heard me," he replied, wondering where his sudden boldness had come from. He'd had enough, quite frankly, of them both.
"Yeah, I thought I did. But I was giving you the chance to take it back, King Collins," Reynolds spat. The class seemed to make an 'ooo' sound, unsure whether to laugh or keep quiet.
Blake gripped his pen tightly in his hand and spun in his chair. The royalty joke had done it – he'd snapped. "Listen Reynolds, maybe you'd find you had better luck with women if you didn't treat them like pieces of meat. I'm no expert, but maybe, perhaps, if you actually tried to have a conversation with them that didn't involve you trying to 'give it to them' in the back of your clapped out, sorry excuse for a vehicle, then you might have better luck. I mean," he smirked, "it's not as if you're getting anywhere with Alex, are you?"
Reynolds shook with rage. "How the hell would you know?"
"I just don't think Alex is into men that resemble, in looks and behaviour, whatever climbed out of the primordial ooze thousands of years ago..."
"Excuse me!" Alex said loudly over the both of them, slamming her textbook shut to get their attention. They grew silent and Reynolds sat down abruptly in his seat. "Reynolds, firstly, I am nobody's territory. And this is not a turf war! Secondly – get the hint. I hate you, I hate your Subaru. You and your friends are the most pathetic excuses for human beings I've seen in a long time. It's just not going to happen in any capacity, do you understand?" The boy blinked hard at her and she gave a little cry of exasperation. "I'll spell it out – we could be the last two people on the entire planet and the answer would still be N-O." She spat the letters at him, making him flinch with each syllable.
When she turned to look at Blake with an indignant look of vitriol, he swallowed hard. "And you – I can fight my own battles thank you very much. Don't talk about me as if I'm not here and don't presume to know what I'm 'into'. You don't have any right to." She made a low sound of frustration at the back of her throat. "Men! You're unbelievable!"
And with that she returned to her page, leaving a stunned audience around her as the anger rolled off of her in waves. Mrs. Linley stared at them all with wide eyes unsure as to how to proceed, and luckily for her, the bell went seconds later.
"Right! Homework, for Thursday please," she jabbered, and no one left the classroom as quickly as she did.
Jane moved to Alex's side as the girl began shoving her things back in her bag, and waited patiently. Blake moved slower than he might have usually but he was hoping to talk to her. Reynolds and Jenkins had long gone, feeling a little put out they'd be shown up by a woman in front of everyone. As he walked past, he caught her eye, and seeing real irritation there, decided not to falter but she stopped him.
"What was that all about?" she asked, frowning.
"I was just trying to help."
"Well, I can handle it myself in future, thank you," she said in a low voice, crossing her arms.
Blake scowled. "Yes, you were doing a fantastic job," he said sarcastically, hissing a little. "You really succeeded in driving him away."
"You're such an ass," she shot at him.
"Well, I won't bother next time."
"Don't."
"Fine." He paused. "Is there any point having a rehearsal tonight, if you're going to be in a foul mood? Or are you going to be late?"
"Ha! That depends on whether you decide to not show up at all," Alex bit back.
"Don't be petty," he said coldly. Alex narrowed her eyes.
"Don't give it out if you can't take it back," she said simply, picking up her bag aggressively and heading out of the door with Jane, wide eyed, in tow.
XXXXX
The door to the studio pushed open later that day rather slowly, and Blake turned from where he stood waiting and stretching to see Alex standing there, with a sheepish expression and her bag hanging from her shoulder. He stood up straight and crossed his arms.
"You're late," he said simply, eyeing the clock and strolling over to where he had stood his water bottle. He thought it best to pretend this morning never happened; he'd heard reports of her being foul tempered throughout the day before disappearing at lunch. Jane had stopped by his locker, seemingly at a loss as to what was wrong with her. He'd decided then, even though it might be a long shot, to go to rehearsal anyway. If she came, he could at least try and find out why she was acting so strangely.
"Yeah, I know," she said taking a deep breath and speaking quite clearly. "Look, about this morning – I'm really sorry." She paused, seemingly waiting for a reaction in his face but he didn't move. "I shouldn't have spoken to you the way I did, although I think I was justified, I was in a terrible mood," she said, smiling weakly, "And I took it out on you."
Blake didn't speak, but instead he nodded, looking at his feet.
"And, while we're clearing the air," she groaned, closing her eyes and putting her hand over her face. "I am very sorry I called you a self righteous, jumped up, chauvinistic pig headed buffoon."
Blake's eyes shot up and met hers with a frown. "You didn't call me that," he said, laughing quietly.
Alex pulled her sheepish expression again and raised her hand to fiddle with her messy bun. "Er…yeah…I did. You just didn't hear me."
"Ah," he said, frowning slightly but unable to stop the corners of his mouth twitching upwards into a half smirk.
"Yeah," Alex said slightly with her cheeks flushing. "Like I said, I've been having a bad day."
Blake looked at his feet and nodded. "I guess I can sympathise with that."
Alex pointed a finger at him. "And it's not as if you've never taken anything out on me."
Blake seemed to falter as he thought about it. "No, I suppose that is true enough."
There was an awkward paused in the studio as they were unsure how to proceed before Alex let out a nervous laugh and a weak smile, and Blake found it was difficult to stay mad at someone who seemed genuinely repentant. Besides, she still looked tired, and wore the same rushed and confused look she had all day; her top hung off one shoulder and the sleeves were long and pulled over her palms. She hadn't changed out of her khaki Capri's, and although he could see her leotard underneath, she wasn't ready to dance. She looked weary and a little lost, and for no apparent reason it distressed him deeply. Biting the bullet, he crossed his arms.
"Are you ok?" he asked.
Alex shrugged and dropped her duffel bag on the floor. She unzipped it and pulled out her Bloch's, playing with the ribbons a little in her hands. "Not really but hey, life goes on."
"Well," he said, awkwardly. "Did you…want to talk about it?" He'd planned confronting her in his head, but he didn't quite know how it would actually turn out.
Alex stared at him. "With you?"
"Well, there's no need to sound like that. I'm not the monster everyone makes me out to be," Blake said curtly. Alex smiled.
"I know that, I just didn't think you'd really be up for a heart to heart or being anyone's 'shoulder to cry on'."
Blake shifted uncomfortably, regretting his offer. "You're going to cry?"
"It was a metaphor," Alex said blankly, gesturing for him to turn around, or close his eyes as she pulled off her clothes and slipped on her shoes – it was a hot day so she did without the tights. "Ok, I'm done. Let's get started." Blake didn't move as she stepped closer to him. She narrowed her eyes and stared at him.
"Aren't we going to dance?" she asked looking at the stereo, which Blake insisted on having control to. She'd given up trying to fight him for it, and instead come to a quiet resignation that it was just something he liked to do.
He looked down at her. "Well besides the fact you haven't stretched, I'm not convinced you're ok yet."
"Blake," Alex sighed, sounding a little annoyed. "Why is it bothering you so much? Can't we just get on with it?"
He paused, pondering her question. "I don't know why, but I like stability and for the first time in all the time I've know you, you've turned up late to a lesson, you verbally attacked me in a class full of people, and quite frankly – not meaning any offence – you look absolutely wiped."
"Verbally attacked?" she repeated, mustering a smile.
"A lesser man might have cried," he said wryly.
Alex paused, exhaling through her nose and then, after a while, rubbed her forehead. He looked at her feet – she was standing in third position sub consciously – and waited.
"I am wiped actually," she started. "I've not been feeling very well and today I woke up late. Me. I overslept for goodness sake," she laughed. "And then I got in this stupid fight with my Dad, over nothing," she said with her eyes closed. "Anyway," she said finally blinking and bringing her hands to her hips with a smile. "It's just been one of those days."
"And what made you think," Blake said, ignoring her last sentence and frowning as she moved to start dancing, "That you had to carry on pushing yourself when you weren't feeling well?"
She paused, weighing up her response. "Well, I didn't want to let anyone down."
Blake raised an eyebrow and looked intently at her. "Anyone? Or me?"
Alex didn't respond at first – he'd hit the nail on the head, but didn't know how honest she wanted to be at that stage. "Well…not just you," she said dismissively, waving a hand. Blake smirked.
"Right."
"You can wipe that stupid smirk off your face," Alex said sternly. "Fine – I thought that if I told you I wanted to rest, you'd be annoyed or judge me for being...'weak'."
She shrunk under his heavy gaze, which seemed to be scrutinising her to her very core. "What makes you think, more to the point, that I'm the kind of person that would put dance or being a good performer above someone's health and well being?" Blake asked with a deeper frown.
"I don't..."
"If you were unwell, or wanted a break, why didn't you say?" he continued over the top of her. "Is that how I come across? As some kind of tyrannical dictator?" She shook her head. "Because that's how you've painted me." He sounded almost hurt as he stood before her, asking questions she felt unable to answer.
"I...I guess, it's more me than you," she said, looking at the floor. "I needed to...I don't know...prove myself, and I was pushing to keep up. I've never had a partner before, and...to be quite frank Blake, you're much better than me." Alex met his eyes as she said it, and he could see she genuinely believed what she was saying.
"You're not being serious right?" Blake said, scoffing.
"About which part?" she asked, suddenly very confused.
"All of it! You don't have to prove yourself – it was you yourself that pointed out to me that I wouldn't have asked you to be my partner unless I was convinced of your talent. And as for trying to keep up..." he laughed to himself, a little cruelly. "I'd given you more credit than that."
Alex crossed her arms. "Oh, really?"
"Yes. You should be secure in your ability – you're good. You don't need to try and keep up with me. Hell, you wouldn't even have to partner with anyone if you didn't want to," he said, quite simply but enjoyed watching her colour a little under his praise.
"Thank you," she replied, a little unsure how to reply.
"Now then," he said firmly, turning her by her shoulders so she faced the door and ushering her to her bag. Alex began to object but his strong grip forced her to where their bags lay and only then did he let go, flexing his fingers a little. "You're going to get dressed, and meet me at my car. You need a break and I'm taking you for ice cream."
"Ice cream..." Alex repeated slowly. Her partner nodded, a little impatiently as if urging for her to keep up. She should be used to his bossing her around and yet she looked as if it was the first time a command had ever escaped his lips.
"Yes, ice cream. I know this little parlour – I've been there a couple of times. Just...don't tell my mother," he said, looking quite serious, fiddling with the car keys in his hand, but then surprising her once again with a smile.
Alex nodded dumbly and seconds later he'd left the room. This had to be the most surreal twenty minutes of her life – Blake Collins had not only let her off rehearsing but he was taking her out to have a good time, and to cheer her up no less. Pulling off her ballet shoes hurriedly, and pulling on her trousers, she wondered what on earth had gotten in to him. He seemed to constantly surprise her at every turn, so much so that the figure she'd acclimatised herself to had all but disappeared, leaving this strange, yet fantastic apparition of a guy who actually had feelings, and seemed to be concerned about hers.
She didn't know quite what to expect from him anymore.
Stepping out of the studio and making her way to his car, Alex felt almost nervous. This wasn't study, this wasn't dancing - this was two people using their spare time to benefit one another. Wasn't that a friendship?
Was Blake Collins her friend?
Who'd have thought it?
Alex stepped out of the school with the afternoon sun, still hot, hitting her smartly in the face. Blake was waiting patiently by his car – having already put his bags in the boot, he waited for her to walk over so she could do the same. Smiling and strolling over, she felt like a weight had been lifted, if it was only for a few hours. Pulling some sunglasses from her bag and donning them, Blake cast a sideways glance at her.
"Are you ready? Or would you rather go home?" he asked. "I can take you back if you want." He didn't seem concerned either way, but Alex was. She pondered it and crossed her arms. This was the crossroad. Shaking her head, she got in the car.