Chapter 2:
I take another sip of my venti Starbucks latte. It's 10:23 in the morning and Zoe and I getting ready for class after lunchtime. "I hope that Peter will notice me." She says, digging through the messy mass of tights and leotards. She pulls out a pair of shell pink tights and examines them.
"He's not teaching class today, anyway." I say, and then set my latte down on the shiny wood floor. "Mr. Edmunds is." I say with a groan.
Zoe hurls the tights on the floor and pulls out another pair; these are a light grayish-pink. She wrinkles her nose at them and then sets them down next to her. She starts looking for a leotard. "I just want to have a solo role." Zoe tucks a thin loose piece of blonde hair behind her ear and then pulls out a plain black spaghetti strapped leo.
I sigh. "Every corps dancer wants to be promoted, Zoe." I roll up the bottoms of my gray Nike Hyperwarm pants and pull my tights down so they can cover my feet.
"I know," She says, her eyes tired. Quickly, she yanks her track pants and NYB t'shirt off and slips into the tights and leotard.
"Yeah," I murmer; half to Zoe and half to myself. I take another sip of my latte. Then, the door to our dressing room bursts open. It's Daisy and Bea. They are wearing sweatshirts and jeans; thier hair already up in buns.
"Good morning, everyone." Daisy trills as she slings her Danskin duffle and The Limited tote over her dressing table chair. Bea follows her inside, and then closes the door.
Bea steps around Zoe's mess of clothes and grins at us. "Hey." She sets her theater case and duffle bag on the floor and walks over to the kitchen on her side of the room. Bea gets a strawberry protien bar down from the mini pantry and rips it open. A burst of sweet berries fills the room.
"Good grief, Bea." Zoe snaps. "Can you eat something more headache leading? That strawberry smell is so fake." Zoe rubs her forehead and then takes a large gulp of her latte.
Bea rolls the wrapper down and takes a huge bite. "They taste good, and I lose weigth by eating them. So," She waves the bar in Zoe's face, which makes Zoe gag. "No. I will not eat something else."
The microwave beeps. We all jump in surprise and stare at the kitchen on Bea's side. Daisy is pulling something out of it, and suddenly another scent fills the usually vanilla scented air. "What the heck is that?" I yelp, as Daisy rips off the clear plastic wrapping on the mysterious black dish.
Daisy takes her time selecting a fork from the silverware drawer. She picks one up, examines it, and then shuts the drawer with her bony hip. Without a word, she walks over to the middle of the floor and sits down near the rest of us. "FYI," She makes herself comfortable. "This is a new diet meal plan my doctor put me on." Daisy pulls out several plastic packets foggy with steam out of the tray. "And today, I happen to be eating Sundried Tomato Pesto Pasta for my lunch."
Zoe wrinkles her nose. "Ew. That sounds like something they would feed a dog." She gets up from the floor and sits in her dressing table chair.
Daisy bites all of the little packets. We all watch as she squeezes each one, letting the mysterious "sauces" ooze out. The first one looks like pesto, the second is a thin lumpy red sauce, third some garlic oil, and fourth some cheeze sauce. She stirs the watery gluten free noodles with her fork and then takes a bite of her pasta. "Ooh..." She smiles. "Tastes good." She gobbles more bites. I turn away, disgusted.
"Have you guys eaten lunch yet?" Bea asks, finishing her strawberry protien bar. She chucks the wrapper into the trashcan.
Zoe digs her iPad out of her Kooba tote. "Yeah. We had California rolls like, twenty minutes ago." She opens up Angry Birds Seasons and starts playing.
"Mmmmm," Bea sniffs approvingly. She takes another protien bar, panini sandwich, yucca chips, and a Diet Coke out of her Lily Pulitzer purse. She digs into her panini pressed sandwich. "That sounds yum." Bea sets her sandwich down and unwraps another protien bar, this one raspberry. Zoe grits her teeth and then turns away from the protien bar. Even i turn away, for the sweet berry smell is hurting my head. So I open up my pointe shoe bag and pull out the pair I broke in yesterday during class. I'll wear them for the performances tonight. I still have to fix them up, though.
I rip out the packet of matches and extract a match. Lighting the match, I quickly burn the rims of the toe of my pointe shoes. The smell of smoke fills the air, getting rid of Bea's berry scented crap. "Oh wow, Massie." Bea says, staring open mouthed at my shoes. "You ripped the bottoms already?" She fingers a lock of red hair and then twists it up into her bun. "You only wore them for company class yesterday."
Zoe gets up from her perch on her dressing table. "Geesh, Bea. It doesn't take that long to rip the toes. Don't you rip them in company class?" Zoe shows Bea her own feet, which are clad in ripped and dirty pointe shoes.
"No" Daisy answers for Bea. She steals one of Bea's protien bars, takes a big bite of a raspberry protein bar, and then scoots over to me. "Can I look?" She asks, her hair in my match's panoramic fire zone and her berry breath on my cheeks.
I shove her playfully out. "Stop!" She giggles. "You are going to set your hair on fire." Daisy pantomimes stop, drop, and roll.
Bea laughs out loud. "This girl is on fire." She says; pulling on a gray knit top.
Zoe's eyes widen. She's always looking for an opportunity to break out in song. "Thisss- girlll- is -on fiiiirrrreeeee," She sings loudly, her voice booming in the dressing room.
Everyone stares at her. "Ohmygosh." Daisy squeals. "You sing so…..good!"
Zoe motions for me to go get the Yamaha keyboard that the two of us brought so we could mess around. I toss my pointe shoes across the room and blow out my matches. They are tossed in the stainless steel trashcan. I pick it up and sit down next to her. Zoe clears her throat and then starts singing; her voice blending between a sweet soprano and a hint of rasp while I play the FULL piano part. "Girl on Fire" by Alicia Keys echoes out of our room. "She's just a girl, and she's on fi-rrrr-eeee." Zoe sings, her voice matching my perfect piano notes. I arpeggio across the keys and hold down seven note chords with my left hand while my right swirls out the melody.
When we're done, everyone is quiet. Bea is the first to speak. "You sing better than Alicia Keys." She says. "Not joking,"
They both nod. "Totally," Daisy pouts in her spot on the floor.
Adrianna comes out of the bathroom and slams the door shut. Her wet black hair sticks to her face and her lips are pursed in a narrow smile. "That was amazing, Zoe; Massie!" She sets her damp towel on the back of her chair. "So good." She opens up the fridge and pulls out a container of fruit salad and starts munching.
I play the first few measures of Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu while Zoe turns on the Bose speakers. A light jazz music flitters through. "Thanks guys," She says, and then gets back up to her dressing table. I put up the keyboard. We all go back to what we were doing. Daisy throws away the rest of her pasta and starts to doctor a pair of her pointe shoes. Adrianna pulls Moby Dick out of her LeSportsSac duffle and starts to read through the sticky noted and highlighted pages. Bea simply sips her Diet Coke and flips through Daisy's People magazine. Zoe starts to organize her lipsticks and lip glosses. I pull my iPhone out and check my email, and then I decide to finish fixing my pointe shoes.
The room is now quiet; every now and then a bit of jazz crescendos into our ears. This is a life of a ballerina. Only fifty percent thrill; the other half is work, effort, and boredom.
"Massie? You're on in five." Amanda pokes her head into the Green Room.
I take a sip of water and nod my head. "I got it, don't worry." She hobbles off.
The air is thick; sweaty; makeup filled. I leave my position near the door and hurry over to wear I am supposed to get my costume. Girls are yelling at flustered costume makers, trying to explain that something is not right. Unfortunately, since most of the costume makers are being taken up by the stupid apprentice dancers, I am stuck with attempting to find the costume myself in a giant pile of glitter and tulle. I dig through the mess, my hands rubbing against crystals and soft satin.
Suddenly, someone taps my shoulder. "Massie. Here," It's Anna, one of the costume drapers. Her voice is exasperated; tired. She shoves me my costume for Apollo and then runs off. It's a sheer white Grecian style dress that's formfitting but slightly loose. I slip it on over my pointe shoes and clean white tights (I have to wear white, not pink in this ballet) and then escape the mess of the Green Room. Once i am backstage, the quietness engulfs me. It's dark and calm, unlike the room i just left. The orchestra warms-up in front of the stage. I can hear every string being vibrated, crescendos, and trills. I was meant for Fine Arts. Quickly, I hurry over to the left wing.
Sam, the main soloist in Apollo, is waiting with Lottie in the wings. THey are practicing the pat de deux in the andante section. I watch as Sam lifts Lottie high above his head and then Lottie extends her back leg into a full 120 degree etude. Sam pique turns her down and then they seperate. I clap silently, letting them know i was watcching them. "Amazing." I whisper.
Lottie wipes sweat off her forehead. "Thanks, Mass." She dabs her pointe shoes in a little more rosin and then does a few eleves to work into the shoes. Footsteps hurry behind me. It's Zoe.
"Sorry I'm late." She pants. "I couldn't get my costume out. It was like a mosh pit in there." we all laugh. Then, the music swells and the audience quiets down. We all snap into serious mode. The lights dim and we hurry out onto the dark stage.
Sam stands in his position at left center, and then three of us stand in b-plus in a diagonal behind him. I can hear Amanda hushing people backstage. THe lights darken even more. The curtain draws up and I pointe and push every muscle till it hurts. The orchestra begins to play and we snap into action. Sam dances with Lottie while Zoe and I stay in the foreground.
I pique across the stage and then waltz in unison with Zoe. Lottie is lifted up above Sam's head and we bourree out, for it's time for thier pat de deux. The orchestra swells and the tempo drops. Onstage, Sam twirls Lottie into an arabesque. They spin inunison. I take a sip of water. Zoe wrinkles her nose as she rips off a piece of Ouch Pouch and slids it on under her pointe shoe pad. I peer through the curtains. Lottie looks like a model; her auburn hair glinting from a gloss treatment and her eyes shining like emeralds.
Zoe leans in to me. I can smell her Chanel perfume, sweat, and baby powder. "She's so amazing." Her words whisper into my ear.
Then, the sound of leather shoes shuffle across backstage. My reply catches in my chest. Slowly, we turn around. Peter Martins is standing there, sipping Evian. He's wearing expensive jeans, a RL button down, and Ferragamos. He gives us a half smile, and then leans against the wall. HIs eyes examine Lottie and Sam dancing together. Zoe pinches my arm. "Let's go, Massie." She hisses. "It's time for our part." She grabs me by the crook of my elbow.
I nod, and then rub soem more rosin into my shoes. We fouette across the stage and then tombe pique aroudn Sam. He lifts me up and twirls me around and then swirls a press lift into me and Lottie. THe orchestra picks up tempo. We all piroutte and leap across each accented note. We finish with a smile. The audience claps so hard, our ears ring. The velvet curtain closes. Peter claps and walks on stage, sheilded by the curtains. "Excellent job, Lottie. Sam, excellent. And you two..." He points to us. We stare like lost does; our eyes as large as saucers. "That was wonderful. Look out for a solo role soon, eh?" HE walks off.
Zoe and I squeal sliently. A compliment from Peter meant you were going onward in your ballet career. We hop up and down and then literally skip off stage. Daisy and Adrianne are waiting for us in the hallway. "Ehmahgawsh!" Daisy blurs her words together. "You did ah-mazing and you got a compliment from Peter! Soloist here you guys go!" Her voice escaldes across the dark hall. Adrianne's lips lift from a scowl to a sugar incrusted fake smile.
"Yah." She mutters. "Good job." Adrianne whirls around, her blue-black ponytail whipping her cheeks.
Daisy rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. "Whats up with that chica?" She smiles, and then gives both of us hugs. While Zoe goes on the gush and brag about her role in Apollo, I wipe the sweat from my face and walk over to the scedule board. My finger scans the sheet. I have rehersals tommrow starting at 3:00, and a warmup class after lunch. Then i remember that tommrow is THursday. Piano lesson day. My fingers shadow the pattern of Chopin's Nocturne in C flat minor. I smile, and then turn away.
My face comes face to face with Adrianne. Her eyes shoot daggers into my skull. "Um...Adrianne?" I ask, slowly backing away from her. "You okay?"
She bites her lips. "Just...nothing." We walk down the hall to our dressing room. She mumbles something about doing Orpheus after intermission, but all i can think about is that i got a compliment from Peter. Soloist, here i come.