Since I hate it when authors put up a prologue and leave it at that, I'm adding the first full chapter tonight as well. Here you get a better picture of who Adele is. Enjoy!!
Chapter One: Typical Day
It was the first cold day of the year. Even though the calendar said September of 1962, the temperature was closer to December. I shivered inside my wool coat, a hand-me-down from my mother. She would still be at work, and would probably arrive home before me. I said two quick prayers for her, one to the Catholic God and one to the gods of my ancestors. My father would not have approved of the second prayer, but those gods tended to protect my mother better than his God did.
I finally reached the stage door to the city auditorium and slipped inside, shrugging out of my coat as the door closed behind me. I followed the long hallway to the dressing rooms, and was lured through another door by the familiar scents and sounds. There was laughter, chatter, and the ever-present smell of stage make-up. There was also the boom of the stage manager, and the smell of the gas stove in the corner running, the boiling of water for tea and cocoa mingling with the smell of fresh cookies. Say what you want about ballerinas, but they sure do know how to eat.
"Adele!" I turned at the sound of my name, sliding my bag under the cleared spot of the long table in the center. A tall blonde girl was running towards me, a mug in one hand and a stack of cookies in the other.
"Hey Cindy." I said as she sat next to me. She popped a cookie in my mouth before I had a chance to finish my greeting.
"You look absolutely frozen!" She exclaimed, shoving my coat to the side and opening my bag for me. She passed me the mug as she began searching for my sweater. "I had to sneak a bunch for you before the guys got to them." She rolled her pretty blue eyes. "You'd think their mothers didn't feed them or something." She handed me my dance clothes and another cookie, pushing me towards the far end of the room. "Now go change!"
I laughed at her maternal instincts, then followed her instructions. I was, as usual, late, and didn't have time to fight with her. She followed, though, and talked the entire time I was behind the pale blue curtain changing.
"So Frannie pulled something during cheer practice last week, and her doctor has ordered her out of the production, which means the Dew Drop is up for grabs."
"What?" I yelled in shock, dropping my school uniform on the floor.
"Yeah." Cindy relished in the gossip. "So Madame is going to have to pull out a replacement. Of course, there is no actual understudy, so who knows what is going to happen." She paused for a moment, then continued in a low whisper. "Five dollars says she picks you."
As soon as she said it, I saw myself up there, the blue costume fitting me perfectly, the sparkling tiara bringing all the attention to me as I performed the dance perfectly. I shook my head against the fantasy. "I'm not old enough." I argued, though the music for the Waltz of the Flowers was still in my mind. "I'm not even part of the company. I'm just a kid."
"You're the best dancer here, Adele." Cindy hissed. "And you already know the choreography because you know this whole show. Not to mention, everyone loves you."
"For completely unfound reasons." I reminded her. Our entire sleepy little town did have some sort of affinity for me, but mostly because of what they thought I was. They thought I was the broken little girl that didn't want to go home because of what was waiting for her. They didn't see the cause for the worry, though. They believed my father's lies, and I didn't really care. Let them believe what they wanted. I could figure my own way out of this mess.
"Come on Adele, just admit it." She sighed. "You would love that part."
She had me, and she knew it. "I do love the spotlight." I admitted, sliding open the curtain. She handed me my shoes, giving me her usual frank expression. "Let's just wait and see what her decision is." I said reasonably. Cindy nodded, though I knew she was just humoring me at the moment.
Tony, the stage manager, made the final call announcement, and we joined the rush of dancers heading towards the stage. We sat as we had been assigned our very first day, Cindy a few steps behind me with the rest of the Chinese dancers. Jamie and I were the soloists, and we were just in front a bit. He smiled at me quickly before Madame called us to order.
She quickly moved past roll and the daily business, as she sensed the tension in the room. She sighed, then continued. "So, you all know by now that Frannie has left our show on doctor's orders." When there was no reaction, she continued. "I will have to replace the Dew Drop, and though you all have your own picks, it is mine that matters most. To be frank, I have picked the best dancer possible. She is our most versatile dancer, and is more than ready for the challenge of two very different dances. I am speaking of Miss Adele Foster." There was clapping, and I felt myself blush. Jamie gave me a quick hug, and then Madame captured our attention again.
"She will need all of our help for her quick costume change, so I expect you all to act like a true company and help your dancer in need. I will be pulling Miss Cindy Nolan in to fill Frannie's spot in the party scene." There was another smattering of applause, and Cindy waved cheerfully. Madame waited for us to settle, then continued. "We have a lot of work to do to work around Frannie's absence. I expect everyone to give me 100% tonight as we go. Now, from the top of the party!" We scrambled either into formation or off stage, all buzzing about the news.
I fielded several hugs, congratulations, and pats on the back from the rest of the dancers backstage. I felt happy for the moment, but it would be nothing compared to when I told my mother.
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I ran home after rehearsal, too excited to notice the cold hair whipping at my dark hair. I flew through the door, running upstairs to drop off my school bag, then running back down to see my mother.
She was at the stove, cooking dinner. She was so beautiful, even in her apron, her dark hair pulled up messily. She looked over at me as I entered, and her ever-present smile grew.
"You look fit to burst, hon." She said, pulling a chair out from the kitchen table. "What happened today?"
"Frannie dropped out of the show." I told her, trying to conceal my smile. "She'll be fine in a few weeks, but the doctor doesn't want her dancing. But guess what! I get to be Dew Drop!!" I was practically hopping up and down, and she came over and gave me a quick hug.
"That's wonderful." She smiled, kissing me lightly on the cheek. "I can't wait to see it."
"It's going to be so great!" I exclaimed, jumping up to help her. "I get to wear the blue costume and everything."
"That always was your favorite." She said. We continued chattering until the front door opened. We fell silent as it closed, and I quickly finished setting the table for three. My father entered the room just a few moments later.
He didn't appear to be rough kind of man. He was cleanly shaven (though now, well past six at night, there was a bit of shadow), dressed nicely, and very articulate. His light gray eyes were sharp and intelligent, his light brown hair slicked back in the current fashion. He wasn't anything to be afraid of. Not yet at least.
"How are my two favorite girls?" He asked brightly. He didn't seem to remember the horrible things he had said last night, and we let him forget them.
"Fine, Daddy." I said cheerfully, flashing a bright smile as I ran up to hug him. He squeezed me gently, releasing me to hug my mother as well. She and I exchanged a quick glance, and agreed to play along with his current mood.
"Dinner should be ready in a few minutes, dear." She delicately. "Adele, go upstairs and wash up."
"Yes Mama." I answered, though I was anxious leaving her alone. I moved as quietly as I could upstairs, waiting for the slightest sign that all was not well downstairs. It didn't come, so I went back down, a new dress on and my hands clean. They were already seated around the small table, and I took my seat on my father's left. We linked hands, said a quick grace, which I repeated twice, and began eating.
"How was rehearsal today, Adele?" He asked, glancing over at me.
"It was good." I said. "Frannie can't dance, though, so Madame gave me the part of Dew Drop."
"That's excellent!" He boomed in his loud voice. "I'm proud of you, sugar."
"Thanks, Daddy." I mumbled, embarrassed suddenly. We continued talking, Mama about her day, Daddy about his, and me about mine. It seemed so light and easy on the surface, but we didn't know how long that would last.
I was clearing the dessert dishes, nearly two hours later, when I first heard the grisly tone in his voice. I quickly poured him a glass of milk and took it out to his spot in the chair with the newspaper. He grunted a thanks, and I silently left the room. Mama came out a moment later, and I knew she heard it too. We were silent and tense as we cleared the dried the dishes, and I glanced at the clock. We were so close to breaking his record tonight, and I was hoping we could make it.
"ADELE!!" He yelled my name suddenly, making me jump. I dropped the plate I was holding, and to my horror it shattered. Ignoring my mother's silent pleas, I headed into the living room, hoping that I got the worst of it tonight.
"What is this?" He asked, pointing to the pile of dirty laundry tucked into the corner. I knew exactly what it was, but said nothing. "What is this?" He repeated, lower and more threatening now.
"It's dirty laundry." I replied.
"Why is it in m clean living room?" He asked in the same tone. Again, I didn't answer. "Adele." My own name sounded like a threat.
"You left it there." I answered softly. I heard the sound of flesh against flesh before I felt the stinging in my cheek.
"I did not!" He yelled, sounding like an overgrown toddler. Suddenly her had both my arms in one hand, and was twisting back, the wrong way. All the flexibility I had from ballet was nothing compared to his sudden strength.
"You pick it up now, before I really hurt you." He said, throwing me to the ground. Even though my body was screaming, I hurried up and did as I was told. His hand was suddenly in my hair, and pulling hard. "Take it downstairs and wash it. Now." As soon as he let go, I ran to the basement, leaning against the washing machine for support. I took a few deep breaths, listening upstairs. I didn't hear my mother's voice at all, which was comfort. I felt something warm and sticky in my hair, though. Sighing, I became searching for the cut. I found, just side my hairline by my right eye. I must have hit the corner when I fell. I took a moment to decide if I should risk the hospital tonight. Eventually, I decided against it. The cut didn't seem that deep, and I had certainly taken care of worse on my own. I made quick work of the laundry, moving as quietly as I could. Still, I caught no sound from upstairs. I didn't get my hope up, though. They could have just moved upstairs.
I crept up the stairs, the house silent. I found my mother in her room, crying into a Jane Austin novel. I quickly assure her I was fine, but the tears continued to fall. My father was downstairs, grumbling to his paper. As quickly as his bad mood came, it crept away. I made my way to the bathroom, ready to inspect the damage.
My dark hair was stick with blood on the right side. I found the gash in the mirror, and just as I had hoped, it wasn't deep enough to need stitches. I washed the blood out of my hair, gently moving around the gash. I flushed that out as well, wincing at the sting. I then pulled a headband on, adjusting it gently. It covered the worst of the cut, and arranged my hair so that no one would notice. Satisfied, I pulled it out, and changed for bed.
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After a few hours of restless sleep, I awoke to a muffled scream. Creeping to my door, I saw the light on in my mother's bathroom, heard the running water, and knew that I had not gotten the worst of it. I slunk over to the lit door frame, leaning against it gently. She had a similar cut on her head, though hers extended down across her forehead. I picked up her brush, and together we figured out her hairstyle for tomorrow, our voices no more than murmurs. A short while later, she kissed me goodnight, and I headed back to bed, oddly relieved. We were done for the night.