Authors: Wendy Potocki
“So what do you think of that choreography?” Tina asked, digging into her fruit compote.
“I love it ... I just can't do it. Think that's a problem?” Missy joked.
“I know! I keep tripping over my own feet—not to mention my partner's! Gawd, what am I going to do?”
“Practice?” she suggested, sampling some vanilla ice cream. “Mmm ... delish.”
“I think you've got something there. I would love to practice more. It's like the couple hours we get isn't enough. I mean, I just want to get in a studio and go over the steps ... alone ... without Alexei watching. If I can just memorize everything, and mark the variations a few times, I can do it. I know I can.”
“Sure. I agree. And there’s no reason you can’t,” Melissa said, spooning in more ice cream. Seriously considering letting Tina in on her secret, she wasn't the type to be shooting off her mouth and giving it away. And it would be nice to have company.
“What? What do you mean?” Tina asked, pushing her empty plate away. Stretching her arms out, she reeled them back in, resting her chin on the palm of one hand.
“I mean that I found my own place. It’s where I disappear to at night,” she confessed with a smile.
“Own place? Where?”
“In the annex. Near Una's office.”
“And she doesn't see you?”
“It's not on her floor. And she's almost never there in the evenings.”
“Oh, please, can I come! I promise I won’t say anything! I swear!”
“Sure!” she responded, giving her a high five to seal the deal. Tina engaged in very subdued squealing, not wanting to cause attention to the party she was having inside. “Just meet me outside on the porch in twenty minutes for Operation: Practice Time!”
Chapter Twenty-six
“No, it's
emboité, emboité, emboité, emboité, followed by two lame ducks.”
“Then what?” yelled Tina, marking the tricky combination.
“Then it's pas de bourrée over and then under ending with an entrenous.”
“Yes, that's what I'm doing wrong! I don’t do the second under! So I …”
“…ended up on the wrong foot! I know, it’s diabolically confusing,” she commiserated, joining Tina in a giggle. “I was doing the same thing until I had a 'hud' moment.”
“Hud?”
“Yeah, the opposite of a ‘duh’ one!”
Laughing, Tina wiped back fresh sweat. The two had been at it for two hours and were so close to getting one error free pass down.
“Then it's the fouettés?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I'm going to try it once more,” Tina announced, getting into her starting position.”
Lifting her head, she turned out from her hips while Melissa hit the play button.
Tempted to yell out the steps, Missy remained silent. Tina had to do it on her own. Her graceful friend sailing through the first part, she got to the two pas de bourrées, Holding her breath, she was ecstatic when Tina nailed the combination. Ending up on the correct leg, she pliéd, grinding out the fouettés. Executing them like a consummate pro, Melissa broke out in soft applause as a reward for getting it right.
“I did it?” Tina asked unsurely.
“Um, yes! You think I’d clap if you got it wrong?”
Realizing how ridiculous she’d sounded, Tina relaxed into another easy laugh. Grasping the neckline of her leotard, she uneasily looked around. Feeling she was being watched, she’d felt spooked ever since stepping foot in the studio. Reticent to bring it up, she didn't want to ruin the vibes of the practice session with overtones of paranoia, but she had to say something.
“Do you feel anything strange?”
In the middle of taking a drink of water, Missy pulled the bottle away from her lips.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, like someone is watching you.”
Letting out a heavy exhalation, Missy swung an arm over Tina’s shoulders. The two lowering themselves to the ground, it was time for a serious talk.
“You don’t know how glad I am that you said that.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve been feeling that way ever since I got to this place, but everybody pretty much accused me of being crazy.”
Tina grabbed her hand, giving a supportive squeeze.
“No, you’re not crazy. I feel it too, but in this studio, it’s wicked bad. Look, I’m getting chills!”
“Tell me about it.”
“What do you think it is?”
“I have no idea. I caught Alexei looking in once. And then there’s Viktor.”
“Viktor?”
“Yeah, you’d figure a creep would be creeping around.”
The joke breaking up the hostile atmosphere, Tina sunk into a laugh.
“You’re right there.”
“The good thing is that it doesn’t matter. Nothing’s ever happened and it could have. I think it’s just that this is an old place and …”
“And sometimes old places creak and groan. Mix that in with the woods, and being away from home, I guess the combination could cause it. You don’t think that it has anything to do with Brandi going missing, do you?”
“How could it? She most definitely was at the train station. So whatever happened, happened
after
she left here!”
“I guess.”
Looking around, Tina rubbed her arms, feeling a slight chill.
“You ready to call it a night?” Missy queried, giving her a friendly grin.
“No, I think I’m going to stay a little longer. I used to do 32 fouettés after every class. With them being included in the choreography, think it might be a good idea to get in the habit again.”
“Okay, I’ll stay and watch,” Missy said, beginning to scoot over to the side of the studio.
“Heck, no! You go to bed! Might take me awhile to get through them all.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure! You’ve been using this studio almost every night, right?”
“Yes, but … I don’t mind waiting. Really.”
“I’ll be fine,” Tina replied, giving her a kiss on her cheek. “You go to bed. No sense both of us suffering.”
Grabbing her bag, she slung it over her shoulder.
“Okay, but promise that you won’t be too long.”
“Promise,” she said.
Missy gave her a wide grin. Saluting her with a water bottle, she turned to leave.
“Oh, and Missy?” Tina called out.
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
Nodding, she padded out, leaving Tina alone. The temperatures dropping, the girl from California was regretting her decision to stay. The feeling that someone was with her was overwhelming. Slowly scanning the room in the mirror, she didn’t see anything … or anyone. Satisfied, she dimmed the lights, spotting Melissa's sweatshirt on the ground. Tucking it into her dance bag, she’d return it before class tomorrow.
Wanting to get the stupid turns over with, she determinedly crossed the studio, giving herself a pep talk. Turning on the music, the strains of the Black Swan filled the room, providing enough atmosphere to get into character. She imagined herself as the icy, calculating Odile. Visualizing herself dazzling the
slightly idiotic prince, the sap couldn’t even tell a girl who dresses in all white from one in black.
Running to the center, she assumed a fourth position, relaxing into a deep plié. Completing a double pirouette, she launched into the series of turns.
“
One, two, three, four
,” she silently counted.
A soft, unexplained noise stopped her cold. Telling herself that nothing was wrong didn’t work. Staring into the mirror, she searched the studio again. Although the reflective surface gave her the reassurance that she was the only one present, she wasn’t convinced. Unsure where the sound came from, she decided to check outside. Drawing in a deep breath, her pointe shoes made clacking sounds from the shank meeting the hardwood planks. Grabbing the handle of the windowed door, she waited a moment before swinging it open. Opening it in one flourish, she was treated to an unoccupied expansive space. The corridor was deserted.
Retreating into the studio, she crossed herself, holding her hands in prayer. Saying a few words of thanks for no one being out in the corridor, she wasn’t in the mood to receive visitors. Restarting the music, she resumed her position in the center.
One, two, three, four
,
Whipping her leg around, she fixed on her image in the mirror. Noticing she’d left the door ajar, it threw her off. Collapsing on her supporting side, she regrouped, gathering her center. Upright and straight as an arrow, she synched her movements to the rhythm of the music. Ambient sounds forgotten, she energetically sprang onto pointe, her ankle allowing the fluid motion. Pushing her heels forward, she whirled her head around looking only forward. Called “spotting,” she concentrated on only one point of focus. Only seeing her reflection in the mirror, it was a technique that dancers used to keep from getting dizzy.
Eleven, twelve, thirteen ...
Soft footsteps in the hallway drew her attention away from practice. Thinking it was Melissa coming back for her shirt, she merely smiled. She’d be happy for the company.
Eighteen, nineteen, twenty ...
“It’s in my bag!” she called out.
Anticipating her friend’s familiar form in the doorway, a flickering shadow skittered in. Only seeing it in her peripheral vision, a sense of discomfort arose. Suspecting the row of windows as the culprit, she speculated it was a headlight from a distant car.
Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven ...
The hair on the back of her neck standing on end, a shadow moved behind her. Regretting dimming the lights, it was too dark to properly see. She wanted so badly to turn around, but was determined to finish the series of turns. She was letting things get to her. Scrutinizing the reflective surface, she was alone, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had company.
“Melissa!” she called out, hoping to receive an answer. Only the music playing, it neared completion of the phrase.
Twenty-nine, thirty, thirty
-one …
She was so happy that she only had one more turn to go. Entirely prepared to forego doing her left side, she readied to grab her bag and leave. There would be no lingering in this place any longer.
A sound similar to nails clicking along the floor caused her to spill out of the last turn. Ending in a splayed fourth position, she froze. Feverishly searching the mirror, there was nothing but endless black.
“Who’s there!” she screamed as a spidery hand struck out.
Talons ripping across the back of her ankles, they severed both Achilles tendons in one swipe. Screaming out, she fell to the ground. Writhing in pain, her pointe shoes were soaked with blood.
A hooded figure mounting her, she screamed again, trying to get away. A growl emitted from the creature pinning her down, skeletal hands trapped her in an icy grip as the heartless creature whispered into her ear.
“Momento mori, Christina. Momento mori.”
Chapter twenty-seven
Melissa awoke sore from last night's dancefest. Starting her morning ritual by luxuriating in a nice hot shower, it usually did the trick in flushing out lactic acid. The hot deluge more than refreshing, she spent way too much time under the shower head. Feeling at least human, she was finally ready to start her day.
Brushing through her hair one last time, she made sure she was satisfied with her appearance. She tugged at her icy blue top, tossing her mane over one shoulder. Famished and craving breakfast, she headed downstairs, hearing loud voices drifting up the stairs. Leaning over the banister, there was a crowd gathered in the lobby. Anxious as to what was wrong, she increased her pace. Her fellow students congregated in front of the office. Milling about, they resembled sheep that had lost their shepherd.
“Melissa!”
Responding to her name, she scanned the group. Seeing Collette's raised hand, her friend pushed through, meeting Missy at the foot of the stairs. Her eyes red, she'd been crying.
“What's wrong, Collette?”
Throwing herself into Missy’s arms, she tried to answer through frequent sobs.
“Oh, my God, Melissa! There are police cars outside, and, and the classes have been c-cancelled. I think it has something to do with Tina! Sh-she didn't come back last night! I mean at all!”
“What?” Her voice verging on hysterical, she didn’t care. Grabbing Collette, she tried to steady her friend. “I don't understand. What do you mean she didn't come back?”
Fresh tears streaming down the angelically soft face that was rimmed by pre-Raphaelite curls, her cheeks were flushed from emotion.
“It's like I said, she didn't come back! She wasn’t there when I went to sleep, and when I woke up this morning, she still wasn’t! Her bed wasn't even slept in! What the hell is going on, Melissa? What? First, Brandi and now Tina ...”
Melissa held Collette to her, trying to quiet her down.
“I know what you're feeling, but one thing has nothing to do with the other,” she explained tenderly, “Brandi left, remember? Wrote a note and took a cab. What you're saying is something completely different. There was no way Tina was leaving. I just talked to her and ...”