Black Adagio (4 page)

Freezing until she saw the smile creep into Brandi’s face, her body quickly untensed.

“Whew, you had me worried!”

“Tell you what. I brought a hot plate, but let’s not use it. I’ll bring you downstairs to the cafeteria. You can get tea and stuff, and I can show you around, but you need to unpack first. I know you neat types. Here let me help you unless you object to fingerprints?”

“Oh, you!” she cajoled, lightly pushing her companion.

“And I’m sorry about the cool treatment. It’s just … well, I like to wait before being friendly. It’s easier that way. Especially when I'm competing.”

“Well, then let’s not compete—let’s be friends instead.” Extending her hand, Brandi eyed it for a moment before grabbing it, enthusiastically giving it a pump. “Great! As for the unpacking, there's something that even supersedes the innocuous arranging of clothing in drawers.”

“What?”

“Never mind! Just follow me!”

Stuffing some money in her jeans, Melissa grabbed her key. Locking up, both girls ran down the hall. Brandi gamely keeping pace, they raced down the staircase, mirthful laughter emitted as they went. Melissa jumped down, clearing the final two stairs in a single bound. Her soft-soled boots softened the landing. She sprinted to the door, holding it open for her lagging friend.

“Where are you going?”

“You'll see,” Melissa answered mysteriously, stifling a new round of giggles.

Bolting out the door, Brandi followed suit. Running into an empty field behind the dormitory, Melissa surveyed her surroundings, quickly breaking into a more accelerated stride.

“We're not far enough away!” she explained, her legs carrying her over the dead grass turning into hay.

Giving chase, Brandi galloped behind. Speeding away, the two girls were now separated from the dorms by way more than a throwing distance. Melissa pranced in the middle of the field that had once been used to exercise Irwin Belmont's horses. Stretching out her arms towards the heavens, she spun in place, her screams aimed skyward.

“I am Melissa Solange, and I am so happy to be here that I could cry!”

“Me, too!” Brandi shouted. Spinning next to her friend, she joined in the spontaneous affirmation. “This is the chance I've spent my whole life preparing for! Thank you for letting me be here with my new friend!”

Facing each other, they joined hands. Using the weight of their bodies as counterweights, they pivoted as quickly as they could before dizziness caused them to fall. Lying on the ground, they laughed uproariously, knee-deep in dried leaves.

Unselfconsciously they tossed leaves, crying out joyously. Thinking that the woods shielded their antics from prying eyes, they were unaware that someone ... or something… deep within the recesses of the Velofsky School of Ballet was watching. 

Chapter Four

A few groups of boys and girls bunched together in the large, spacious lunchroom like birds on a wire. Most students sat uncomfortably alone, occasionally looking up to see if anyone noticed their distress.

Taking her time deciding where to sit, Missy carried her tea and muffin on the utilitarian tray. A girl catching her eye, she seemed upset about something way more troubling than being away from home for the first time.

“How about over there by the window?”

“You mean the table behind where that girl is sitting?”

“No, I mean
at
the table where the girl is sitting.”

Brandi looked over and then back at Melissa, scrunching up her face.

“Do you know her or something?”

“No, but we are here to meet one another, aren't we? And she is sitting alone and ...”

“And what?” Brandi asked in a manner conveying either profound confusion or obstinacy over the entire idea.

“Well, let me put it this way, if you were her, wouldn't you want company?”

“I suppose,” Brandi moaned, obviously not convinced.

Ignoring the flash of stubbornness, Missy resolutely approached the sad-faced dancer.

“Mind if we join you?” she asked.

The short, curly-haired dancer seemed astonished at the intrusion. Her mournful solitude was quickly replaced by a sudden gush of good humor that was as bright as the sun shining through the large, picture window.

“Oh, sure! You just caught me by surprise. I mean, some of these girls ...” she said, punctuating the thought with a sigh of extreme disapproval.

“I'm Melissa Solange. Missy to my friends,” she said, taking the seat across from the girl still lost in figuring out why anyone does anything.

“And I'm Brandi. With an ‘
i’
.”

“I'm Collette, and God that muffin looks good.” Directing the remark towards Missy, she didn’t take her eye from it. “I was going to get one. I didn't mean to start about badly, but then that awful girl made that remark and ...”

Melissa was right. There had been some sort of confrontation. Curious about which of the fresh-faced teenagers was the troublemaker, she scanned the room. It didn't take long for her to single out a culprit. A pompous girl holding court at a large table was acting entirely too big for her britches. At least that's how Phoebe would have phrased it. Laughing too loudly, she was doing everything in her power to draw all attention her way. She seemed a classic example of someone that thought all attention was good attention.

“And what?” Brandi asked, picking up the strand left dangling. She was  already warming up to Collette, and to the idea of perhaps including a third into her newly forged friendship.

“Well, that girl over there,” she said indicating the girl Melissa singled out for contempt, “was standing behind me when I reached for one. She said something about why it was that girls with big butts always seemed to be grabbing for the wrong food. Then her friend, the one with the red hair,” Collette identified with a nod of her head, “said that it wasn't a coincidence, but simply cause and effect.”

“Wow, how rude!” Brandi condemned, as she ripped opened a packet of artificial sweetener and poured it into her orange spiced tea.

“I'll say,” agreed Melissa who slathered more butter onto her toasted blueberry muffin.

“You can afford to do that, I suppose. Me,” Collette said hitting her hand against the side of her hip, “I'm gonna always have to watch out for this.”

“Stop it. You are not fat. Not even close,” Melissa admonished. “Don't let the remark of one jerk affect your life.”

Melissa flashed an ominous glare at the dark-haired girl who’d stopped talking to her red-headed friend to eye the trio in a decidedly calculating fashion. Well aware she was being discussed, Melissa could have cared less. What she'd said wasn't right. The fact that she was super thin made it all the worse. Using her natural good looks to her advantage, Missy categorized her type as “toxic ballerinas.” Overhearing Phoebe use the term, her teacher had advised that she avoid them like the plague.

“Missy's right. You look fine to me,” Brandi continued, bolstering the stated opinion.

“Thanks, but I've gotten those kind of comments my entire life. And no, I'm not going to go nutso or anything. I mean, for regular life, I'm okay. In fact, I'm on the thin side, but for ballet? You guys know I have entirely too much junk in my trunk. The problem is when I lose weight, I lose it everywhere but there!”

“Tell me about it! My thighs just won't go down. With or without eating these,” Brandi admitted, holding up what was left of her bran muffin.

“I think you're both crazy,” Melissa admonished, turning her attention back to people that mattered. “You have gorgeous figures and are focused way too much on what a few idiots have to say,” she stated, stopping to wash down a bit of her muffin with some honey-sweetened tea. “I mean, there's always one.”

“One what?”

The voice came from behind Melissa. She whirled around and saw the glassy, doll-like blue eyes. They belonged to the hateful diva they were discussing. Melissa froze. Having no idea that she’d been standing behind her, she wondered how long ago she'd arrived. More importantly, she was curious why the two girls she'd befriended hadn't alerted her to the predator at her door.

“One stale muffin. She was complaining about it,” Brandi blurted out.

“Yes, that seems reasonable,” the girl answered sarcastically. “I just came over to borrow some of these. They're all out of the yellow ones at my table,” she explained, taking a handful of the small packets. “I assume you have no objection?”

Brandi and Collette smiled, shaking their heads docilely. It made Melissa sick that they were acting so compliantly towards someone that was used to throwing her weight around.

“Good. And as long as I'm here, I have something to say to you,” she said addressing Melissa. She leaned down, invading her personal space. “It was smart of you to let your friend over there do your talking for you. I mean, you wouldn't want to start with the wrong person.”

Slowly uncoiling, vertebra by vertebra, she nonchalantly sashayed back to her table leaving Melissa to wonder why she hadn't responded. While not rude, she didn't let others walk over her.

“Gosh, Melissa, are you alright?” Brandi asked.

“A little late for that. Why didn't you tell me she was standing behind me?”

“I didn't know what to say. I wasn't expecting it and then, well, she would have heard.”

“I see. So you put me on the hook.”

“And took you off it!”

“Yes, by lying! I would have liked to answer for myself.”

“I don't think that would be a good idea,” Brandi warned. Rather than help diffuse the situation, it set off Melissa even more.

“I don't either. You start with her now, she'll be breathing down your neck for the duration,” Collette seconded, attempting to talk sense into the girl fast losing her temper.

Neither
was telling her anything she didn't know, but she'd had it. She threw the last piece of muffin down on her plate. She no longer had an appetite.

“What you two don't seem to realize, is that she will anyway. That type always does. Now if you'll excuse me.” Speaking in a clipped tone, she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. Placing it on her tray she rose to her feet.

“Where are you going?” Brandi asked excitedly.

Melissa ignored her. Picking up her tray, she headed over to the troublemaker that had attempted to intimidate her with unwarranted threats. She heard Brandi behind her, piteously calling out her name. She was trying to stop her, but she couldn't. No one could. Melissa had spent too many years keeping quiet about things that bothered her. She wasn't going to take it anymore.

The conversation between the trio at the other table stopped. The red-haired girl sat slack-jawed, giving Melissa the once-over all to find fault so she’d have something to pick on. This time, she couldn’t. The boy to her right, smiled appreciatively. He was going to enjoy sitting back and watching the cat fight.

“Yes?” the raven-haired girl asked, drawing out the last word. She was trying so hard to appear casual, but Melissa saw through the act. She was nervous—as nervous as Brandi and
Collette had been. The sharp-tongued girl's companions tittered, delighted at her nerve.

“Just to set the record straight, I was talking about you,” Melissa proudly admitted.

“What?” her opponent spouted. Looking innocently to her right and left, it was much to her friend's enjoyment.

“You heard me. When you asked what I was referring to when I said there's always one, I was talking about you. I didn't mean a stale muffin. I meant a girl that wears too much make-up and tries to intimidate everyone by shooting off her big mouth. In case you don't know, rude comments are for children that don't know any better. Better grow-up and act your age. No one likes an antiquated spoiled brat.”

The dark-haired girl’s companions gaped, while she squinted, scowling at Melissa. If looks could kill, she would be officially dead.

“And one more thing, honey. When you said not to start with the wrong person, I believe that works both ways.”

Turning her back, she left. She wasn't about to give her any time to think of an appropriate rebuttal. Dumping her trash in the receptacle, she stacked her tray.

Striding back to her room, she was glad about what she had done, but it wasn't over—not by a long shot. No ordinary spat, she had the distinct feeling that she’d just entered into a war.

Chapter Five

“Honestly, Melissa, all I said was that I thought you shouldn't have done that to Zoe. And for that, you're giving me the silent treatment?”

Doing her best to ignore the comment, Melissa continued to stuff her feet into a well-worn pair of pointe shoes. Avoiding Brandi with an ‘I’ since last night, she didn’t appreciate her sharing her unsolicited thoughts about the girl she now knew as Zoe. Choosing to eat supper alone, she'd essentially given her a cold shoulder.

“Hello, Brandi.”

Even with only one interaction with the toxic ballerina, she recognized the whispery growl.

“Hi Zoe!” Brandi responded. “That leotard is to die for. Wherever did you get it?”