Dance of Fire (10 page)

Vanessa looked at the end of her loose braid. ‘Why?'

‘It's too long. It makes you look young.'

‘Thanks.' Vanessa sighed. ‘I'll keep that in mind.'

They pushed through the doors into the bright chatter of the dining hall. It was a vast room with exposed wood beams in the ceiling and a wall of long windows. The tables were crowded with colourfully dressed students. Dancers on the larger teams wore matching jackets printed with their school name, and everyone wore leotards and leggings in browns, blacks, pinks and blues. The boys leaned back in their chairs and scoped out the competition. The girls spoke in nervous whispers, their eyes darting around the room. All of them were wondering who could leap the highest or spin the fastest, who would be cut first.

Vanessa knew because she was wondering the same thing.

Svetya didn't seem bothered by the people staring at her. She picked up a plate as if no one were watching and began spooning up scrambled eggs, bacon and hash browns, plus some items that Vanessa had never seen before.

‘What's that?' Vanessa asked, pointing to something that looked like a burnt piece of sausage.

‘Black pudding,' Svetya said.

‘Like chocolate pudding?' Vanessa asked.

Svetya laughed. ‘Definitely not. It's made of congealed blood. Want to try some?' She used tongs to pick up a piece and held it out towards Vanessa.

‘Um, I'm going to get some fruit,' Vanessa said. ‘I can never dance on a full stomach.'

Svetya just shrugged and put it on her own plate.

Vanessa wandered over to a table stacked with large bowls of fresh fruit and yogurt on ice. A lone banana rested at the top of the pile. She reached for it, but a hand smacked hers out of the way.

Vanessa spun around to find a girl standing before her. She had short caramel-coloured hair, red lips – and her understated designer clothing fitted perfectly.

‘Sorry! Last one!' the girl said in a posh accent. She gave Vanessa a fake smile, peeling the banana as she walked away.

Vanessa stood there for a moment dumbstruck, watching the back of the girl's jacket:
The Royal School of Ballet
.
She was English. This was her home turf.

‘I cannot believe that,' Vanessa said to no one in particular, when she felt a hand touch her arm. She turned, half expecting to see the girl again, but instead found herself face to face with Maisie Teller.

‘Vanessa?' Maisie said in her cheery Midwestern tones. Her light brown hair was pulled into an upbeat ponytail and tied
with a ribbon. She looked bright-eyed and well rested. ‘I just saw the Banana Incident. She's my roommate, Ingrid. She's not . . . nice. Here,' she said, and handed Vanessa the banana from her own tray.

‘Oh, no – you don't have to do that,' Vanessa said.

‘Don't worry,' Maisie said. ‘I had two already.'

Vanessa raised an eyebrow. ‘You're sure?'

Maisie nodded. ‘I'm like a bottomless banana pit.'

‘Thanks,' Vanessa said, and made her way towards the tables. Maisie scurried beside her. ‘She's a fierce dancer,' Maisie said. ‘Ingrid, I mean. She has a tattoo of Margot Fonteyn on her butt. I saw it.'

Vanessa saw Ingrid lean over a table and whisper something to another girl. ‘Exactly how amazing is she?' Vanessa asked Maisie.

‘I found one of her recitals on YouTube. She's
super
-­amazing,' Maisie said. ‘Like, if she wasn't so mean I'd
totally
ask her for some tips. She's one of the better dancers here –' Maisie stopped for a second, then lowered her voice – ‘though Evelyn Giles, who also goes to RSB, is supposed to be the best.' Maisie looked down and sighed.

‘Evelyn?' Vanessa repeated. ‘Which one is she?'

‘The one sitting next to Ingrid. With the mole above her lip.'

Evelyn Giles was lovely, her skin flawless, the mole ­somehow adding to her beauty. Vanessa watched as Ingrid whispered in Evelyn's ear, and the girl's perfect lips curled into a smug grin.

‘So where are you guys rehearsing today?' Maisie asked, interrupting Vanessa's thoughts. ‘And who are your coaches? I didn't see them at orientation.'

‘Just in one of the studios,' Vanessa said. ‘And, um – we have one coach,' she added, ‘named Enzo.'

‘Which studio?' Maisie asked with what seemed like genuine interest. ‘I would
love
to see you practise one day. Maybe we could practise our solos together?' Maisie blinked rapidly. ‘I would
love
your input –'

‘Oh, um, yeah. Maybe . . .' Vanessa said. She spotted Svetya sitting by a window, picking at her breakfast. ‘Well, I – I have to go. But I'll see you later, OK?'

Maisie nodded enthusiastically. ‘Later? Great! I
totally
understand. You're really busy. So am I. I'll just find you after rehearsal.'

Vanessa nodded. ‘That would be great,' she said, forcing a smile. ‘Thanks for the banana.' And before Maisie could say anything more, she walked towards Svetya's table.

‘Who was that girl?' Svetya said. She had already wolfed down most of her breakfast. ‘She's even more pathetic than you.'

‘She's from Iowa,' Vanessa said, as if that explained anything.

Svetya nibbled on a piece of bacon. ‘What is Iowa?'

‘Never mind,' Vanessa said. ‘I think I know who –'

But Svetya cut her off. ‘Less talking, more eating, Adler,' she said. ‘We're already late.'

Vanessa barely had a chance to gulp her milk and peel her banana before Svetya took her arm mid-bite and pulled her out of the dining hall, down the back staircase and through the dusty rear corridor.

‘Do you think anyone's inside yet?' Vanessa said, as they stood in front of the double doors of their studio.

Svetya raised an eyebrow. ‘Let's find out.' She pushed hard on the doors and they swung open.

The room wasn't any more inviting than yesterday, though it was cleaner. The others were already inside; Enzo must have come by at some point and unlocked the doors for them. Geo was stretching at the barre. He nodded to Svetya and Vanessa. ‘Morning, guys.'

Svetya strutted over to Justin, who was warming up by the mirror, and began to stretch. ‘Hello, Justin.'

‘Hey, Svetya.' He gave her a tiny wave, then turned towards Vanessa. ‘How'd you sleep?' he asked, but before she could answer, Enzo came into the room. The mirrors offered ­multiple views of his muscular body. His dark, handsome gaze drew everyone's attention.

Vanessa and the others waited silently.

Enzo slipped off his sweater, his shoulders bulging beneath his leotard. He tugged on a pair of ballet shoes and walked to the centre of the room.

‘Let's get started. We've got a lot to cover today.' He clapped his hands. ‘First, I'm going to show you how to perform the blur step that you saw yesterday.
Le flou
. It requires a unique kind of choreography.'

Enzo placed his feet in first position. ‘To the untrained eye, you seem to move invisibly. But in truth, you just dance blindingly fast from one point to another.'

Enzo disappeared, reappearing twelve feet away near the double doors. Despite having seen him perform the blur the previous day, Vanessa still gasped. Really, it was like magic.

‘The trick is to fix a point in the room in your mind,' he explained. ‘You imagine going through the steps before you begin to move. If you've learned the steps to the point where you don't need to think about them, then to see a place is to go there. You merely
will
it to be so.'

Enzo set his gaze on the centre of the room and raised his hands. There was a flurry of footsteps like the patter of rain, and suddenly he was standing among them.

Vanessa waited for him to explain more, but he only clapped. ‘What are you waiting for?' he said. ‘Begin!'

Vanessa watched as Geo set off across the room, his steps perfect but completely visible.

‘I can see you!' Svetya told him in a teasing voice, but he only grumbled and tried again, going back the other way.

Vanessa searched the room, choosing a spot to aim for, when she spied Justin in the corner. Seeing him there, practising his steps alone, put her mind at ease. She would go to him, she decided.

She imagined her body moving towards his, the way her feet would sound against the wood in a
piqué
, how her arms would rise above her as she reached out for him. He would turn to her, surprised, arms ready to catch her if she stumbled.
But she wouldn't, and he'd rush to her, rapt, his hand brushing against hers in a flush of warmth. She smiled, and before the image left her head, she
willed
herself
there
.

And time stopped.

Or almost. Vanessa turned her head, spotting as she spun across the room, her feet falling into place without any effort. Everything around her had slowed. She could see the others, their movements ponderous and slow.

And before she realised it, she was there beside Justin. The room rushed towards her in a roil of noise and light, as suddenly everything was crisp and precise and normal speed again.

‘Vanessa?' Justin said, holding out an arm to steady her as she fell out of position. ‘But you were just –' He stared across the room. ‘You
did it
.'

Vanessa smiled, hardly able to believe it herself.

‘Huh!' Svetya said from the barre, sounding annoyed. She closed her eyes to try again.

They practised until everyone had sufficiently learned the steps of the blur. Geo was the last to master it, his legs disappearing but his body remaining visible, as if his torso alone was zooming through the air.

‘Enough!' Enzo said with a clap. ‘Practise and perfect this step, because it could one day get you to safety.'

Geo muttered under his breath and took a swig from his water bottle. They were all exhausted, their muscles burning, their legs seized with cramps. Vanessa took off her shoes and examined the bandages on her toes. They were worn thin, the
red blisters on her feet visible through the gauze. Wincing, she pulled her shoes back on and wrapped the ribbons tighter.

‘Up, up, up!' Enzo said.

Everyone groaned.

‘No time to rest.' Enzo snapped his fingers. ‘That was just the
first
part of the day. Now it is time for the
second
. You all need to rehearse the traditional solos that you will be performing tomorrow.'

Each of the dancers once again claimed a different part of the studio. Vanessa settled in the dusty corner by the stacked chairs, where she could see the reflections of the others ­dancing in the mirrors.

By the door, Geo's leaps carried him through the air, his long legs crossing in a
sissonne
, his steps so meticulous that he seemed weightless.

Beside him, Svetya traced a
rond de jambe
, her arms languid and slow as she arched her body forward and scratched at the floor like a cat. She looked feral, vengeful, as she crept across the floor, her entire being a study in
adagio
.

And then there was Justin.

He'd transformed himself into a villain, his shoulders rolling forward as he swooped his torso down into shadow. Then he lifted his face to the light and became a prince, marching in a stalwart
pas ballonné
.

In a flash Vanessa returned to her dream on the plane, when he'd spun towards her, his face transfigured by the demon inside him, a hellish fire filling his eyes and mouth. It was all too easy to imagine Justin possessed by the demon,
lost to her
forever. She'd do anything to stop that from happening.

Forcing her gaze away, Vanessa focused on preparing for her solo from
The Sleeping Beauty
. But as she placed her feet in third position, she felt a tingle creep through her body.

Fatigue
, she thought, trying to shake it off and focus on her steps. But, as if summoned by her thoughts a moment ago, a strange whisper distracted her.

My love
, it said, speaking low in her ear, filling her with a dry heat.
Let me in so that we can again become one.

Vanessa swallowed, her mouth parched. It was
here
, somehow. She shut her eyes tightly and swept her right leg behind her in a sharp arabesque, toes off the ground, focusing on the choreography for her solo. She would not let it into her head.

As her foot came down on the boards, she had a sharp memory of Margaret executing the same move when she herself was twelve and Margaret about to leave for NYBA.

Is that what you want?
said the whisper in her mind.
She is near. I can take you to her. Just let me in.

Vanessa felt her chest constrict, her knees buckle and she fell in a heap on the wooden floor.

Justin rushed over. ‘Vanessa,' he said, helping her sit up, ‘what happened?'

The presence in her head began to fade. Vanessa gasped in a lungful of air and coughed. She was about to answer Justin when she heard one last whisper.

Kiss me. I can take you to her.

Vanessa found herself staring into Justin's eyes. She coughed again, and he handed her a bottle of water.

‘Sorry, everyone,' Vanessa said, taking a drink and getting slowly to her feet. ‘Just a bit dehydrated.'

‘I don't believe that,' Justin said. He stood beside her, his face etched with concern.

‘I'm fine,' she insisted. ‘Just a little light-headed.'

Before Justin could say anything more, Enzo snapped, ‘Vanessa, take five and hydrate yourself. And you three, start again from the top.'

When Enzo finally let them go late that afternoon, Vanessa's legs burned and her feet were sore and raw. A part of her wanted to go back and investigate the picture of Margaret she'd seen last night . . . but a bigger part was exhausted from rehearsal. Right now all she could think about was her bed, and how badly she wanted to curl up beneath the covers and rest. She checked her phone and was relieved to see a text from her mother, saying she and Rebecca would be out for the evening, going to dinner and a show. One less thing to worry about.