The Queen Bee of Bridgeton (24 page)

"So what are you
gonna
do about it?"

"About what?"

"Word on the street is you got kicked out of the fancy white school for cheating."

Great.
Even Tyrell had heard about it. I nodded and took a sip of my tea.

"Well, what are you
gonna
do about it? I know you didn't cheat. You're not like that. And the girl I know who has spent the last eight years cleaning a dance studio in exchange for lessons isn't one that gives up so easily. You're stronger than you think." When I didn't respond, he added, "How are you
gonna
clear your rep and get your man back?"

I stared into the cup as if the answer was swimming around my bitter, sugarless cup of tea. Then a smile formed on my lips when I thought about how I'd already showed my strength, right on Ashley's face. Tyrell was right. I was strong.

"You're right. I didn't cheat. I was set up."

"You got proof?"

I shook my head. "Not really. I mean, I know who did it and there's this girl named
Emmaline
who will corroborate how evil these girls are. It took me hours to convince her to talk at all. But even with
Emmaline
it's still our word against theirs."

Tyrell nodded. "I see how it is. You want me to take '
em
out?"

I giggled nervously, but I really wasn't sure if he was joking or not.

"I better get going," Tyrell said after looking at his watch.  He stood up from the table and put on his huge leather jacket.

"Tyrell," I said, leaping from my chair. "You can stay…if you want."  I don't know what possessed me to say this.  I was confused and lonely and scared and I wanted someone.  I wanted to feel loved.

Tyrell approached me slowly.  He stared into my eyes.  He had beautiful eyes.  His eyelashes were so long and dark they would make any woman jealous. He reached out his hand and traced the side of my neck from my ear to my collarbone with his fingertips.  Then he cupped my face in his hands and brought his thick luscious lips towards me. But at the last second, he turned his face and kissed me tenderly on the cheek.  Then he whispered, "Good night, Ballerina Girl."

The night before my audition, I couldn't sleep.  I couldn't turn my mind off.  Every time I closed my eyes I saw images, Bridgeton, Headmaster Collins, Sasha, David Winthrop, Ashley, Ms. Alexander, Tyrell and Will.  The most traumatic events of my life just kept replaying on this torturous continuous loop in my head. The image that appeared most - Will.  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't purge him from my mind.  I still loved him.

I rolled over and looked at the clock. Three a.m. In six hours, I'd be standing in front of three people who held my future in their hands.  A flutter of nerves filled my stomach.  I needed to talk to someone.  I needed reassurance.  I leaned up on one arm and peered over at Sasha's bed.  She wasn't there.  Three o'clock in the morning and she wasn't home.  I jumped out of bed and ran to my mother's room.

"Mom, Sasha's not here!" I said, bursting through the door.

"What?" she groaned sleepily.

"Sasha's missing.  I think we should call the police."

"She's not missing." My mother yawned. "She called me at work.
Said she's spending the night with someone named Lauren."

"Lauren?
Lauren who?"
My mother didn't answer.  I think she'd fallen back asleep just that quickly. "Mom, do you remember a last name?" I asked, shaking her. "Did she say a last name? Was it
DeHaven
,
Rovick
, Holloway, Smith?"

"Huh?"

"Mom, this is important.  Did she say a last name?"

"Who?"

"Sasha!"

"No, she just said Laura or something."

"Laura? Mom, try to think. Did she say Lauren or Laura?" My mother responded with loud snoring.

I gave up trying to jog the sleep out of my mother's memory and went back to my room even more agitated than before.  Where was my sister the night before my big audition?  Why wasn't she here supporting and comforting me?  Was it even possible that she would be with Lauren
DeHaven
?  No, that wasn't possible.  My mother had gotten the names confused.  Sasha had spent the night over Laura's house.  But no one named Laura went to Bridgeton.

Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep that night.  Before I knew it, my alarm clock blared in my ears.  Since I didn't have to share bathroom time with my missing sister, I took a long leisurely shower.  Still being subconsciously influenced by Will's superstition, I didn't want to wear my pink
scrunchie
or pink ballet tights thinking they were bad luck.  Instead, I opted for a black
scrunchie
and black tights.  I went with a stylish maroon leotard and maroon leg warmers to offset the black. 

On the bus ride to the audition, I thought about the Bitch Brigade and all they had done to me. But I was still here and I still had a chance to win.  As determined as they were to break me that's how determined I was to succeed. This new found strength stayed with me throughout the audition. I held my head high and projected a confidence and grace that made me stand apart from the four other applicants.  I could feel the judges staring at me and nodding their approval as we did the fundamental part of the audition.  For all intents and purposes, I might as well have been the only one on stage as we performed the combinations and exercises that had been taught to us just minutes before.

When the time came to perform my solo, I struck my opening position in front of the three judges.  As the Chopin nocturne began, I blocked out the outside world and let the music move me. I was glad I chose such a slow, smooth, and beautiful song for my first piece.  It allowed me to glide and float across the floor becoming the epitome of exquisite.  The Chopin song contrasted perfectly against the Stravinsky symphony of my second number. In this dynamic piece, I jumped and leapt and executed the choreography with such precision that I even surprised myself. 

 I danced the best I had ever danced in my life.  I think something inside me knew that this was my last hope.  Not only was my technique flawless throughout each piece, but I put so much emotion into every move that I even shocked
myself
.

"That was remarkable," the tall blond judge said as she clasped her hands in front of her excitedly.

"The best we've seen today," said another judge.  He had dark hair and a moustache and seemed a bit overweight to be a dancer.  I guess he could've been a choreographer. "Maybe the best we've seen on the east coast. I'm seriously considering borrowing your entire solo for the company's next performance.  Of course, we'll give you full credit."

"Thank you!" I beamed. I couldn't begin to imagine my name in the
DiRisio
Ballet Company's program as a contributing choreographer.  What a dream come true!

Just then, a man entered the room and handed the blond judge a manila envelope. She read through it then handed it to the other two judges. They started shuffling papers and exchanging awkward glances. Two of them exchanged words in Italian then silence.  My heart started racing. Finally, the third judge, a man with a French accent said, "The
DiRisio
Academy is a world class dance instruction facility.  Only four academy graduates per year are asked to join the
DiRisio
Ballet Company.  Admission into the academy and the company is extremely competitive."

I smiled and nodded not knowing exactly where he was going with his little speech.  "You are skilled enough even now to gain admittance into the company.  Unfortunately, there is not a free spot with the company right now. We are just looking to fill three positions in the academy." He sighed then looked down at the file again.  "The academy," he added, "not only provides dance instruction, but also academic instruction.  It is a school."  My stomach tightened into a knot. "We have to be aware of what message we send when we accept a new student." Oh God, I knew where the speech headed. "While we know you are obviously an amazing and accomplished dancer we cannot accept you.  We've received your transcript from Bridgeton and apparently you were dismissed for an honor violation." 

I didn't hear anything after that.  My breath caught in my throat and I had to remind myself to tell my lungs to do their job. My world came crashing down.  It was over.  Everything was over.

I didn't know how I made it home that day.  I had just danced an audition worthy of the
Joffrey
Ballet, but after that rejection I had trouble making my legs work.  They wouldn't obey simple commands.  It took all of my brain power to tell each leg to take another step forward.  I had to concentrate on not collapsing.  I didn't even have the brain power to find the correct bus to take home, so I focused on one step at a time until I made it back to
Venton
Heights. 

Venton
Heights: the place where I'd probably live for the rest of my life.  I could teach some extra classes at the studio to earn some money, but that wouldn't be enough to survive. 

I tried not to panic.  I tried to be reasonable and realize that I could still have a happy life.  But the devastation of an empty life without love or dance consumed me. Suddenly, a sliver of hope emerged when I looked up and saw Will standing in front of my front door holding a huge bouquet of white roses.

"Why are you crying?" he asked.

"What are you doing here?"

"You first."

"Am I crying?  I didn't realize…" I started rubbing the tears away from my face with the back of my hand as I sniffled. "How did you know where I lived?"

"I've always known.  I never cared."

"Why are you here, Will?" 

 I wanted him to say that he knew it wasn't me and he was sorry that he hadn't spoken to me in a month and that he missed me and that he wanted me back but instead he said, "We need to talk.  Can we go inside?"  I shook my head.  "I don't care what it looks like," he added softly.  As I opened the door to let us in I prayed that the roaches would stay away and not embarrass me.

"Do you want to sit?"  I said, offering the beat up couch hoping that he'd say no, but I don't even think he heard the question.

He placed the roses on the coffee table then ran his fingers through his hair. "I was so hurt when I saw that video," he started as if he was saying a rehearsed speech while he paced my tiny living room. "I couldn't get the sight of you giving yourself to David out of my head.  Every time I closed my eyes I saw it and it made me physically sick.  I didn't want you anymore.  I didn't want to talk to you.  I didn't want to look at you.  But I missed you.  So, I tried to put myself in your position.  I tried to imagine what it would be like to live in a place like this.  I tried to understand how your determination to get out could lead you to do something like that, but I couldn't -"