to basics, and we’re watching them
chaine
down the room, bumping into each other as they go.
‘Okay guys,’ says Patrick, ‘come and watch Abigail.’
I return to the corner. I can feel the eyes of the two captains, Ollie and Jai, burning into me.
‘This time take it super-slow,’ Patrick tells me.
I perform the
chaines
slowly, enjoying the discipline.
‘Look at that,’ says Patrick, ‘absolute concentration on technique.’
I feel a little bubble of happiness when he says that, which soon pops when he adds, ‘You’re quite turned in at the hips, aren’t you? This is why it’s good to slow it down. Helps you spot the flaws.’
For a moment I feel that same, shaky panic I used to get last semester, when I felt as if ballet had turned on me. Then I remember what Adam said about ballet not having feelings, and about thinking positive, and it helps me to shake the feeling off. I will use this criticism as a good thing. Teachers only pull us up on faults because they know we are capable of more.
Tara and I have been told we have private classes with Miss Raine every night this week. I feel like shouting it from the rooftops.
This is a huge honour, and I feel as if my focus is snapping back into place like a rubber band. I’ve been kidding myself, thinking that I can sneak around with Sammy and not be distracted by it. All my energy has to go into my dancing – Miss Raine wouldn’t be giving me private lessons if I wasn’t worth it. I hate the idea of not feeling Sammy’s arms around me again, but I know it’s the right decision for my career. When I see Sammy, I tell him about the private lessons.
‘It feels like everything is finally coming together,’ I say as gently as I can. ‘Which is why there’s not going to be any more sneaking around.’
‘Brilliant,’ he says. ‘I’m not naturally stealthy.’
He’s kind of sweet and he’s definitely making me want to kiss him again, but I need to find a way to stop this once and for all.
‘Sammy, there are two types of girls at the Academy,’ I tell him. ‘Girls who are serious about ballet and girls who have … boyfriends.’
It’s the first time I’ve said the word to him, and I don’t think he understands how hard this is. He’s just staring at me with big, hurt eyes.
‘I am not going to interfere with your dancing,’ he says.
‘Obviously,’ I say. ‘That’s my point.’
I walk away, but it’s as if he’s still standing in front of me. I can see his eyes, his gentle smile. I turn back. I’ll allow myself one more kiss – and then I’ll find a way to end it.
‘You can’t kiss someone and pretend it’s irrelevant,’ Sammy’s saying. ‘It means something.’
Kissing him again was a bad idea. I don’t know what’s happened to my self-discipline – I guess this is what happens when you allow people to get too close. It’s messing with my head, and all I want to do is focus on dancing. The trouble is, Sammy is so irrepressibly hopeful, I don’t know how to put him off.
‘It’s just lips,’ I tell him. ‘On other lips.’
Just as I say that, a couple of footballers pass by, and I have a wicked idea. I walk over and kiss one of them on the lips. His friends whoop and laugh, and I feel a surge of laughter bubbling up inside me.
Afterwards, when I think about how Sammy must have felt, I feel mean. Of course I care about him. But ballet comes first – it always has and it always will. I can’t allow him to think that my feelings are as strong as his, or he might never leave me alone.
The trouble is, I don’t
want
him to leave me alone. Why do feelings have to be so complicated?
I get nothing but criticism from Miss Raine.
‘Don’t bash it out.’
‘I don’t want to look at that!’
‘Are you
trying
to make it look ugly?’
Tara can do no wrong. ‘Tara, show her.’
‘This is what it’s supposed to look like.’
‘Clean technique.’
I grit my teeth and try harder, but it doesn’t seem to
chaine
down the room, bumping into each other as they go.
‘Okay guys,’ says Patrick, ‘come and watch Abigail.’
I return to the corner. I can feel the eyes of the two captains, Ollie and Jai, burning into me.
‘This time take it super-slow,’ Patrick tells me.
I perform the
chaines
slowly, enjoying the discipline.
‘Look at that,’ says Patrick, ‘absolute concentration on technique.’
I feel a little bubble of happiness when he says that, which soon pops when he adds, ‘You’re quite turned in at the hips, aren’t you? This is why it’s good to slow it down. Helps you spot the flaws.’
For a moment I feel that same, shaky panic I used to get last semester, when I felt as if ballet had turned on me. Then I remember what Adam said about ballet not having feelings, and about thinking positive, and it helps me to shake the feeling off. I will use this criticism as a good thing. Teachers only pull us up on faults because they know we are capable of more.
Tara and I have been told we have private classes with Miss Raine every night this week. I feel like shouting it from the rooftops.
This is a huge honour, and I feel as if my focus is snapping back into place like a rubber band. I’ve been kidding myself, thinking that I can sneak around with Sammy and not be distracted by it. All my energy has to go into my dancing – Miss Raine wouldn’t be giving me private lessons if I wasn’t worth it. I hate the idea of not feeling Sammy’s arms around me again, but I know it’s the right decision for my career. When I see Sammy, I tell him about the private lessons.
‘It feels like everything is finally coming together,’ I say as gently as I can. ‘Which is why there’s not going to be any more sneaking around.’
‘Brilliant,’ he says. ‘I’m not naturally stealthy.’
He’s kind of sweet and he’s definitely making me want to kiss him again, but I need to find a way to stop this once and for all.
‘Sammy, there are two types of girls at the Academy,’ I tell him. ‘Girls who are serious about ballet and girls who have … boyfriends.’
It’s the first time I’ve said the word to him, and I don’t think he understands how hard this is. He’s just staring at me with big, hurt eyes.
‘I am not going to interfere with your dancing,’ he says.
‘Obviously,’ I say. ‘That’s my point.’
I walk away, but it’s as if he’s still standing in front of me. I can see his eyes, his gentle smile. I turn back. I’ll allow myself one more kiss – and then I’ll find a way to end it.
‘You can’t kiss someone and pretend it’s irrelevant,’ Sammy’s saying. ‘It means something.’
Kissing him again was a bad idea. I don’t know what’s happened to my self-discipline – I guess this is what happens when you allow people to get too close. It’s messing with my head, and all I want to do is focus on dancing. The trouble is, Sammy is so irrepressibly hopeful, I don’t know how to put him off.
‘It’s just lips,’ I tell him. ‘On other lips.’
Just as I say that, a couple of footballers pass by, and I have a wicked idea. I walk over and kiss one of them on the lips. His friends whoop and laugh, and I feel a surge of laughter bubbling up inside me.
Afterwards, when I think about how Sammy must have felt, I feel mean. Of course I care about him. But ballet comes first – it always has and it always will. I can’t allow him to think that my feelings are as strong as his, or he might never leave me alone.
The trouble is, I don’t
want
him to leave me alone. Why do feelings have to be so complicated?
I get nothing but criticism from Miss Raine.
‘Don’t bash it out.’
‘I don’t want to look at that!’
‘Are you
trying
to make it look ugly?’
Tara can do no wrong. ‘Tara, show her.’
‘This is what it’s supposed to look like.’
‘Clean technique.’
I grit my teeth and try harder, but it doesn’t seem to
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