do any good. I just get worse and my failure seems to make Tara dance better and better. There’s triumph in her eyes when she looks at me. Miss Raine seems to have venom in her veins.
‘Abigail, this is ballet, not gymnastics. Square your hips. Do you even know where they’re facing?’
I look in the mirror, trying to get my hips into the correct alignment.
‘Will you stop looking in the mirror?’ she snaps. ‘Turn out your legs. How long have you been dancing? Can you not hear me, Abigail? Am I not speaking clearly enough?’
If I try to speak I’ll cry. I feel as if I’m in a horrible trap. Even Tara looks upset.
‘It makes it harder,’ she says in a low voice.
‘Excuse me?’ Miss Raine demands.
‘What you’re doing,’ says Tara. ‘When you do it to me … it makes it harder.’
‘Really?’ Miss Raine’s voice rings with sarcasm. ‘You were quite happy to show her up earlier.’
‘I didn’t–’
‘Don’t look so shocked,’ Miss Raine interrupts. ‘To be a professional, you have to be a competitor. I’m relieved you’ve finally figured that out.’ Tara looks at me.
‘If you object to my teaching you are free to leave,’ Miss Raine says.
Tara grabs her bag and leaves, looking guilty and ashamed. Miss Raine turns back to me.
‘Again, Abigail.’
Help sometimes comes from the most unexpected places.
I hate crying in public, I don’t
do
tears. But today has been horrible. I feel miserable about Miss Raine, and confused about my feelings for Sammy. Oneminute I want to kiss him and the next minute I just want him to leave me alone.
‘Company?’ says a voice.
I wipe away the tears and look up to see Jai, the footballer I kissed. I glare at him, hoping he’ll take the hint, but he sits down.
‘That thing yesterday,’ I say. ‘Social experiment. Just so you know.’
‘And I picked out a ring and everything,’ he replies.
He almost makes me smile.
Almost.
‘Rough day?’ he asks.
‘You wouldn’t get it,’ I say.
‘Because I’m a meathead?’
‘Because you’re not a dancer,’ I tell him, trying to make him understand. ‘You don’t have physical limitations that can’t be overcome.’
But Jai nods as if he knows exactly what I mean.
‘Someone taller, faster,’ he says. ‘Jumps a bit higher, hits a bit harder …’
‘The naturals,’ I say, amazed that he really does get it. ‘What I want to know is how you compete with them.’
Jai shrugs. ‘I work harder, I train for longer and I don’t beat myself up when I can’t do what they do. That’s enough.’
I don’t know if that’s enough for me. Can I really stop comparing myself to Tara? I stare out at the harbour, thinking about Tara. She’s a natural dancer, but I didn’t think she was competitive. I was wrong. What I’m thinking is, maybe competition doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Maybe we could actually enjoy it?
The footballers do incredibly well in their challenge, considering how little time they’ve had to practise. They get through the gypsy dance without one mistake. Sure, they have zero technique but they get all the steps right. It’s as much about the energy that they put into it as it is about how perfect the end result is. We clap and cheer them and I can see the ballet boys looking worried. Now it’s their turn to rise to a challenge.
The game isn’t going well. The dancers are nowhere near as cohesive as the footballers, and I keep thinking about teamwork. Some of the Academy boys are playing selfishly – even I can see that. The footballers help each other out – they use each others’ strengths and skills.
At first it looks as if the dancers are going to lose the challenge, but then they start playing likea proper team. They make some careful passes and finally Ethan launches the ball and Christian runs for it, but Ollie and Jai are closing in.
Then, out of nowhere, Sammy makes a spectacular leap. We’re all shouting his name. He lands and crosses into touch
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