It’s supposed to be an extra punishment for the person who organised the party, but the threat of being kicked out of the Academy doesn’t exactly fill me with dread. The place is getting less fun by the second.
Every time I walk through the doors into class, feeling the ache in my muscles from the day beforethat still hasn’t gone, wondering if I can possibly drag myself through another moment of
barre
work, I ask myself why am I punishing my body like this? I’m torturing my body and for what? I really don’t know what I’m doing here. Surely anything would be better than this.
Tara and I are
so
not speaking. She’s even pretending to be angry with me. As if I’ve done anything wrong – other than kiss someone that I thought was interested in me. I think she blames me for the copies of the photo of her and Christian that keep appearing everywhere. Like I actually want to be reminded of that humiliation.
In class, Patrick, our teacher, announces we are going to suffer an additional and cruel punishment. We’re going to connect with nature in the bush and workshop variations of
A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Sean, my
pas de deux
partner, gets excited. He’s got it into his head that we should have an offstage romance and thinks we could share a tent.
‘You can’t deny there’s something between us,’ he says.
‘Something other than your sleaze and my casual loathing?’ I ask.
‘Kat, you’re sad. And I know I can make you happy.’
The thought sends a shiver down my spine.
‘I’m going to prove it to you,’ he continues with a smarmy smile. ‘The wheels are already in motion.’
Before we depart civilisation and hot showers, Patrick uses his class to talk us through the parts we’ll be playing in
A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
It seems like everyone is in love with someone who loves someone else.
‘Kat – you’re dancing Hermia. Feisty, funny and betrothed to Sean,’ he announces.
Yuck!
Patrick continues. ‘Except he’s in love with your best friend, Helena, danced by Tara. She’s in love with Christian and he feels the same way about her.’
‘Delightful!’ I say out loud and then whisper, ‘Someone cue the vomit.’
‘The point you have to remember,’ says Patrick, ‘is that while most of the ballet is about mixed signals and misunderstandings, in the end true love wins out.’
Yeah right!
When we arrive in the designated middle of nowhere location for the camp we have to choose tent partners. Before Sean can pick up my bag, Patrick saves me from tent partner hell and declares the boys and girls will have separate camps. I grab Petra for a tent mate. We need a third so I recruit Abigail. Anyone is better than Tara. Anyone.
As we’re sitting round the campfire on our first evening, I’m upholding the time-honoured tradition of persuading an overseas visitor about the existence of drop bears. Petra just about believes me when we’re interrupted by Sean. He’s bad enough but then Tara comes storming up to me.
‘You have to stop,’ she demands.
‘Excuse me. Sean and I were having a conversation.’
‘I get that we’ll never be friends again but you can’t keep attacking me with this,’ she says, and shoves a copy of the picture of her kissing Christian into my hands.
‘Like I could be bothered. In my mind you don’t even exist,’ I tell her. ‘And it’s so predictable that you think the world revolves around you.’
‘It’s hard not to when you’re waging a personal vendetta against me!’ she practically screams.
I don’t know who’s posting the pictures around, but I wish she wouldn’t blame me for it.
In the morning we start our outdoor nature-embracing workshop. Tara and I are wearing flower wreaths on our heads and wispy nymph costumes. Sean and Christian are ‘fighting’.
‘Boys remember, you’re both in love with Tara,’ Patrick tells them. ‘She’s the one you’re fighting over.’
I roll my eyes. Do I have to spend my entire life
Every time I walk through the doors into class, feeling the ache in my muscles from the day beforethat still hasn’t gone, wondering if I can possibly drag myself through another moment of
barre
work, I ask myself why am I punishing my body like this? I’m torturing my body and for what? I really don’t know what I’m doing here. Surely anything would be better than this.
Tara and I are
so
not speaking. She’s even pretending to be angry with me. As if I’ve done anything wrong – other than kiss someone that I thought was interested in me. I think she blames me for the copies of the photo of her and Christian that keep appearing everywhere. Like I actually want to be reminded of that humiliation.
In class, Patrick, our teacher, announces we are going to suffer an additional and cruel punishment. We’re going to connect with nature in the bush and workshop variations of
A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Sean, my
pas de deux
partner, gets excited. He’s got it into his head that we should have an offstage romance and thinks we could share a tent.
‘You can’t deny there’s something between us,’ he says.
‘Something other than your sleaze and my casual loathing?’ I ask.
‘Kat, you’re sad. And I know I can make you happy.’
The thought sends a shiver down my spine.
‘I’m going to prove it to you,’ he continues with a smarmy smile. ‘The wheels are already in motion.’
Before we depart civilisation and hot showers, Patrick uses his class to talk us through the parts we’ll be playing in
A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
It seems like everyone is in love with someone who loves someone else.
‘Kat – you’re dancing Hermia. Feisty, funny and betrothed to Sean,’ he announces.
Yuck!
Patrick continues. ‘Except he’s in love with your best friend, Helena, danced by Tara. She’s in love with Christian and he feels the same way about her.’
‘Delightful!’ I say out loud and then whisper, ‘Someone cue the vomit.’
‘The point you have to remember,’ says Patrick, ‘is that while most of the ballet is about mixed signals and misunderstandings, in the end true love wins out.’
Yeah right!
When we arrive in the designated middle of nowhere location for the camp we have to choose tent partners. Before Sean can pick up my bag, Patrick saves me from tent partner hell and declares the boys and girls will have separate camps. I grab Petra for a tent mate. We need a third so I recruit Abigail. Anyone is better than Tara. Anyone.
As we’re sitting round the campfire on our first evening, I’m upholding the time-honoured tradition of persuading an overseas visitor about the existence of drop bears. Petra just about believes me when we’re interrupted by Sean. He’s bad enough but then Tara comes storming up to me.
‘You have to stop,’ she demands.
‘Excuse me. Sean and I were having a conversation.’
‘I get that we’ll never be friends again but you can’t keep attacking me with this,’ she says, and shoves a copy of the picture of her kissing Christian into my hands.
‘Like I could be bothered. In my mind you don’t even exist,’ I tell her. ‘And it’s so predictable that you think the world revolves around you.’
‘It’s hard not to when you’re waging a personal vendetta against me!’ she practically screams.
I don’t know who’s posting the pictures around, but I wish she wouldn’t blame me for it.
In the morning we start our outdoor nature-embracing workshop. Tara and I are wearing flower wreaths on our heads and wispy nymph costumes. Sean and Christian are ‘fighting’.
‘Boys remember, you’re both in love with Tara,’ Patrick tells them. ‘She’s the one you’re fighting over.’
I roll my eyes. Do I have to spend my entire life
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