Breaking Big (9 page)
“What the…?”
“Again!”
I do it again. Perfect again. I don’t believe this.
“Keep practicing,” Odette says. “And don’t forget that you’re still an idiot.”
An idiot who’s in total shock, and I’m not the only one. The door opens and Charis comes in, looking seriously surprised.
“What are you doing here?” she demands.
I open my mouth, but she’s not asking me.
“That stunt this afternoon only got him halfway there. He still has to actually dance,” Odette replies, “and he’ll kill the reputation of the school if he flubs the very last move. Somebody had to deal with it.”
“So you’re helping him? Really?”
“You’re not the only one who cares about the company, Charis.”
“Ladies?” I seem to have become invisible again.
“But you
hate
Robin.”
“How do you know how I feel?”
“Ladies?”
They both turn my way, looking a little startled.
Ha!
So I really did become invisible. Talk about channeling Puck.
“Can he actually do it?” Charis looks questioningly at Odette, who nods.
“Let me see,” Charis demands.
I look over at Odette as she says, “Remember the snap.” I nod.
Feet in fifth position, plié, and then I fly straight up in a perfect double tour. “Third in a row,” I say, grinning.
“You are some teacher!” Charis says, looking at Odette with disbelief.
“Don’t I get any credit?” I ask.
“No,” both girls answer at once.
I’ve been in lots of shows before, but never as part of a professional company. There’s a different vibe. Every dancer knows they’re going to push themselves to the limit, because that’s what we do for the audience. So there’s an air of seriousness and intense focus.
That is, until a runner knocks on the door. He’s ushered into the change room, carrying an enormous bouquet of red roses.
“For Robin Goodman,” he squeaks out. There are titters all around. I want to either die or kill my mother, whichever comes first. Only principals get flowers. I have no choice but to take them, but having done that, I don’t know what to do with them.
Peaseblossom saunters over with a vase. “From your mommy?” she asks sweetly.
“She used to be my mom,” I reply grimly. “She’s just been disowned.”
That gets a laugh. I sigh. I stick the bouquet into the vase, then reconsider. Taking the flowers back, I pull out one long-stemmed rose and present it to Peaseblossom.
“For the ten little bruises,” I say.
Peaseblossom goes red. “I didn’t really have bruises.”
“I know.” I grin. Then I make my way around the room, handing roses to all the ladies. They’re all shaking their heads at this lame performance, but at least I’m getting rid of the flowers. Finally, there’s only one left. I go up to Oberon.
“Just in case you can’t find the flower tonight,” I say as I present him with the rose. The whole room breaks up at the look on the King’s face.
“Gotcha!” I laugh. And the beauty of it is, they really don’t know what I’m going to do tonight. Anything could happen.
* * *
When the orchestra stops tuning its instruments, the lights dim and the buzz from the audience quiets. This is it.
Own the stage
. That’s what they tell you. My grand jeté takes me front and center, and I know the stage is mine. But not only mine. As I do my short solo, I can feel every other dancer onstage. They’re watching me, waiting to react if I do something crazy. I won’t, of course, not in performance, but now I wonder if somebody else will. We’re all on high alert, watching one another, waiting for the opportunity to play up the gags.
Peaseblossom gets me first. When I pretend to be the three-legged stool and she sits on me, she smiles sweetly, then tickles me under cover of her skirt. I buck her off two beats early, because if I don’t, I’ll bust out laughing. Not cool. From the looks on the faces of the nearby fairies, they were in on it, so I use my two counts to tickle the one closest to me. That gets them going, and for the next eight counts, we’re all grinning like crazy. We’re supposed to smile, but this is coming naturally, which makes it way more fun.
Oberon’s flower is where it’s supposed to be, but when he hands it to me, I see the red rose tucked inside the big purple blossom. He gives me a kingly smile, then winks. I swear I leap higher as I dance offstage to make the love potion.
Peter Quince struts when he reads from the scroll. I didn’t pack it with streamers this time, which he no doubt has already checked, but the strut tells us all that he’s on top of it. The audience cracks up when they see that Bottom has decided to keep the tiara on the donkey head, and there’s a breathless moment onstage just before Starveling opens his lantern. Ratinski’s not there, of course, but there
is
a rat. It takes a second for the other dancers to realize that Starveling has stuck a small stuffed rat into the pocket of his costume to honor the memory. I know to look for it, because, well, who do you think he got the stuffed rat from? The inside joke ramps up the energy even more. We are so
on
. It feels amazing.
The energy keeps on building as the dance draws to a close. For everybody but me, that is. My high starts to leak away as the double tour gets closer and closer. I tense up and nearly miss a step. Luckily, I’m supposed to hide behind a tree
right after, so I have a chance to catch my breath and get my head straight.
Focus, Robin!
That’s when I see Odette. She was assigned backstage duties, so she’s been around all night, helping with costumes and props and stuff, but now she’s in the wings. She’s really not supposed to be there, and she never breaks rules, so I keep half an eye on her as she unclips a piece of paper from her clipboard. Then she looks straight at me and very deliberately waves the piece of paper in front of her face.
The snap.
I have twelve more counts to think about the jump. Then I leap out from behind the tree. It’s the last scene of the whole dance, and everybody is looking at me. It’s Puck’s job—no,
my
job—to bring the whole dance—every dancer, every step, every beat of the music—to a satisfactory close. No pressure.
Feet in fifth position, plié, and then I fly straight up, rotating as I go. Twice. Energy shoots from my toes upward, and I’m flying, I’m turning…
Snap
.
It’s a blur after that. The stage manager must have flicked the switch that makes the fog roll
out over the stage, because I can feel myself disappearing from sight. I know the lights grow dim, the curtains close and the music goes quiet, but it all feels like a dream.
Only for five seconds, of course. Then I hear applause, and the rest of the dancers are pouring back onto the stage for our bow. I take my place in line.
Give me your hands if we be friends.
Together we lift our joined hands in the air and bow to the audience.
Mr. Acton is pleased. Not overjoyed but pleased.
“I liked the feeling onstage tonight,” he says. “Light and fun but with an edge. Good work, everyone. We’ll debrief tomorrow morning at nine. For now, your public awaits!” Everybody backstage claps, and Mr. Acton grins, bowing with a grand flourish.
“We were way better tonight than I thought we’d be,” says Peaseblossom. “Even you.” She grins, poking me good-naturedly.
The fairies joke with Starveling about his rat, and Bottom and Titania work out a hitch in Act 4. “I still haven’t got the timing quite right in that middle section,” mutters Peter Quince. It’s interesting to hear the company dancers parse their
performances, but right now I don’t even care. I did it!
Oberon taps me on the shoulder. “For you,” he says, bowing low. He gives me back my rose, and everybody bursts out laughing.
Then Rick bursts through the dressing-room door—literally. His wheelchair practically takes out the doorjamb. “It was great! I went incognito in the audience, and the vibe was good. They really got the fact that it was all a dream. And you, kid”—he wheels around to face me—“that was a mean double tour you managed out there. You were holding out on us!”
We’re supposed to stay in our costumes and hit the lobby as a group, but first we have to mop up sweat and freshen our makeup so we’re not too gross to mingle with polite company. As I wait for the others to be ready, I spot Odette and head her way.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey yourself.”
“What did you think?” I don’t know why I’m nervous asking.
“For a guy who just learned the jump last night,” she says, “it wasn’t too bad.” She has her
odious voice on, but I think I can hear a hint of a smile.
“Come on, Robin, we’re ready,” calls Peaseblossom.
“I have to go. Odette?”
“Yeah?”
“We’re having pizza tonight to kill time until the reviews come out. Do you want to come?”
“Pizza? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I like pizza. So shoot me.”
She hesitates.
“In the kitchen, kind of a midnight raid, so we can have ice cream after the pizza.”
“Ice cream? Gross!” She stalks away.
* * *
Walking out into the lobby as a company member—well, I can’t describe it. There are squeals and shouts of “There they are!” and we’re mobbed. The principals are anyway. Me, well, I am too, but my mob consists mostly of my family and the better part of my hometown.
“Robin!” My mother literally shrieks my name as she runs across the lobby toward me,
spreading her arms wide for a hug. It’s like a bad car commercial. “You were spectacular, the best in the whole show!”
Ouch. Say that a little louder, why don’t you, Mom?
I brace myself for the hug. “Hi, Mom.” As the life is squeezed out of me, I catch sight of Jeremy standing with his mom as she chats up a big donor. He grins at me. Moms will be moms, I guess. Dad’s turn comes next, and my brothers do the man-hug thing, then my cousins and Aunt Sally and Uncle Harry, and after that I kind of lose the names. Everybody’s talking at once, and I let it roll over me until Mom’s voice rises above the chatter.
“But really, darling, that costume? Don’t you think that’s a little inappropriate?”
I swear every single person milling about in the lobby stops mingling and stares at me. All of me. About every inch of me that it is possible to stare at. I sigh.
“Yeah, man,” says my oldest brother. “What can I say? You’ve sure got balls to wear something like that out in public.”
“One wrong move and we’ll be able to see the balls in question!” my other brother adds, laughing. “You better stop that leaping around, bro.”
I lean in so the three of us are head to head. “Take a look around,” I say. Their eyes widen when they see what I knew they were going to see. All eyes are on me, all right, including those of every hottie in the place.
“Whoa,” says my oldest brother. “Chick magnet.”
“Want to borrow it sometime?” I ask.
* * *
Mom wants to do this whole party thing at the swanky hotel, but I beg off until breakfast with the promise that I’ll bring Cam and Jeremy with me. It’s one last hug, and then Dad and my brothers corral Mom and point her toward the door. I mouth a big
thank-you
to them as they head out the door. I think she’s still talking sequins.
I stay and mingle with the company for a while, but they don’t party on opening night, I guess because of that nine o’clock debriefing and all. I’m too keyed up to go to bed, so while I change, Charis, Sybille, Johanna and Mavis steal the key to the kitchen and Cam and Jeremy order the pizza. That’ll keep us going until the reviews come out—online first, and then the media start
printing hard copies for the morning newspaper delivery. I get to the kitchen as Cam and Jer arrive with the pizza, and a moment later Odette shows up. I didn’t think she’d come, but I’m nowhere near as surprised as everybody else.
“Odette,” says Jeremy. “Ah, hi.”
“Hi.”
“Come on in,” says Charis. Johanna stares at her as if to say,
Are you kidding?
Sybille’s frowning.
“Yeah, Odette, pizza’s here,” I say. “You need to celebrate your great success.”
“What success?” asks Mavis. “What are you talking about?”
“You did take note of my absolutely brilliant double tour tonight?”
Cam grins. “No, actually,” he says. “We couldn’t bear to watch, so we all had our eyes closed.”
“Ha-ha,” I reply. “Odette taught me how to do it.”
“No way,” says Jeremy.
“I was there,” says Charis with a shrug. “Saw it with my own eyes.”
“Well, somebody had to do
something
,” replies Odette, with just a trace of odious. “I couldn’t let him embarrass us.”
“So in honor of this miracle,” I say, “I have a gift.”
Odette frowns, and everybody else looks puzzled.
“My mom sent me flowers,” I go on. There are commiserating groans all around.
“Like in Baby Ballet,” Jeremy says, chortling, “when every kid is the star of the show.”
“Yeah, well, what can you do?” I say. “I gave them away.”
“Good move,” says Cam. “You don’t want to be caught dead with flowers.”
“Yeah, all but one,” I reply. With a flourish, I present it to Odette. “For your hitherto unknown teaching skills.”
For a minute I think she won’t take it. Her eyes begin to flare into that omnipresent glare. Then she stops. She takes the rose, and she smiles. Honest to goodness, she actually smiles. There are catcalls all around.
* * *
“I can’t believe you eat this junk,” says Odette, wrinkling her nose at the smell of grease.
“It’s a myth that dancers don’t eat pizza,” Cam retorts. “Do you really want to be the one who proves the stereotype true?”
Everybody bursts out laughing. “Don’t worry,” Cam continues. “We truly appreciate your efforts to uphold the cliché on our behalf, and we love you for it.”
“It’s not only me!” Odette insists as she turns red. “Jeremy comes from a proper ballet background, and he’s not eating pizza!”
So Jeremy locks eyes with Odette and reaches for a piece of pizza. Slowly, slowly, he raises it to his mouth, then stuffs practically the whole piece in. With great huge bites he demolishes it, spraying bits of mushroom and olive all over the table. The girls groan, and Cam and I howl.