No One's Watching (15 page)

Candace flipped through a magazine bobbing her head to the music coming out of her CD player. “Are you meeting cute Blake and those little girls tonight?”

I plucked at the fringe on my pillow. “Yes.” Blake. Even if he were nice to everyone, I wanted him to be especially nice to me. And not so nice to Shelly. I pictured Blake and me walking hand-in-hand somewhere. Anywhere.

Candace sat forward as she picked up her alarm clock. “Were you supposed to meet them at seven-thirty?”

“Um-hum.”

“Wasn't Blake upset with you when you missed rehearsal last night?”

I sighed. “He sure was.” He wasn't nice at all to me. It stung when he yelled at me this morning.

She flipped her legs so she perched on the edge of her bed, her hair tousled around her shoulders. “You might want to leave now. It's a quarter to eight.”

Blake's face ballooned in front of me like a cartoon wolf, with red eyes and dripping fangs. “Oh, no.” I threw myself off my bed and grabbed a pair of bumpy, white poodle socks from my drawer and my dance bag. I reached for the doorknob and hesitated.

“What's the matter? Get going.”

I swung around, panic bursting in my throat, and grabbed my flute and songbook before croaking, “Later.” I flew down the hall.

Of course, the elevator moved in slow motion, stopping on every floor and cluttering up the space with guys from the computer camp. I had on my stretchy, black shorts, but my ketchup splotched T-shirt wasn't fit for rehearsal. I dug in my bag and found a yellow camp T-shirt they gave us when we had checked in this year. As the elevator descended, I pulled the new shirt over my head and down the side of my body like a cocoon. I yanked my arms out of the armholes of the messy shirt. As I wiggled around, everybody's eyes shifted toward me. Had they never seen a girl change in an elevator before?

I popped my arms through the new T-shirt and whipped the old one off my head through the neck hole.

One kid whispered to a friend as they left on the main floor, “Next year, I want to go to her camp.”

Sorry, buddy.
Like he could sign up and come without auditioning. If dance were easy, they'd call it computer science.

The elevator settled on the basement floor in time for me to stuff the old T-shirt into my bag.
Voilà
. I was ready for rehearsal. I grabbed my flute case and dance bag and jumped out of the elevator.

I followed the Irish music to the studio where Blake, Lindy and Megan were stretching on the floor.

“Sorry, I'm late.” I held up my flute case. “I forgot this and had to run back to my room.”

Megan's stern face melted as she got up to meet me.

“No problem.” Lindy stretched on the floor. “We were just warming up.”

“You brought your flute? How come?” Megan took the case from me.

“I—” Actually, I wasn't totally sure why. I figured saying I wanted to get my flute would buy me time as to why I was late.

“I know.” Lindy raised a finger. “You wanted to play an Irish song for us.”

I nodded.

“To make up for not coming yesterday?” Lindy's blue-eyed stare pierced me.

I melted to the floor. I figured my flute would register as an excuse and then they'd forget about it. “If you don't mind. And don't think it'll take up too much time.”

The girls scooted close to me.

“It'll be fine.” Megan eyed Blake for approval.

“Kit played
Danny Boy
the other day.” Blake nodded.

“I love that song.” Lindy hugged herself.

Blake sat next to me. “Haunting.”

Not sure if Blake and I were on the same page, but I went with it. “I thought I'd play something a little more cheerful.” And something I'd done recently. I found the page for
When Irish Eyes Are Smiling
and opened my flute case.

Lindy took the book. “I'll hold it for you.”

I twisted the flute together and blew across the mouthpiece to warm it up. I played a quick scale and settled into the song.

When I'd finished, everyone clapped, and I relaxed. Even sourpuss Megan seemed to like my playing.

After my flute performance lifted ten pounds of guilt off my chest, I swabbed the flute with the caterpillar on a stick. My nickname for the furry, moppy, cleaning thing.

In the hall, the clapping of one person grew louder. Shelly appeared in the doorway. She wore tiny, white shorts and a bright pink cami. “You and your flute. You can't separate yourself from it. Maybe you should join band instead of trying to dance.” She laughed.

Thankfully, no else did.

Lindy frowned and blinked.

I struggled with the laces on my
ghillies
. “What did you guys do last night at rehearsal?”

Shelly folded her arms across her chest. “You mean while you were lounging in the hot tub with three guys?”

Lindy moved closer to Megan, who was helping me with my shoes.

“Do you want to keep going from where we finished yesterday?” Blake asked.

“Sure. Everybody at the
barre
.” Megan marched in front of Shelly. “If you're going to stay and watch, you'll have to be quiet.”

Shelly's big eyes grew wider. She leaned against the wall and slid down, sitting with her legs folded.

I wanted to hug Megan. I'd never had the courage to talk back to Shelly and here was this twelve year old who did. Way, way cool. Megan was my new hero.

“You don't have to stand at the
barre
.” Megan waved Lindy over. “I need you to help correct them.”

Shelly giggled, and Megan shot her a shut-up glance. Shelly cupped her hand over her mouth, her thin eyebrows raised in surprise. Or shock. But she stayed. What did I ever do to Shelly to make her hate me so much she followed me to an extra rehearsal to torture me?

Megan started the music Mr. Sean had given Blake for us to use during practice. She and Lindy corrected every movement of our legs and feet. Would I ever get this? I had to — I didn't want to look like a fool in front of Shelly.

My face prickled with sweat. How many showers would I have to take today?

“Are you concentrating?” Megan clapped her hands.

Shelly coughed.

“You have to concentrate. The steps only get faster and more complicated. Let's move to the center.”

We followed her back and forth across the floor, jumping, sliding, and gliding. Which was worse, Megan or Shelly watching me struggle through the complicated steps? Megan doubted I could master them. Shelly wanted me to fail.

“Keep your back and arms still. Like Mr. Sean says, your arms appear to do nothing, but they help your back support all of your legwork.”

Shelly mouth-mocked Megan. What was with her? What was she doing here anyway?

Megan ended practice after sizing up Blake and me standing side-by-side. Her face was impossible to read. “Okay. Mr. Sean wants me to report to him. You two did okay today.”

I exhaled. All of us sat in a circle and took off our shoes.

“How'd you like practice?” Blake asked Shelly.

I rolled my eyes, stuffing the
ghillies
back in my dance bag.

Shelly rose and walked over to us. “Very interesting.”

He shrugged. “Maybe next time you can join us. It's a lot of fun.”

Had Blake invited her to practice with us?

She brushed the two strands of hair from either side of her face. “Ha. No, thanks.”

Shelly sat on one leg by Blake, resting her forearm on her bent knee. “I have something to ask you.”

I gathered my dance stuff. I wasn't going to give Shelly the satisfaction of having to listen to her private conversation with Blake.

Megan stared at Shelly while twisting a silver ring so hard I was afraid she'd unscrew her finger. I bent over her. The ring had two clasped hands holding a crowned heart. “Irish?”

“It's called a
claddagh
ring.” She frowned and held her hand out for me to examine, shifting her eyes to Shelly.

“It's beautiful.” I studied her hand in the light before she withdrew it to her lap.

I forced myself to concentrate on Megan and Lindy. “Come on. I'll walk you guys to the elevator.”

Lindy bolted to her feet and slung her dance bag on her shoulder. “Let's go.”

Megan rose slowly.

Yeah, Megan. Hurry.

I was at the door when Shelly raised her voice. “You should stick around. You might be losing your Irish dance partner.”

“How could Kit lose me as a partner?” Blake frowned.

Shelly dipped her head, widening her eyes. “I'm thinking about switching from the
Les Sylphides
solo to the
pas de deux
.”

He frowned. “Okay.”

“Of course, I'll need a partner.” She lowered her eyes and traced a design on the wooden floor with her toe. “Mrs. Ricardo wants you to partner me. Do you want to switch out of this Irish thing?”

Switch?
According to Mrs. Ricardo, these performance pieces were set in stone. Or at least in rosin.

Why couldn't he do both? I studied his dark head.

Shelly read my thoughts as if they were printed across my forehead in neon green. “You can't dance in more than one piece.”

She knew that rule because she was such an expert on everything and the camp directors included her on all their decisions.

“Why would you switch to a
pas de deux
?” Blake narrowed his eyes.

Because she didn't have the strength to dance by herself and needed someone to drag her around the stage? My irritation with Shelly rose from my feet like an elevator.

Shelly shrugged. “The
pas de deux
represents the entire ballet.”

“Uh-huh.” Blake flicked his eyes at me.

“And, of course, you'd be the obvious choice to partner me.” Shelly raised her chin. “The best choice.” She glanced at the rest of us. “Also, because of the schedule and the only one performance piece rule, you'd have to go back to Advanced Ballet and wouldn't be able to perform the Irish dance. I don't see a problem.”

Megan pushed Lindy and me through the doorway, but not before I inspected Blake's face. Was he flattered? Intrigued? Uninterested? I couldn't read it. A smile yanked at half of his mouth.

Should I be worried I'd lose my Irish dance partner? The one who told me to give it one hundred ten percent and not disappoint the little girls?

Megan hustled us into the elevator, leaving Blake and Shelly in the studio. “I can't stand her.” She stabbed the up button.

You and me both, sister.

“Would Blake do that?” Lindy's eyes shifted from me to Megan. “Drop us for Shelly?”

“We'd survive.” Megan stepped into the elevator.

Shelly got everything she wanted. Solos. Attention. Guys. Cell phones. Advanced ballet class. I pictured myself alone, partner-less, dancing as the Irish Snow White. “How many girls are in the
corps
?”

Lindy's gaze floated to the ceiling, ticking off names on her fingers. “Umm. Seven.”

Megan nodded. “Weird. An odd number. Definitely seven.”

Seven. There you go. Snow White and the Seven Leprechauns.

A half hour later, I'd finished telling Candace the whole, awful story in our room. She reminded me about sneaking out with Dira and Nicki to the ice cream parlor to take my mind off my worries. Maybe, but there were so many. There was a quick tap at the door. I peeled myself off the floor and answered it.

Blake presented my flute case and songbook with a smile big enough to use up his whole mouth. “You forgot these.”

I blinked. My beloved flute. I could've knocked myself in the head with the case. I couldn't believe I'd abandoned it. “Thanks.” As I reached for it, he ducked his head around the door. Candace lay on her bed. He pulled me into the hallway.

“What should I do?” Blake held onto my wrist.

“About?” I played like I wasn't too concerned.

He shifted the flute case and book to his other arm. “You know, what Shelly told us in rehearsal. Partner her in the
pas de deux
.”

I yawned. “Is that what you want to do?”

“I'd like to dance the Irish dance duet and the
pas de deux
.”

“You can't have both.” I offered my arms, and he placed the flute and book in them. “When do you have to tell Shelly?”

“Tomorrow.” He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. “Would you mind if I dropped out of Irish dance?”

“It doesn't matter what I think. You should dance in the piece you really, really want.” I knew what I'd choose if I had the choice.
Right?

Blake studied his feet as if they'd give him a clue as to what to do.

When he didn't say anything, I broke the silence. “Thanks for bringing my stuff back.” I paused with my hand on the doorknob. “I'm sure whatever you decide, you'll give it one hundred ten percent.”

I went inside my room with only one question. Would Blake show up in Irish dance class tomorrow?

I hummed
Danny Boy
as I got ready for my morning Irish dance class. I was at the elevator so early I actually rode down with Lindy, wearing a sparkly headband, and Megan, who definitely had lemons for breakfast.

“He's not going to be there.” Megan folded her arms. “I don't know why you keep saying he will.”

Lindy's serene face glowed.

How would I feel if Blake weren't there? Disappointed. Ticked off. Mega ticked off. Shelly would have won another round of whatever we were competing for. Blake had to decide for himself. It wasn't what I wanted him to do that counted.

As we approached the studio, Blake's combination scent of shampoo and cologne lingered. A happy feeling inside couldn't help but bloom on my face. But he wasn't in the room. Was it my imagination, or was the scent leftover from last night?