No One's Watching (30 page)
Authors: Sandy Green
I inhaled. “I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions.”
“I was rehearsing with her as a favor for Jupiter.” He folded his arms across his chest. “That's all.”
“I know that now. I should've told you what I saw. Or what I thought I saw.”
“Yeah.”
I hung my head. I wanted to dive into one of my
pointe
shoes and hide. “I'm sorry I was so stupid.”
“Yeah.”
I searched the floor, but it wasn't telling me what to do. Stay? Go?
Jupiter popped his head in the studio. “Dude, why didn't you tell me about Tiff? Was it totally gross?”
Blake shook his head. “Later, Jupe.”
“Don't be hard on Kit. She's already beat herself up. Peace out.” Jupiter pounded his chest with his hand, signaled the peace sign and left.
Blake's eyes settled on me, and time halted. My head and heart jumbled in my body and traded places.
“You could have told me what happened. I would have believed you.” I gnawed on my lip.
His breathing was deep and even. “There was nothing to tell.”
“I know what we had was a great thing, and I blew it.” My voice was tiny. “Do you want me to leave? I'd totally understand that.” Please say no. Please say stay.
“Okay.”
My shoulders fell to my knees. I dragged my dance bag out the door and bumped into Megan and Lindy who were loaded with sodas and snacks.
“Where are you going?” Megan asked.
“Kit's taking a break tonight.” Blake followed me to the door.
“That's fine, isn't it?” Lindy's head swished from me to Blake to Megan.
She frowned and picked at the wrapper of her chip bag. “I don't know.”
I poked at the elevator button.
Hurry up and take me away.
“I'm taking a break, too.” Blake strode into the hall. “We'll see you guys in the morning.”
We will?
Right, morning rehearsal. Something to look forward to.
“Okay. Now we can watch TV or something.” Lindy plucked at Megan's arm. “Let's get our stuff.”
Blake followed them into the studio while I pinched back the tears. I didn't want to share the elevator with Blake. Or Tiffany. I glanced down the hall where music played.
The elevator doors opened, and I stepped in. I jabbed the “close door” button. As it closed, Blake's arm thrust through the split doors. He stepped inside with me.
The air in the tight space pressed against me like I was a toothpaste tube. I wheezed.
Blake leaned against the back wall as the doors shut. He studied the ceiling. “Remember the thunderstorm?”
I closed my eyes. How could I forget the most terrifying day of my life?
“When I was lying under the tent, I thought if I got out alive, there were things I had to finish and things I had to have.”
“Me, too.” Like Irish dance. And you, Blake.
He shook his head. “I don't want to make a clean break with you. Or a messy break. Or any break at all.”
I studied his expression as he faced me.
“You have to trust me.” His face softened. “Do you have trouble trusting people?”
I studied my trustworthy feet. Did it count Mom didn't believe in me enough to tell me who my real father was? I shrank and actually could have fit in a
pointe
shoe. Had Blake forgiven me? He had every right not to.
He bent to catch my gaze. “I get my driver's license this year. I've had soccer tournaments in your town and know it's barely thirty minutes away.”
Say something.
He stepped toward me. “I like being with you.”
I straightened up. “Me, too.” Was a relationship another thing to debate with Mom besides Irish dance â a boyfriend? Two things she was set against. Oh, yeah, and Blake was older than me. I didn't care.
His fingertips balanced on my arms. “I want to give us another chance.”
Guilt floated away like bubbles, and my lungs exploded.
“Will you be my dance partner?”
I lunged and hugged his neck. “Yes.”
Yes, yes, yes, Siegfried.
Why did I always compare my life to a ballet? This time, it was
Swan Lake
â Blake was Siegfried, I was the doomed Odette and Tiffany was the evil Odile who tricked Siegfried into falling in love with her. Only it didn't work out that way. Not this time. I didn't have to drown, and I got to keep Blake. Was there an Irish legend with the same story and a happy ending?
The elevator doors opened, and Lindy and Megan stood there.
“Oops.” Lindy giggled.
Blake and I laughed. Neither of us had pressed a floor button when we got in.
“Sorry, this one's taken.” He reached over and pushed the button for the fourteenth floor. We left Lindy and Megan twittering on the studio level.
Then I had my first elevator kiss. It had its ups and downs, but it was sweet. As in sweet, but also sweeeeet. He cupped my face in his hands while I rubbed his wrists with my thumbs. The light was back in his eyes. I was about three hundred percent sure it was in my eyes, too.
“You want to hang out?”
I stroked the edges of the bandage on his forehead.
“Kit?” His blue-gray eyes had a ring of gold around their irises. Cool. He frowned.
“Hang out? Sure.”
We got off on Blake's floor. As we passed Shelly's room, she hobbled out, clutching a water bottle against her crutch.
“You guys are back together?”
“Yup.” Blake took the water bottle. “You want me to fill that up for you?” He headed for the water fountain down the hall.
Her eyes trailed him. “So nice. You're lucky.”
“About earlier. I'm sorry I bit your head off about kissing Blake.” I nodded in his direction.
“No problem. I've put you through a lot, too, I guess.” She scuffed at the carpet with her boot. “Who's the cow?”
“Tiffany.”
Her eyes opened super wide. “Didn't see that coming. You have to watch the quiet ones.”
“I guess.” I laughed.
“Sorry to hear about your grandma. My mom told me she was in the hospital.”
“She's home now. She came home on Monday.”
Shelly narrowed her eyes. “But I spoke to my mom after supper. She visited your grandma in the hospital today.”
“That can't be right.” My forehead crinkled. “Are you sure?”
Blake came back with Shelly's water bottle. “Do you want me to put this in your room?”
“Thanks.”
“Everything okay?” Blake's eyes switched from Shelly to me.
I pressed my fists to my cheeks. “My grandma's back in the hospital. Do you have a cell phone, Shelly?”
She jerked her head toward her door. “Come in, and shut the door.”
When I got back in my room, I sat on my bed and drew a pillow across my stomach, staring into space.
Candace unlocked the door and came in. “Hey. How did rehearsal go?”
“Hi.” I squeezed the pillow. “Good.”
She raised one eyebrow. “Yeah? How so?”
“I found out what actually happened. It was Tiffany who was with Blake.”
“Tiffany?” She sat across from me on her bed.
I told her the rest of the story about the whole episode being a classic misunderstanding, my jumping to conclusions, Blake forgiving me for being so stupid and ending with the elevator ride. And kiss. The best part.
“You sure don't look happy for someone who's gotten her boyfriend back.”
I puffed out my cheeks and blew. “My grandma had her operation yesterday, but she's not doing well.”
“I'm so sorry.” Candace moved next to me. “What happened?”
I shrugged, tears threatening to escape my eyes. “Some sort of complication.”
“How long will she be there?”
“Mom's supposed to let me know. She promised to call Mrs. Ricardo this time. She didn't want me to worry and wants me to be able to concentrate on my ballet solo.” The corners of my mouth pulled down. Poor Grandma. I wanted desperately to do something to help her. All I could do was to send her good thoughts.
I reached for my flute to sneak in another practice session and take my mind off waiting to hear an update about Grandma.
“My mom told me watching a DVD of me dancing the solo will be the best medicine in the world.” I had to get the solo back.
****
On Friday morning, the heat hit us as we went outside to the theater for dress rehearsal. Blake and I held hands as we crossed the street in groups. A poster in the window of the theater advertised the end of camp performance. Inside, the red lobby led to the dark auditorium where Olivia performed the
Sugar Plum Fairy
variation from
The Nutcracker
.
Mrs. Sykes swiveled in her seat as we marched down the slanted aisle. She pressed her finger to her lips to quiet us.
I told Blake to go on without me. I had to talk to Mrs. Sykes. I bent next to her ear. “May I talk with you for a second?”
She scowled at me. “We're in the middle of rehearsal. Can't it wait?”
“Please.” My voice shook.
She pressed her mouth into a small line and motioned me to follow her to the lobby. “What is it?”
I twisted my fingers in my T-shirt. “My grandmother is sick in the hospital, and I know it would cheer her up if she could see me dance the waltz solo.”
She pulled her chin into her neck. “If she's in the hospital, how can she see you dance anything?”
“I'd play the DVD of the performance for her when I get home.”
“But you're not dancing the waltz solo. You made that clear when we scheduled your practice time. You wanted to follow your dream.”
“Watching me dance a ballet solo at dance camp would mean the world to her.”
Mrs. Sykes shook her head. “Following your dreams requires sacrifice, and you've made yours. You should have thought about your grandmother when you threw away the chance to perform the solo.”
“I can dance in both pieces.”
She crossed her arms. “You're trying to please everyone. As a result, you're not pleasing anyone. Including yourself.”
I hated her. How could she be so cold?
“We've assigned the waltz solo to someone else, anyway. Tiffany will dance it.”
My mouth opened. “Tiffany? I thought no one could dance in more than one piece.” And why give it to Tiffany, the boyfriend stealer?
She shrugged. “It worked out that way. I suggest you change into your Irish costume.” She spun and went into the theater.
It took every ounce of control not to explode into tears and red-hot molten anger.
Tiffany!
Life was so unfair. My feet grew roots in the lobby. I'd found two new loves â Blake and Irish dance, and managed to make him and everyone associated with Irish dance miserable. Big time. Including myself. All because I couldn't stick to my decision.
I trudged backstage into the girls' dressing room. Our costumes hung in a long communal room with a bank of mirrors and makeup tables. By the time I sat, a syrupy peace had settled on me. I hate, hate, hated to admit it, but Mrs. Sykes was right. I choked at the thought. I couldn't please everyone.
The girls dancing the ballet pieces tuned everyone else out with their earphones and quietly dressed on one side of the room. Nicki and Candace, along with the hip-hop, modern, and character dancers, played music on a big CD player.
Most of the Irish dance girls had curled their hair by rolling strands in strips of fabric or with puffy wires. Megan agreed my straight hair was hopeless. White hair bands kept our hair pulled off our faces.
I already had on black tights. I tied my
ghillies
and pulled on a white leotard with thin shoulder straps. We all had filmy short white skirts. Mr. Sean had brought these costumes from his home studio. Strips of white, sheer fabric were stitched to our back straps and left to flutter like wings as we danced.
With a damp sponge I patted on peanut butter-colored pancake makeup to use as a foundation, then penciled my eyebrows darker. I stroked brown shadow in my eye creases and drew a short, thin parallel line above and below my lashes, before glopping on plenty of mascara and blush. Megan had a hard time keeping her hands steady, so I helped her and Lindy. Then the other little girls lined up and I fixed their makeup too, glad to be busy. Waiting to perform was boring, and my mind kept slipping back to Grandma. Every time the door opened and another group was called to the stage, I hoped Mrs. Ricardo would be there to tell me she'd heard Grandma had gone home.
Candace waved to me as she and her group clomped out of the dressing room in high-heeled character shoes and flowered skirts. Tiffany followed them, flapping a fan and waddling out the door. I lifted my flute to my lips and blew warm air across the mouthpiece, fingering the keys to the prelude, glad I'd practiced the simple melody every spare second.
Another twenty minutes had passed when the door opened and Candace's group returned.
“How'd it go?”
She reached for a towel and patted her face. “It was great. Except for the lighting. It's dark downstage so be careful you don't fall off.”
“Thanks. See you back in our room.”
“I'll be in the audience waiting for Danilo to dance.” She giggled and went off to change.
An assistant dance teacher entered with a clipboard. “Irish dancers, please line up. Kitri Othersen, you need to see Mrs. Ricardo first.”
Those were the words I wanted to hear.
Blake waited for me by the slices of heavy, black curtains hanging in the wings, hiding us from the audience. His white shirt hung loosely from his shoulders and belled at the cuffs. He'd tucked the shirt into snug black pants and wore his black leather jazz shoes. Tiffany and Jupiter danced on stage to the Spanish music of
Don Quixote
. Her black-edged red tutu dazzled in the stage lights. Tiffany danced the role of the character Kitri in
Don Quixote
. She got to be me, if that was her intention.