Silhouette (14 page)

‘Thanks, Paige, you’re a lifesaver.’ I take the tablets and down them with a swig of Diet Coke. ‘Ready for more?’

She looks at me evenly. Everyone else is going home except me, Paige, Lachlan and Tadpole. Around us is relieved laughter and lots of tired farewells.

‘Come on, you lot,’ says Tadpole with a click of his fingers. ‘Time to show them what we’re made of.’

‘Saccharin and caffeine?’ I groan.

Even Miss Penelope seems tired of being here. Her fuse is so short that she’s yelling by the time we’ve reached the fifth step.

‘
Avant
, Scarlett!
Sissonne en avant
!’

‘Sorry!’ I call as we keep going.

It’s hard to find my way into this piece. There’s no energy coming from the steps. I haven’t had a chance to practise them on my own. We’re halfway through when I miss the timing of a jump, and lose the thread entirely.

‘No, no, no, Scarlett!’ snaps Miss Penelope. ‘Your partner is
waiting
and where are YOU?’

‘I know, I know.’ I turn to Tadpole. ‘Sorry.’

‘Not good ENOUGH,’ shouts Miss Penelope.

Tadpole wipes dampness from his hairline, breathing hard. When he notices I’m watching, he pulls a face, tongue between teeth. It makes me smile, but at the same time I know what he’s thinking.
Just get this done so I can go home.

I get through the rest of the piece without messing up. Miss Penelope marks out a section with Tadpole, but says nothing to me. A meaningful nothing.

We’re a short way into the next run-through when I miss another step and the yelling starts again.

‘No,
no
. I want you to swap,’ says Miss Penelope. ‘Understudy in. Scarlett, mark through the steps until you know what you are doing.’

‘I know what I’m doing.’ Quickly I turn from Miss Penelope to the others. ‘I’m just tired.’

‘No tiredness allowed!’ bellows Miss Penelope.

Frustration flares in my chest. I step aside, pressing a balled fist into my thigh.

Lachlan hovers as if to step in with me, but I pretend I don’t notice and start marking through on my own, pausing here and there so I can watch Paige dancing with Tadpole. It’s a victory dance that the prima ballerina shares with her spirit once her love of dancing has returned. Not romantic at all, but considering who’s dancing the roles, I can’t help expecting some kind of spark.

As soon as Paige moves into position I can tell she’s been practising. The steps come easily, and with precision. She reaches the section that I kept messing up and executes it perfectly, so I take the chance to mark it through, fixing it in my mind before watching the rest.

Overall the dance is smooth and seamless. Tadpole knows what he’s doing too. But still, I can’t help feeling as if something’s missing. Where’s the spark?

It’s only then that I realise what’s wrong. Paige never looks at Tadpole. She holds her head high, facing front when she’s meant to, but when the time comes for her to look at Tadpole, her gaze always drops. It takes so much away from their performance.

Once they reach the end, Miss Penelope calls Tadpole and Lachlan aside. Paige and I are left standing. Our eyes meet before she looks away.

It feels so weird and tense. ‘Hey, well done,’ I say. ‘That was awesome. You’ve been practising.’

‘A bit.’ Paige is watching me warily.

‘It’s almost perfect. If you just make sure you really
look
at Tadpole, you know, in the arabesque, and just before the lift?’

She puts her hands on hips, chin jutting. ‘
Thanks.
I’ll keep that in mind when I’m dancing it at the grad performance.’ Each word drips with sarcasm.

‘Look, I was just trying to help.’

‘Because now that you’ve done a music video, you know everything. Is that it?’

What is her problem? ‘Listen, I really didn’t mean anything. Next time I’ll keep quiet, okay?’

For long seconds Paige just glares, and then lets out a breath. ‘Next time, you won’t say anything because you’ll be the one who’s dancing.’

There’s no way I’m sticking around once we’ve finished. I grab my stuff and mumble a goodbye. Halfway out the door, I stop.

I think about how it felt to step aside …

No wonder Paige has been acting so weird around me.

Inside my bag is an ad I tore out of
Dancer
magazine ages ago and have been meaning to give her. It’s not much, but it’s all I have. A peace offering.

Paige is zipping up her jacket when I find her, no Tadpole in sight.

‘Here,’ I say, handing her the crumpled gloss paper.

Her eyes travel over the page before finding purpose. ‘Moulin Rouge. Auditions.’ Paige looks up. ‘For when I miss out on the NBC?’

I tell myself not to take the bait. I turn it into a joke and pop my eyes like a teacher talking to a naughty student. ‘
Noooo
. But I thought it was interesting. See? You have to be over –’

‘A hundred and seventy-five centimetres,’ finishes Paige.

‘How tall are you?’

Muscles clench in her jaw. ‘Tall enough.’

‘Well, it’s good to know, isn’t it? And how awesome would it be to work in Paris? You’d even get to make use of all our French classes.’

‘Yeah, thanks.’ But the way she pushes the paper into a side pocket of her bag makes me think it’s never coming out.

We’re quiet for a while, but I don’t turn to go. It doesn’t feel finished. Soon Paige inhales, scanning the empty seats of the theatre. ‘Do you want to go and grab a bite?’

‘What about Tadpole?’

Her mouth scrunches to one side.

‘What’s going on?’ I ask.

‘You mean you haven’t noticed?’ Her eyes flash for a moment before she swallows. ‘Nothing. That’s what’s going on.’

Understanding hits me with a mix of guilt and relief. It’s not just me that’s making her like this. I jerk my head towards the door. ‘Come to my place?’

She nods, staying quiet on the bus and hardly looking at me.

Once we get home, I send Paige to my room then throw together a plate of carrot sticks, crackers and cheese, the sound of bad piano scales filtering through from the living room.

When I walk in Paige is hunched over a magazine lying on my desk. At the sound of the door, she swivels towards me. She opens her mouth to say something, then clamps it shut. She almost seems angry. Confused somehow.

‘Here.’ I leave the plate on my desk and settle onto the floor. ‘So tell me … what happened with Tadpole?’

There’s a moment when she just looks at me. She opens her mouth, swallows. Shakes her head.

‘Come on,’ I push. When did Paige stop telling me about this kind of stuff?

Finally she says, ‘I’m not sure what happened, really. We’d been hanging out and hooking up a bit. Except, we’d been busy so we didn’t spend much time together. And then last week, I asked him where we stood – you know, if he wanted to make it official.’

‘And?’

‘He said that he just wants to focus on school at the moment, and the show.’ She looks miserable. ‘But I could tell that he was just saying that.’

I shuffle closer on my knees. ‘I don’t know, Paige. You’re just as focused as he is. Maybe after we graduate –’

She’s shaking her head before I’ve even finished. ‘Nah. I can tell. It’s over … not that it even started in the first place.’

I’m not sure what to say, so I pick up the platter and hold it out. She loads up on carrot sticks.

‘Maybe it’s a good thing.’ I grab a cracker. ‘We’ve got enough to deal with as it is.’

Somehow Paige crosses her long legs in the desk chair. ‘You seem to manage a social life as well as everything else.’ When I shrug and keep munching, she glances at the magazine on my desk and back to me. ‘So what
is
going on with you and Moss Young?’

I’m not sure what to say. There’s so much I haven’t told her.

Paige wrinkles her nose. ‘What do you
do
when you see him? Are you like one of Moss Young’s groupies or something?’

‘No,’ I say sharply. Did she really mean that? ‘No, I … we … we’ve
been
together.’

Her eyes go wide. ‘You mean –’

I nod slowly, watching her expression. Sharing this with Paige makes me realise how much I care what she thinks.

‘Wow, Scarlett. That’s really … You’re like, Moss Young’s girlfriend?’

Now it’s my turn to look down. ‘Not exactly.’

‘Not exactly?’

I know how this will sound. ‘We can see other people … it’s just sometimes he sees me.’

I don’t want to look at her.

‘More like
he
still sees other people,’ Paige says.

I shouldn’t have said anything. Paige will never understand.

‘Scarlett … what are you doing? He’s using you.’

I’m shaking my head. ‘No. No, he’s not. He’s been honest the whole time. I mean …’ I’m not sure what else to say, so I just finish. ‘He’s
Moss Young
.’

‘Yeah,’ she laughs dryly. ‘I rest my case.’

My jaw clenches as I stand up. I know it sounds bad when I say it like that, but she’s not even trying to understand. ‘I’ll go and get something to drink.’

Moss calls late on Sunday, less than a week since I last saw him. A good sign, I decide.

‘We’re heading out,’ he says. ‘Thought you might want to join?’

Energy explodes through me. ‘Sure!’ I can’t help grinning. I’ve spent the whole morning doing homework, then working like a demon through the
pas de deux
that I was messing up at rehearsal. As long as I don’t stay out too late, I’ll be fine.

‘Meet at my joint, then we’ll take it from there,’ he says. ‘And babe? You might want to do yourself up a bit.’

‘Okay,’ I say slowly. ‘See you soon.’

Do myself up? This calls for a little black dress. I’ve got a tiny one with a cut-out back, super short. I spend ages on my hair, blow drying it all wild and away from my face. As I get ready I imagine Moss smiling, liking what he sees.
You’re really something …

I do my make-up next, a bit more tonight. Then I step into some heels.

When I finish, I consider myself in the mirror. Turn my head to one side, strike a pose.

Good.

Downstairs, Mum’s on the phone to Jinni, so I scribble a note and head for the door. It doesn’t work.

She signs off hastily before calling out to me. ‘Scarlett, wait!’

Damn. I decide to take the easy path. ‘I’m going round to Paige’s place, okay? Back later.’ Light and breezy.

For a second, Mum just looks at me. Then her eyes narrow. ‘I called Paige last week when you went out in the middle of the night,’ she says.

‘You called Paige?’

‘And Isabelle’s mum.’

Don’t take the bait. What could either of them have said about me anyway? At least they didn’t give anything away.

‘You never answer your phone. You don’t say anything to me. I need to know where you go, Scarlett.’

‘Why? I’m
seventeen
–’

‘Because!’ she snaps. ‘I’m your mother.’

Our eyes lock but her focus shifts away first. It’s a victory, except I’m becoming tired of this game. I swallow and turn to go. Then I make a decision. The truth can hurt too.

‘I’m seeing Moss Young. The musician.’

‘Seeing him on his own or with a group of people?’ she asks evenly.

I shrug. ‘On his own some of the time.’

There’s barely any reaction, but she has to be wondering what happens when I’m alone with him.

For a moment the distance between us makes my chest hurt, and I have to look away.

‘What time will you be home?’ Mum asks, her voice tight.

‘I … I don’t know.’ It’s just a simple question, and it takes me a moment to realise how she flipped everything back to me. ‘Not too late. I have rehearsals tomorrow.’

No arguing. No demands. No comment on my clothes. ‘Okay.’

‘Bye.’ For some reason, I’m slow to turn.

‘And Scarlett?’ she says, making me glance back. ‘Call me if you need to. Anytime. It doesn’t matter how late.’

How has she done this? She’s changed the rules. ‘Yeah, well, don’t wait up,’ I mutter, and head out the door.

Cameras flash as soon as we step out of the car.

‘Moss! Moss! Over here!’

‘Do you have a date for the release of the next album?’

‘What are your thoughts on “Everywhere” dropping out of the top fifty?’

We’ve just arrived at a party being held by Moss’s producer. Invitation only. Except the media seem to have been invited to their own party at the front door.

Bryn and Rachel pose for the cameras while Bruno stands to one side, sucking on a cigarette and stabbing at gravel with his toe.

‘Who’s your lady friend?’ asks someone, as Moss’s arm slips around my waist and pulls me close.

‘Scarlett Stirling. She danced in the “Everywhere” video,’ calls Moss. ‘We’ve become good friends.’

A burst of flashes respond.

‘Just keep smiling,’ he whispers in my ear.

‘Do you have any plans to work together in the future?’

‘Anything more than
friends
?’

‘Scarlett, what are your thoughts on the single?’

There’s so much going on, people pulling me from all directions. It makes me giddy. All I can think is that Moss invited
me
. He knew this would happen …

‘Thank you, thank you,’ calls Moss, raising a hand. He keeps one arm around my waist and guides me inside. ‘Keep them wondering, hey?’ he murmurs.

They’re not the only ones. My cheeks hurt from grinning. I can still see stars from all the camera flashes.

The space inside is huge, breezy and pastel-painted. A white-coated waiter holds out a tray of champagne. I take one and sip, sticking close beside Moss. He introduces me to his producer, who nods as if he remembers me. I meet some musicians that I’ve heard of and some that I haven’t.

By the time I’ve finished my glass, Moss is already on his third. He’s joking about something with a middle-aged couple. He seems to have forgotten to introduce me, but I just act as if he has. The woman has the shiniest lipstick I’ve ever seen.

When Moss and the man crack up about something I didn’t catch, the woman turns and smiles thinly. ‘You danced in Moss’s latest music video?’

‘Yes, I’m Scarlett.’

‘I’m Janine, nice to meet you.’ She holds out a hand. ‘Who did your hair?’