Step Up and Dance (4 page)

When Jay finally came out of the senior school building, I was waiting at the bottom of the steps. I rested my hip on the brick pillar, and smoothed a bit of hair that had fallen out of my ponytail.

‘Hey, how did you get there?' asked Jay as he came down the steps to me.

‘I'm a magician,' I said with a shrug.

‘Clearly,' Jay laughed. He lifted his baseball cap and put it on again backwards. ‘Are you using your powers to stalk me?'

I liked the way he looked at me, calm and direct. We headed up the path to the English portables, walking side by side. It was a narrow path, with a wall on one side and a thick hedge on the other, so we had to walk unusually close. I kept my arms tucked tight around my books.

‘Actually, I need to ask a favour,' I said.

‘Fire away,' said Jay, kicking a stone. It skimmed the wall and landed on the path a few metres ahead.

‘I got a letter, see …' I started. ‘But it was forged,' I explained. ‘I don't know who it was from.'

‘Secret admirer, hey?' said Jay, grinning.

Secret admirer!
My eyes narrowed. ‘Do you know anything about it?'

Jay rubbed his chin, ‘Hmmm . . . Let me think…' I stopped walking. It must have been one of his basketball friends. ‘Who was it, Jay?' I asked quickly. ‘Tell me!'

Jay stopped a few paces ahead and turned. ‘Tell me if you liked the letter, and I'll tell you who wrote it,' he said, still grinning.

‘I absolutely
hated
it,' I said slowly, and added in some swearing just to make it clear exactly how I felt about the stupid letter. I didn't want Jay reporting to his friends that I was okay about this.

Jay's smile disappeared and his forehead wrinkled. He grabbed his baseball cap and swung it around the right way, so that his face was in shadow again.

A group of junior school kids walked past whispering and giggling.

‘But . . . I thought you liked Damien Rowsthorn,' Jay said once they had passed.

Damien Rowsthorn
. . . My mouth fell open as my brain went into overdrive.

‘You did it? It was you, wasn't it!' Even as I said it, I couldn't believe it was true.

‘Well …' Jay kicked at the path with his shoe. ‘What's so good about Damien Rowsthorn anyway?'

I shook my head, feeling a bubbling rage start to form inside me. ‘He's . . . he's Damien
Rowsthorn
for heavens sake!' I gestured with my free hand, angrily searching for words. ‘He's gorgeous!'

‘Gorgeous is he? That's all that matters is it, Saph?' Jay had a bitter tone to his voice. ‘Just as long as the pretty people stick together.'

Pretty people!
What was Jay's problem? He had sent me a cruel, forged letter and now
he
was having a go at
me
! What had I done to deserve this? I pushed past him, nearly shoving a Year 7 into the hedge as I went.

I kept walking, not looking back, glad to leave Jay behind me.

In a way I should have been glad that the letter was from him. Jay was better than some geriatric basketball weirdo or a child molester. But I hated the things he had just said to me . . . pretty people? It was as if he thought I deserved to have been tricked.

When I got to the portable steps, I stomped straight up and into class, determined not to let Jay catch up with me.

Miss Ingleby jumped up as if an elephant had charged in, which in some ways it had.

‘Oh, Saph!' said Miss Ingleby, smoothing her hair and sitting back down.

‘Sorry, Miss Ingleby,' I said. ‘I was in a bit of a rush.'

The rest of the class wandered in. I pretended to be busy with my books and pens. But my heart was pounding and my hands were almost shaking.
Why did Jay play such a cruel trick?
I couldn't let it end there.

‘Jay? You're kidding!' Summer screeched, when I told her at the bus stop. ‘Did he say
why
?'

I hitched my bag higher on one shoulder and shrugged with the other one. ‘He . . . well …'
He thinks I'm a superficial bimbo.
‘Um, not really,' I finished.

‘I would never have guessed,' Summer said, and gave my arm a quick rub. ‘You okay?'

‘I dunno. I suppose …' A breeze blew a strand of hair in my face and I pushed it away.

Summer put her hands on her hips and kicked at her school bag. ‘Jeez, that boils me up.'

I swapped my bag to the other shoulder but I didn't say anything. I could tell she was working up to a ‘Summer moment'. She didn't have long, her bus was due any minute. Then I would walk up the street to catch another bus to the dance studio.

‘Who does he think he is?' Summer crossed her arms, and her nostrils flared. ‘He thinks he can treat girls like dirt.' A bus pulled around the corner and started up the road, but Summer wasn't finished yet. ‘Well, he can't. I won't let him.'

I laughed and shook my head. ‘He didn't count on the wrath of Summer, did he?'

‘We
have
to get him back.' Summer picked up her bag. ‘We have to make him understand how
crap
that letter was.'

I was still laughing as the bus stopped with a squeak and a hiss. It felt good to have Summer on my side, sticking up for me. The letter and the talk with Jay had left me feeling naked, as though Jay had X-ray eyes.

‘We'll get him back!' Summer kissed me on the cheek and winked.

I smiled and winked back. ‘Revenge of the nerds!'

‘Speak for yourself,' said Summer and flicked her blonde hair as she walked to the waiting bus.

‘Revenge of the female sex!' I called after her.

‘That's better,' called Summer as she disappeared up the bus steps.

I hitched up my bag and started up the street. This was just the beginning – revenge of the broken-hearted girl.

CHAPTER
3

‘All right boys and girls!' called Lesley as she puffed into the studio, her image following her in the mirrors. ‘I have good news. And I have more good news.'

Gino, stretching in front of me, turned his head away from Lesley and made a crazy face at the rest of us. Good news for Lesley wasn't always good news for the rest of us.

‘We're doing a new opening number,' said Lesley. ‘And it's going to be spec . . . tacular.' She waved one arm in a dramatic circle.

‘But we just did a new half-time number,' groaned Abe, rubbing her calves.

Lesley kept smiling as she pushed some buttons on the sound system. Then she walked to the front of the room and stood facing us with her hands on her hips. I liked the way she moved, even though she was big these days. She must have been an amazing dancer once.

‘Some of the fans have been asking about you – the girls
and
the guys,' Lesley grinned. ‘Who you are . . . What you do …'

Bodies around me pulled out of splits and stretches. This news was interesting.

‘So I'm planning to give you solos. All of you.' Lesley pulled her black hair into a quick ponytail. ‘Thirty seconds in the spotlight. Enough time for you to really strut your stuff.'

As Lesley continued talking about how it would work, I leaned forward and hid my face between my knees. This was exciting. And scary. Dancing with the troupe was safe, even though there were thousands of people watching. Having the other dancers around me, moving with me, was like having a security blanket. I could stay hidden and perform at the same time. But dancing in front of a basketball crowd alone? Every eye watching me. Every move my own.

‘Each of you will hold your last move, freeze in a pose, until all of you are on the court together. Then the whole troupe will dance in formation,' Lesley finished.

I sneaked a look at Megan. She smiled and raised her eyebrows meaningfully. For Megan, this was a dream come true. A chance to really perform.

‘So, you mean we have to make it up ourselves?' asked Abe. She was the only one in the troupe who was frowning.

‘You bet. You're all professional dancers,' said Lesley dramatically. ‘Time to step up to the challenge.'

The phone rang and Lesley ran to answer it.

‘Let me get this straight. Lesley gets paid to choreograph our routines,' said Abe quietly, ‘and makes us do the work for her!'

‘Cheer up, Abe,' said Bec. ‘She's done you a favour. Now you have something new to complain about.'

Abe glared at Bec, and I tried to hide a smile.

When Lesley came back from the phone she played us the music for the new number. It was a Madonna song, not my style at all but good for dancing – strong and sassy. Lesley put it on repeat and disappeared into reception again.

All nine of us started moving then, feeling our way into the song. At first, all the dance steps were small, shy and self-conscious. Megan was the first to come out of herself, with a split leap into a turning swivel on the floor – it was a side to Megan that I hadn't seen much of. The way she was dancing made me want to see more.

Everyone's moves grew bigger and we spread further apart on the dancefloor. Andrew did an awesome series of back flips.

I played with some fast turns and a fan kick, feeling the thrill of being able to use my favourite steps, like finally coming home to my body. I've been dancing since I was five – all my life really – and it's so much more for me than just doing the steps. There's a memory in my arms and legs of every move I've ever done, like an emotion that comes back to me when I move that way again.

I reached out with both arms, then sucked them tight into my torso – a secret moment for myself in the middle of a scary solo. Then I moved to the side and paced through my first steps again. It was a calming, methodical way to work. No time for thinking. Only the moves and how they felt in my body.

Soon I started timing my steps, up to twenty seconds. Then nearing thirty and my allotted time. Finally I stepped naturally into an
arabesque penchée
– my favourite ballet pose, balanced on one leg, torso tilted forward, with the other leg extended backwards in the air. I felt like a peacock with my long tail extended for all to see. It was the perfect end to my solo.

Then I heard a screech. Maybe I wasn't the only peacock in the room.

‘You can't end like that, Saph,' called Lesley, rushing over to me.

‘Why not?' I pulled out of the pose and rubbed at the tightness in my back.

‘You have to hold it for a full minute. Maybe more! I don't want to see even the shadow of a wobble.'

‘Oh.'

Lesley went to watch one of the other dancers and I started work on a different ending. But nothing felt quite right.

‘What if I
promise
not to wobble?' I called.

Lesley turned to face me and put her hands on her hips. ‘Show me.'

Around I went in a turn, arms circling in the air, then I stepped out of the turn and slowly into the arabesque.
And hold
…

‘Looks good,' said Lesley quietly. ‘It
would
look fabulous on the court.'

I kept holding it – back muscles pulled tight, leg strong behind me. I could feel a slight stretch in my thighs. Each breath sucked in, then out. In, then out. But nothing else moved.

I could feel Lesley beside me, watching, probably timing me. Some of the others stopped dancing.

There I stayed, holding my pose.

It was asking for trouble, really. Like volunteering to use the dodgy parachute before jumping out of a plane. Not exactly the brightest plan. But I knew I could do it. And, being the youngest in the troupe, here was a chance to show the rest of them exactly what I could do. Prove that I deserved my place.

‘How long now?' asked Megan, after a while.

‘Fifty seconds,' said Lesley. I could hear a smile in her voice.

Everyone was watching now.

‘Okay, you made a minute, Saph. Point taken,' said Lesley.

I came out of the arabesque and beamed at her, careful to still move gracefully even though my back was killing.

‘Do you still want to do it?' she asked.

I nodded. ‘You bet.'

‘Okay.' Lesley held me by the shoulders and looked into my face. The smiling assassin. ‘But if you wobble, you're OUT OF THE TROUPE!'

‘No problem,' I said, and almost choked.