Dance Academy: Second Chance Page 4

  ‘You could be,’ Ben says, ‘if you changed out of that formal jacket. Put on something floaty … Let your hair down in the middle of class …’

  Tara suddenly gets it. ‘I’m Miss Raine.’ She peels the Post-it off her forehead, and shakes her head. ‘It’s a spinster omen. What is wrong with me? I used to turn around and – bam. Crush central. Now – nothing.’

  I’m determined not to look at Christian.

  Tara can’t help herself on this topic. ‘There are officially no crushworthy guys at the Academy.’

  Ben blinks at her and looks away.

  ‘Ben’s hot,’ Ollie says.

  ‘Ben?’ Tara scoffs.

  ‘Nice,’ Ben says. I can tell he’s hurt.

  ‘Exactly!’ Tara says, digging herself in deeper. ‘You’re too nice. You’re all goofy and harmless …’

  Now she really is offending him. It’s awful. I want to put my hand over her mouth!

  ‘Harmless?’ Ben’s got a strange look on his face, and then suddenly he launches towards Tara and kisses her. That sure shut her up. After a couple of long seconds, he sits back in his chair again like nothing happened. ‘Must be my turn,’ he says. ‘Do I have insured body parts?’

  No, but maybe he should! Unfortunately, Tara is now looking at him like he’s the hottest guy on the planet.

  The next day, after morning classes, Christian and I are skateboarding when Tara runs up to me. ‘Kat, please tell me you guys don’t have plans.’

  I look at Christian. Now what is she up to? It doesn’t take long to find out. She wants to bring Ben and make up a foursome. We end up hiring tandem bikes and wheel them down to where the guys are waiting.

  ‘Ben only kisses someone when it means something,’ she says. ‘He told me so himself.’

  I don’t like the sound of this one bit. I try some common sense. ‘But if you were going to fall for him, don’t you think it would’ve happened already?’

  ‘Look, I’m back. After everything. The old me, the hopeful me, is back.’ She laughs, and I can’t spoil her mood.

  ‘You always did need a project.’ We get to the boys and Christian screws up his nose.

  ‘Tandems?’

  ‘Who’s not a fan of tandems?’ I say brightly. Christian and I climb onto our tandem and take off. I don’t want to watch the Ben-and-Tara train wreck that I’m sure is about to happen.

  CHAPTER 7

  For once, I’m happy to be in first year. The second years seem to be in chaos yet again, and it’s hard to work out what’s going on. Even Abigail is acting strange. I see her coming back into the building, flushed and mentally miles away, and I have to ask.

  ‘Six dental appointments in three weeks. And you don’t eat any sugar.’ I sniff the air close to her. ‘I smell boy.’ That must be it – Abigail’s in love!

  She doesn’t deny it, just smiles. Miss Raine appears so I make myself scarce but I can hear Abigail coughing all the way down the corridor.

  Then someone leaks the staff email about who has the best chance at the Nationals, and Ben gives everyone a T-shirt with a tick or a cross on it. Except Ben, who has a question mark. It’s kind of funny – again, I’m just glad it’s not me. I hardly see Christian at all these days; he’s obsessed with practising – alone.

  Tara and I are in the common room a couple of days later, and she’s still wearing that tick T-shirt like it’s magic or something, except it’s getting grubby. She catches my eye roll.

  ‘It was a present from Ben,’ she says. ‘The second thing he’s ever given me.’

  I try not to gag.

  Abigail comes in, looking desperate. ‘I need your help,’ she says, her voice croaky. ‘Mum’s had me doing Helen Keller since six a.m.’

  Oh, no, not Helen Keller! I shudder. ‘That solo gives me nightmares. Not to mention your mother.’ Her mum is seriously OTT. ‘So what do you need?’ I ask.

  ‘She’s gone back to the motel, but she’ll be here soon. I have to go meet someone, so can you please –’

  She starts coughing and looks so terrible, I’m really concerned. But happy she’s in a romance. ‘In the name of love, I’ll distract her,’ I say.

  ‘You’re in love?’ Tara says. ‘Me too.’

  Abigail glares at Tara and is already heading out the door.

  ‘I’d advise no tongue,’ I call after her. ‘You give a guy the flu, they hold that against you.’

  ‘I don’t think Ben has germs,’ Tara says.

  Oh, dear!

  But we do our job and keep Abigail’s mum, Anthea, busy. We end up in my room, sewing costumes. My least favourite job. ‘It’s a regular sewing bee here, isn’t it?’ I say.

  Tara is on the other side of the room, still fiddling with that stupid T-shirt. She’s lit candles and is performing a love spell and has sewn a red love heart on the shirt as well. ‘As these magic knots entwine, let thy heart be linked to mine.’

  Anthea raises her eyebrows at me and I say, ‘Love spell.’ But Anthea’s off on another tack.

  ‘Tara,’ she says. ‘How come you don’t have Sunday training sessions like Abigail?’

  Oops, our cover story is slipping. Tara isn’t quick enough to think of an answer.

  ‘Um … I have to bury this under an oak tree for twelve hours.’ She grabs her T-shirt and bolts out of the room, leaving me to explain. If I can.

  ‘You know how Abigail is,’ I say. ‘She’s so much more dedicated than everyone else here.’ I wave my hands around a bit. ‘Cardio this, Pilates that. And training … and more training …’ Yep, I’m babbling again. But Anthea has been ferreting through Abigail’s stuff and comes up with a red binder.

  ‘And rehearsals for Review. A new independent musical.’ She holds up the schedule for me to see but I’ve got no idea what she’s talking about. What musical?

  ‘Well, that’s a … curveball.’ So no romance?

  As for me, I finally get to see Christian in the afternoon. He’s coming down the corridor with Ben, and I’m with Tara. I haven’t dared tell her about Ben having tests – Christian swore me to secrecy. Only we know that Ben has been worried that he might be coming out of remission with his cancer. Tara goes straight into slushy-Ben mode.

  ‘Look at you. You have that cold.’

  For a moment, I think Ben has bad news about his tests, but then he smiles. ‘You’re right, I have a cold. That’s all I have.’ He shoots a look to Christian who grins, too. I jump up and down. He’s okay!

  Tara doesn’t get it. ‘But if I’d known I could’ve made you chicken soup or …’

  ‘I love colds,’ Ben says. He picks Tara up and twirls her around, laughing.

  Tara doesn’t need to know. It’s Ben’s life, after all.

  CHAPTER 8

  Tara and I are in the studio – I’m trying to make her feel better about the National competitions for the Prix de Fonteyn. Everyone agrees the judges were horrible and biased, and the scores were ridiculously low. Ben and Christian are sparring and suddenly Ben turns and calls out, ‘Hey, Tara. Want to hit the beach?’ and flashes her a big smile.

  She smiles back, surprised. ‘Now?’

  And away they go, together. Christian doesn’t look happy. I hope he’s feeling the same concern as I am for Tara. Concern that Ben might hurt Tara.

  The next day, it’s the contemporary dance section in the Nationals. I wait backstage with Christian, being his support team, and it’s Ben’s turn next. Tara stands next to him. He looks nervous.

  When his name is announced, he grabs her hand and squeezes it.

  ‘Try not to hurt yourself,’ Tara says, and he gives her a caring-sharing look. I have to know more.

  ‘T? That must’ve been some seaside adventure.’

  She blushes. ‘We’re on the friend ladder.’

  The what? ‘Yeah, no. He didn’t just look at you like a friend.’

  She’s almost buzzing with it, and can’t take her eyes off Ben. He gazes across the stage at her, and then focuses. The music beg
ins and Ben starts his dance.

  ‘Incredible, isn’t he?’

  Christian is right behind us and hears. ‘Yeah. Maybe ask him why he’s suddenly all over you.’

  I give Christian a look. ‘Because he’s enchanted by her winsome charms.’

  ‘He’s trying to psyche me out,’ he says.

  Tara turns. ‘Really? I’m so hideous no one would like me unless there’s an agenda?’

  I can’t let that one go. ‘And why, pray tell, would it psyche you out, boyfriend?’

  ‘It wouldn’t. Just don’t get hurt, okay.’ He walks away before either of us can reply. ‘Ignore him,’ I say. ‘The competition’s warping his brain.’ Totally.

  Tara just nods and goes back to watching Ben on stage, but I can see a flicker of doubt in her face.

  When it’s Christian’s turn to dance, I decide to sit in the audience and end up next to Zach. The music starts and Christian moves into his first steps but he doesn’t look focused and is making mistakes, pausing and overbalancing. I start biting my fingernails as I watch.

  ‘What’s going on with him?’ Zach asks, but all I can do is shrug. I don’t want to try and guess. Christian keeps dancing but we can all tell he’s not into it.

  When Sammy comes onto the stage it’s almost a relief. His dad and brother are sitting near us, and I hope his dad is here to support him.

  Sammy makes a great start, and then suddenly the music stops. What’s gone wrong? He looks around, and then he says, ‘Why don’t we make this an immersive experience and you guys just imagine the music?’ And he dances without the music! He is amazing – when the music just as suddenly comes on again, he doesn’t miss a beat, just keeps going to the end.

  His dad leaps out of his seat and starts clapping madly, and we all do, too. He blitzed it, and his dad looks so proud.

  At the medal ceremony, the main judge makes the big announcement and I hold my breath.

  ‘The following four dancers will be representing Australia in the International Round of the Prix de Fonteyn.’

  I so want Christian to win – I don’t know what he’ll do if he doesn’t, but he really didn’t nail it. He must know …

  Grace wins the girls’ silver medal. I’m still holding my breath – and Tara wins! I want to rush on stage and hug her, I’m so happy. But I also notice Ben and Christian glancing at each other.

  Then it’s the boys’ turn. The silver medal goes to the guy from Tasmania, Michael Slade, but for some strange reason he’s not there to collect it.

  Finally, the judge says, ‘And the gold medal is awarded to … Samuel Lieberman, National Academy.’

  Wow, neither of them won. Sammy won! His dad is over the moon, leaping out of his seat again.

  ‘Australia, these are your representatives,’ the judge says, and we all clap and whistle. I think my hands are going to drop off, I clap so much.

  Could that be me one day? I can’t think about that. I just want to celebrate with my amazing friends.

  CHAPTER 9

  After the Prix de Fonteyn has been announced, the four medal winners have to go on the local morning TV show. When Tara and Sammy arrive back at the boarding house afterwards, he looks devastated. We gather in the lounge to find out what happened, and Tara and I try to console him. He just stares into space like he’s traumatised.

  ‘Seriously, you were funny,’ Tara says. She turns to us. ‘He was funny.’

  ‘I don’t even remember what I said.’ Sammy frowns. ‘It’s this black haze of shame.’

  Ben and Ollie are playing darts behind us and Ben says, ‘So what I’m hearing is – you want a party for when the episode screens tomorrow?’

  Sammy shakes his head, but Ollie says, ‘It’s your fifteen minutes of fame. I’d lap it up.’

  Somehow I don’t think Sammy agrees.

  Christian passes, heading out, and Ben calls, ‘Reedo, I’ll need your help honouring our heroes.’

  Christian just scowls. ‘I’ve got audition prep.’

  He looks so grumpy, I decide to follow him and see what’s going on. ‘So no guilt, obviously, but I have been a dutiful Prix girlfriend for weeks now. You don’t really want to spend tonight in the studio?’

  ‘Why? Because I screwed up the Nationals, I should just throw the rest of the year away as well?’

  Whoa, he is being a bit grim about this. ‘Uh – didn’t say that. Wasn’t thinking it. My only conversation agenda is that I thought maybe we could hang out?’

  I smile but he keeps going. ‘You might be happy hanging out in the corps but I’m going for Hook. Try being supportive.’

  He heads off, and I just stand there, stunned. What did I do to deserve that? I’m still trying to work it out later, sitting on Tara’s bed. She’s cutting up the tick T-shirt that Ben gave her, paying special attention to the heart she sewed on it. I eat more chips. I need food to help me with this.

  ‘I must’ve been desperate,’ she says. ‘He’s so … Ben.’

  ‘I’m thrilled Christian’s committed to ballet. I’m committed to ballet. I could be Tink.’

  We hardly notice when Grace comes in.

  ‘You would be perfect for Tinkerbell,’ Tara says to me.

  Grace shrugs. ‘It’s kind of earmarked. Zach basically offered it to me.’

  Yeah, right. ‘And how does that work?’

  ‘I think he might be having a Lolita moment.’ She gets this little-girl simper on her face that makes me want to puke. Plus she’s lying.

  ‘Don’t even joke about that,’ Tara says. ‘Zach is old and married. It would be totally wrong. And gross.’

  ‘And fictional,’ I add.

  Grace looks upset, so Tara picks up a pile of cards. ‘We’re going to play cards. Shall I deal you in?’

  ‘For another round of Tara and Kat versus Grace? Sounds super fun.’

  Grace rushes out, like we’ve majorly insulted her but she doesn’t fool me.

  The next day Christian finds me in the kitchen eating cereal. ‘Hi,’ he says. ‘So you were right, I’ve been –’

  ‘Neglectful? Yes. Yes, you have.’ I’m not going to let him get away with a quick sorry this time.

  ‘Can I make it up to you?’

  ‘I have an audition in a couple of hours. Although, I’ll probably only end up “hanging in the corps” so …’ He does actually look sorry, even embarrassed, so I relent. ‘How was Captain Hook? And don’t ever tell me I’m not supportive. I dream of dating a pirate.’ At least I still make him laugh. But I do notice he doesn’t answer my question. Instead he wants to take me out, so off we go, although he won’t tell me where. I soon find out, though. A motorbike training place, of all things! Next thing I know, he’s sitting on a bike, all kitted out.

  ‘Wow. I sure am one lucky girl,’ I say. Not.

  Christian laughs. ‘I’ve been putting it off because of the Prix. You should get your licence as well.’

  The instructor, a bearded guy, arrives. ‘All right, Christian. You ready?’

  ‘Born ready.’ He grins at me, and I try to smile back but I’m just not too sure what’s going on with him. Where did this come from? And I suspect he’s never been on a bike before, so I’m worried. Even more so when he wobbles on the first corner, but then he seems to pick it up and get into it quite quickly.

  ‘Go Wheels! Big cinnamon rolls!’ I call, trying to be that supportive girlfriend.

  Christian pulls up beside me and asks the instructor, ‘Can we do the advanced circuit?’

  ‘Next lesson, mate,’ the instructor says. ‘You did well.’

  He goes off to move the witch’s hats but Christian doesn’t want to stop. ‘Give me one more minute.’ Before I can say anything, he takes off again at top speed, and the bike wheel lifts off the ground. The instructor yells, ‘Idiot! Slow down!’ but Christian takes no notice. He gets to the corner and keeps swerving around hats, and the instructor runs across the tarmac towards him.

  I feel sick. Why won’t he stop? Then he hits a tu
rn and is still going way too fast. The bike veers, he puts his foot out and the next thing he’s down, skidding across the ground. He’s thrown off the bike altogether, rolling across into the dirt, and comes to a stop at last, holding his arm. All I can do is run to him, hoping he’s not hurt. But he is.

  We get to Dr Wicks’ office and the doctor examines him and puts his arm in a sling.

  ‘It’s just dislocated,’ Christian says, like it doesn’t matter. ‘I’ve done it before. Skating.’

  I shake my head, so angry I want to hit him.

  ‘Awww. You’re all cute and worried,’ he says.

  I explode. ‘Of course I’m worried! I just saw you face-plant the road for no apparent reason. And I thought you were desperate to play Hook? What if it doesn’t heal in time?’

  He shrugs, this obstinate look on his face. ‘Then it doesn’t heal in time. I didn’t feel like auditioning anyway so –’

  I’ve heard this line before. ‘So, hang on. You blew off the end-of-year production because you felt like deliberately crashing a bike at 50 ks an hour?’

  ‘No. I didn’t say that.’

  But I don’t believe him. I stand up. I’ve had enough of this rubbish.

  ‘Nurse Katrina. Where are you going?’

  ‘You might need excuses and gravel rash to protect your fragile male ego from … I don’t know … failing again. But I have an audition to get to.’ And I get out of there. I refuse to let him mess up my audition.

  I’m not even sure I want to watch the TV screening of Sammy and Tara on that show, but I end up in the common room and Christian is there.

  ‘Zach said I could audition next week,’ he says. ‘Depending on my shoulder.’

  Why should I care? I eat my biscuit.

  ‘Guess it was a good lesson early on, in terms of road safety. “Don’t ride angry”.’

  Huh. Don’t ride stupid, more like it. I take another bite.

  ‘Can you make me one of those biscuit things?’ Christian asks.

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘So you’re going to be mad at me for a while?’