Natural Talent, Book One, Day Eight

(Day's actual word count: 37,315)



I had noticed that most of the girls didn't bother with their lockers in the dressing room. They just left their bags along the wall on their way to class before school, so I decided it would probably be okay to do the same. It was so much handier than trying to decided whether to keep it in my school locker or carry it to class with me. At first, I was nervous. Leaving your belongings laying around at my old school usually meant you'd never see the item again. At Broughton, though, no one messed with other people's things. I guessed it had something to do with the fact everyone was so busy concentrating on their craft. No one had time to commit petty theft.

I ran to social studies and slid into seat just in time to nearly fail a test. At least my grades in that particular class were slowly starting to come back up.

Annoyed, I made my way to the locker room after class. I pulled my clothes out of my bag and dressed quickly. I had to rummage to find my hair pins, but I soon had my hair neatly twisted into a bun. Then, I went to grab my boots, but they weren't in the pocket I usually kept them in. Deciding I must have been dead tired after class the day before, I dug through the other pockets on the bag and then threw everything out of the main bag. My boots were nowhere to be found.

I mentally retraced my steps, trying to make sure I hadn't emptied my bag at home last night. No matter how hard I tried to force myself to remembering taking out my boots, I knew I hadn't. They were just gone.

Already late, I tried to slip quietly into the studio, hoping to grab a pair of ballet slippers and get to the barre before Ms. Aeling noticed me.

Fate, of course, had other ideas. "Nice of you to join us, Miss Stanton," the woman seemed to have added an extra dose of condescension to her coffee that morning. I didn't respond, instead just walked over to the box and grabbed a pair of slippers, hoping they'd fit well enough for the morning. I almost didn't hear her walk up behind me. "Where are your jazz boots?

"I don't know," I admitted. "They weren't in my dance bag this morning." Finding a pair that looked like they would work, I stood and turned.

"Miss Stanton, if you cannot be in uniform for my class, then don't be in my class." Ms. Aeling crossed her arms and sneered at me.

"But I can do this just as easily in ballet slippers."

"I realize you don't know anything about dance, but ballet is not jazz." I hadn't tried to claim they were anything alike. I couldn't anyway. I had never taken a ballet class in my life. "I don't why you're wasting my time, or your classmates' time, but you never belonged here anyway."

A million responses ran through my mind, but I knew any of them would get to my father by lunch, and I'd be in more trouble than I cared to be. "Not that I wanted to be here to begin with," was the best I could come up with. The slippers still in my hand, I stormed out of the studio amid the far too familiar whisperings of the freshman dance class.

I sat in the locker room for the rest of class, and then realized that I still had rehearsal. I stared at the ballet slippers long and hard for several moments. It wasn't even like I was doing any of the dances. I couldn't give myself a good reason to walk back into the studio. Tears stinging my eyes, I changed back to my school clothes and slung my dance bag over my shoulder. As I reached the door to the locker room, I noticed something I hadn't noticed earlier. Black leather peeked out from behind the trashcan next to the door. I bent down to investigate, and found my boots, stuffed behind the trashcan. The tears fell freely. I hadn't misplaced my boots. I'd been sabotaged, and I was pretty sure I knew who had done it.

I stormed down the hall to the lobby of the main theater, curled up on a bench and sobbed angrily until the lunch bell rang. I stopped in the girls' room on my way to the cafeteria to wash my face and try to hide the fact I'd been crying, but the puffiness wouldn't go away.

In the cafeteria, I quickly found Angela and Nicola, who were discussing the dances they were practicing for the Spring Gala. Miguel sat next to Angela. I could tell he was trying to pay attention to their conversation, but had zoned out.

Angela smiled at me, "How's class going, Lindy?"

"Horrible!" I hit my chair with a thud that sent the chair scooting a few inches and unleashed a sound almost like nails scratching down a chalkboard. My friends winced at the noise. "Someone stole my jazz boots, and Ms. Aeling threw me out of class because of it!"

"Are you sure you didn't just lose them, Lindy?" Nicola asked gently.

"No, I'm positive. I found them behind a trashcan as I was leaving class."

Angela and Nicola looked at me in shock. "I bet it was Yoli," Angela turned and started scanning the room.

"I'm pretty sure she was behind it, too. Either her or Sasha. Neither one of them likes me, and they're both bent out of shape because I'm in their precious dance program now." Noticing the slightly shocked look on Nicola's face, I apologized, "No offense. I'm just mad right now." She smiled in relief. I turned back to Angela, "But we have no proof. I can't exactly say one of them did it and expect Ms. Aeling to believe me."

"No, but I can tell Ms. Lemert that someone is messing with girls' bags in the locker room," Nicola assured me. "I still need to talk to her about Ms. Aeling's surprise audition in the freshman class."

"I'm sure she knows about that by now, Nicola." If she wasn't, then I had to wonder what else Ms. Aeling was or wasn't telling Ms. Lemert. I shuddered at the thought.

Angela found her target. "Look at them! They're laughing!" We looked, and sure enough, the Ducks were eating lunch together, laughing about something. "They're probably proud of themselves for getting Lindy kicked out of class. We have to do something."

"Angela, don't get yourself in trouble," Nicola admonished.

"I won't," Angela smiled innocently. "I just want to make it clear to Yoli that she can't mess with our girl."

"I'm sure Ms. Lemert will handle it."

"I'm sure she won't if we don't have proof. Lindy's right, it's our word against theirs. I say we handle this ourselves!" I could see the wheels turning in Angela's head, and it almost worried me. Between her determination and her mischievousness, I knew the Ducks were in for it.

I had bigger things to worry about, though. "How am I going to go back to class? Ms. Aeling is looking for any reason to kick me out of class."

"You'll just go back," Nicola assured me. "Everything will be fine."

"I didn't share her confidence.

==

Technical theater class was becoming more of a pain than ever. I tried to help my team come up with props, but everyone seemed to be working on the entire list, which meant we were creating three of everything. Francine and George were both making some of their props, so they were constantly taking the crafting supplies, usually right as the other person asked for the needed supply. I really wanted to just sit back in the corner and watch the whole scene play out before me, but I remembered what the teacher said. If I couldn't find a way to work with my teammates, my grade was going to reflect it.

Trying not to fail my favorite class, I agreed to go find more supplies so Francine and George could have their own materials. I was pretty sure no one noticed me leaving.

==

In light of my nearly-passing grade in social studies, my still-struggling grade in science, and my dance class woes, Angela and I started meeting after school again. She was brilliant at math, and made learning it a lot of fun. When she explained problems to me, they made sense. On those rare occasions when they didn't, she nearly always had another explanation ready to try to make everything clear. Under her tutelage, I stopped missing math problems on quizzes and tests in both social studies and science.

She was also a gifted dancer, and so part of our tutoring sessions were spent increasing my dance vocabulary and trying to get me to hold myself more like a dancer. As part of my training, she even started teaching me bits of the dances she was learning for the Spring Gala as well as some dances she was choreographing in her spare time. They were hard, but I was having so much fun doing them. As we danced, Angela kept watching me with a guarded expression. As much as I loved having my friend help me out, that look kept making me very uncomfortable.

Going through Angela's tutoring sessions felt like having two additional classes every day, but I finally felt like I was getting somewhere in nearly all of my classes.

==

Angela was such a great teacher that Ms. Aeling was finding it very difficult to find things to criticize about me in class. She had no choice but to let me actually work on learning the dances for the Spring Gala, even as she assured me I wouldn't be dancing in any of them.

One morning as we left the barre after warming up, Ms. Aeling gathered us around her, "Ladies, for the next two months, you will be focusing more on cleaning up your technique. We have to prepare for the level auditions at the end of the year. We'll start rehearsing the Spring Gala pieces after school. Alternates are not expected to attend." She glared pointedly at me as she said it.

I almost didn't notice. My brain was trying to process what she had just said. Level auditions? I had to go through more auditions?

"The intermediate and advanced classes will be focusing on rehearsing for the Spring Gala. If you do well in your auditions, you'll be joining them next year."

Excited murmurs rushed around me, my classmates all eager to test for their level. I didn't share their enthusiasm; I was just grateful to not have dance rehearsals run my life for a bit.

"Now, ladies, into your rows. Tendu en croix. Close derriere on the last one and change to Corner 2. Repeat." I realized that I only understood one of the words she had just said, so I tried to watch my classmates while holding myself the way Angela taught me. I focused on pushing out and dragging in my heel like she had shown me, and moved just a hair behind the music so I could see what the others were doing. The movement felt so awkward. Heel out, point toes, heel in, toes back. Each time I pushed my heel out was in a different direction. We finished one side and turned, only to do the same thing with our other foot. It wasn't too hard. In fact, it was much simpler than most of the exercises Angela gave me in the afternoons.

Ms. Aeling walked between our lines, correcting our placement, our epaulement. She walked past me and whispered harshly, "I don't know why you are still wasting my time, Miss Stanton. You won't pass your level audition. You simply started too late to really become a decent dancer."

Despite myself, I could feel a tear form at the corner of my eye. I couldn't bring myself to hate the horrible woman, but I knew I was getting better in class just as I knew that nothing I did was going to win her over. If she was the only one deciding whether or not we moved up, then I knew I was just as sunk at the end of the year as I had been at the stealth audition. My throat tightened. It felt dry and itchy. I knew I was going to cry, but I really didn't want to give Ms. Aeling the pleasure. Trying to gain control over myself, I started reminding myself that Angela was teaching me the intermediate class' dances and felt I kept up with her fairly well. It worked. A lone tear slid down my cheek, but I wiped it away and kept going.

==

I told Angela and Nicola what had happened in class.

"I'll add ballet into your lessons so she can't use it to trip you up, Lindy," Angela promised. "But don't let her get to you. You're actually doing really well right now. Just keep your chin up and do your thing."

"I can help after rehearsals, too." Nicola was slowly becoming more friendly the longer I knew her. I started realizing she wasn't the ice princess everyone seemed to think she was. Most people just encountered the Nicola who was focused on her dancing and her piano.

The thought of having to test for my class placement next year scared me worse than just about anything else in this school, but knowing my friends supported me and were willing to help me do the best I could made me feel a little better.

==

By the time I got to the props room, Francine and Ravi were screaming at each other. George sat quietly over at the workbench, occasionally shooting them dirty looks.

I walked over to him, "What happened?"

"The teacher said if we don't agree on one prop for everything, then she's going to fail us all."

"So, instead of figuring out which props best fit each request, those two are arguing?" This team was never going to make sense to me.

"Yes, they both want all of their props picked, and they both hate the other's props. So this is how they're handling it." His calm tone was irritating.

"Why aren't you trying to get them to calm down so we can talk about this?"

He shrugged and went back to marking up the request sheet.

The teacher walked in not long after I did, drawn by the noise. "You two can be heard out in the house. What is going on here?"

Both Ravi and Francine started talking at the same time, each one getting slightly louder in an attempt to drown out the other. The teacher finally stopped them. "I'm very disappointed in this team. You have never worked together. You disrupt everyone else with your behavior. I have no choice but to split you four up and give this project to students I can trust." Ravi and Francine started up again, but the teacher calmly touched Ravi's shoulder and sent him to the sets team. Francine was sent to the lighting team. George was allowed to remain with the props team, but he was instructed to what the upperclassmen told him to do. The teacher made it clear she didn't want to hear a peep out of him.

That left me. "I'm really sorry. I tried to help them where I could, but-"

"I know, Lindy. This team was a bad idea from the start, but I was hoping they'd put aside their differences and work together. You're going to the costume team tomorrow. They're in the costume room." I thanked her and left, grateful to finally be free of the warring techies.

==

My academic life was going about as well as could be expected. My social studies team wasn't quite as dysfunctional as the newly-dispersed props team, but there were days when it felt like we were working hard at it. To her credit, Kat was nowhere near as obnoxious as Yoli or Sasha. In fact, she just sat there and agreed with everybody, which was pretty annoying in and of itself. My teammates were trying to figure out how to best divide up the information, and Kat wasn't offering to do any of it. I had a bad feeling that this project wasn't going to help our grade at all.

She finally agreed to help put together the presentation, after much flattery from the guys in the group.

==

Focusing on cleaning up technique in dance class meant that I was having to learn ballet, tap, and jazz at the same time. Angela had me pretty well-grounded in jazz, and now I was starting to work on ballet with her. Tap, on the other hand, was giving me a fit!

Of course, it didn't help that my taps disappeared. Angela had helped me fix them to my shoes during our tutoring session, and I was pretty sure she knew what she was doing. But I pulled on my shoes in the studio that morning, and when I stood up, my shoes were just as quiet as both my jazz boots and my ballet slippers. I looked at the soles, only to find the taps really weren't there at all. Making a mental note to search through my bag for them, I started warming up.

It didn't take long for Ms. Aeling to notice that my shoes weren't making any noise. She looked at me with a murderous glint in her eyes, but she quickly turned away and started the class. I let out a slow breath, guessing Nicola had talked to Ms. Lemert as promised. I wasn't happy about being protected by my friend, but I found I was only too happy to not be spat at by Ms. Aeling.

My happiness was soon stolen. Tap dancing was the hardest of the three for me to pick up just by watching everyone, and Ms. Aeling wasn't about to stop class just to show me how to do everything correctly. Angela was focused on getting me through the basics of ballet, so I knew I was going to lost in the tap classes for a while.

To make matters worse, Yoli and Sasha noticed that I couldn't keep up with the class, and they were making sure I knew what they thought about that. When Ms. Aeling was setting up music, Sasha caught my attention and did a tap dance that looked like a marionette whose puppeteer was drunk. I knew she was trying to show what she thought I looked like. Then after class, Yoli brushed past me, "No-talent hack."

"Really, there's no need for introductions. We've already met," I replied coldly.

She huffed and stormed out, and I started thinking she'd really missed her calling.

==

After a rocky science class with my new lab partner Sasha, I stormed into technical theater class with the hopes of putting the day as far behind me as I could. I walked into the costume room, only to find Miguel and Michael hunched over a notebook. The scene looked familiar and comforting.

Neither noticed me walk in until I threw down my backpack.

"Oh, Lindy!" Miguel looked up from his sketches. "I was wondering who they'd replaced Kaycee with."

"Kaycee was working with you two?"

"Working might be too generous for what she was doing." Michael said quietly.

"Yeah, I had to have her transferred because she was incapable of doing anything so long as Michael was around."

"Or she'd do something really stupid, like trip over a pile of costumes we were trying to sort and mix the costumes all back together. Or drop a load of costumes down the stairs."

"Or rip up that one costume that's been in the collection forever," Miguel wrinkled his nose and looked back at his sketchbook. "This is perfect, really. We can use Lindy for the model!"

"Sounds like a plan," Michael agreed.

Just as Miguel had designed all the sets for the Fall Festival, he had been given the task of designing as many of the costumes as possible for the Spring Gala. He was armed with a stack of notes from the drama, choral, and dance departments, which he was using to start roughing out his designs. "Sorry, Lindy. I'm just not good at drawing people. I need to be able to look at someone."

"That's fine. Just tell me what to do."

I guess my frustration must have leaked into my voice, because Michael looked at me oddly, "Rough morning?"

"Rough day. Does it show?"

"A little bit," he smirked, looking at the notes. "So, which group are you performing with?"

"I'm not." This shocked Michael. "I was cast as an alternate in a stealth audition. Nicola is raising cain about it. So, I'm just focused on getting placed into a good level next year while I try to learn how to dance."

"And the road to promotion is paved with...?" Miguel pulled me to my feet and started posing me.

"Ms. Aeling," I replied glumly.

"How about the two of you? What you guys doing for the Gala?"

Miguel smiled, "I'm singing with a small ensemble. I'm very excited!"

Michael was beaming, overwhelming Miguel's smile. "I won't be here."

"What?" Miguel and I asked. That couldn't be right. How was the drama department going to cope if Michael wasn't here?

His flashing smile turned to a bashful grin, "I got a job. I get to voice a role in a cartoon."

"I'd be embarrassed, too. Aren't you a little old for cartoons?" I needled him.

"No, this is totally cool!" He was starting to get excited again. "I've always been a huge cartoon fan, and now I actually get to work for one!" I'd never seen so much emotion from him offstage. It was hard not to get caught up in his enthusiasm.

"That is cool, man," Miguel agreed. He finished positioning my leg. "Okay, Lindy, I'll try to do this as quickly as I can. Don't move."

"Sounds simple enough." It wasn't that simple, though. It was fairly boring, actually. Then I needed to scratch my nose, but I couldn't move. After several minutes, Miguel changed my pose, and I had to stay still again. By the time he was done with me, I was ready to dance around the room.

Instead, I sat down between the guys and watched Miguel work on the sketches he'd started.

"So, dance class isn't going too well?" Michael asked, watching Miguel across me.

"Actually, it's going fine. I'm kind of having fun. But I'm really worried about this level audition. I just started dancing this semester. There's no way I'm going to be ready to enter the intermediate class next year, and I haven't noticed any upperclassmen in my class."

Michael smiled sympathetically, "Don't even worry about it, Lindy. Angela and Nicola say you've been doing a great job when they've been practicing with you. You'll be promoted, no question."

I wished I had his confidence.

"All right, you're up, Michael."

The actor jumped to his feet and let Miguel pose him. Really, he was perfect. He stood there motionless and dead silent, like a living statue. Miguel quickly sketched the pose, and then re-positioned Michael like a mannequin. Watching them was so surreal, and I wondered what Michael had thought when I was being the model.

Miguel wasn't done with his preliminary sketches when the bell rang, but Michael agreed to stay with him.

I, on the other hand, had to run to my extra math and ballet classes.

==

The week couldn't end fast enough. Ms. Aeling was getting over whatever fear of she had of Ms. Lemert earlier in the week, and was becoming even more critical of my dancing. There were days when I walked out of the studio in near tears. First, my foot was never pointed enough. Then, I was off the music. My arms apparently looked like chicken wings, and I apparently had a slouch that was completely uncorrectable.

I thought it was odd that Angela never mentioned any of these problems when she was working with me. I wasn't sure if that was because the problems didn't exist, or because Angela just didn't notice.

At lunch, Angela and Nicola both assured me that Ms. Aeling was just being cruel and immature, and that I was doing just fine.

"Okay, so the boot-camp sleepover didn't work out last weekend," Angela said. "But I'm pretty sure no one in my house getting sick tomorrow, so why don't we do it then? You girls game?"

"Sure." A weekend with my friends, even if it was spent dancing, sounded like the perfect end to a bad week.

==

Ms. Aeling spent the better part of Friday morning reminding me that I should just leave the dance program because I would never become a dancer. If I had any clue what I wanted to do with my life, I'd have had some biting retort for her. As it was, I just stood there and tried not to let her get to me. I just kept reminding myself that I was going to be spending my weekend with Angela and Nicola, and that little bit was just enough to get me through class.

The week wrapped up in technical theater class with Michael and me coloring in Miguel's designs so he could turn in his sketchbook. We were fairly chatty. It was so much better than how my week in that class started.

"There you are! Why didn't you tell us you switched teams?" Angela appeared in the doorway of the costume room.

"Oh, um...My props team got in trouble, and as punishment, they made me come work with Miguel and Michael."

"Yes, I can see how that would be punishment," Nicola agreed. She looked around the room. "Did you know I've never been in this room before? They always do our fittings in the studio."

"I hadn't been down here, either, until last week," Michael admitted. "Kind of neat, right?"

"I suppose," Nicola responded, her attention already focused away from Michael, who flared slightly at being brushed off.

"What are you guys doing here? Is it time to go?" I was anxious to head any sort of confrontation among my friends.

"Yeah, can you guys not hear the bell down here?" Angela stepped into the hallway, looking for some sign of the school's classical bell.

"It's not that we can't hear it," Miguel explained, "It's that we don't hear it." He took my finished sketches from me, and then took the handful Michael had finished. "We can wrap this up, Lindy. Go on."

"Are you sure?" Miguel smiled, so I picked myself up off the floor and grabbed my backpack. "See you guys Monday."

Angela waved to Miguel before we ran up the stairs.

==

I could only guess how often Angela turned her room into a practice room. Her father helped us move the couches out to the walls without complaint, and then he and Angela's mother headed out for the evening.

"Okay. Let's review." Angela turned on the stereo and led me through a series of jazz exercises that soon gave way to ballet exercises. Nicola watched us for a bit, and then she walked around behind us and watched some more. Occasionally, she told me to lift my chin, to straighten my arms, to straighten my leg. Every once in a while, she would walk over and move me herself if I didn't follow her direction. I was being pulled and pushed again, and I wasn't enjoying it.

Angela's exercises became longer and more complicated and started blending jazz and ballet. They were a lot more fun than the exercises Ms. Aeling gave us. Soon, Angela had us moving across the room, turning and jumping. By the time her CD had ended, I was so tired, but I was laughing. I'd never had so much fun dancing! I threw myself on one of the couches and tried to catch my breath. Angela went to sit beside Nicola, who had seated herself near the door leading from the entryway to the living room.

"What do you think?" Angela asked. At first, I thought she meant me, but I could barely breathe, let alone talk.

"I don't think I'd have believed it if I hadn't seen it," Nicola responded. "Lindy, you're certain you've never taken a dance class in your life?" I nodded. "That is interesting."

Part of me wanted to ask what was so interesting, but they decided to run through their pieces for the Spring Gala. I rolled onto my side and watched them. They were incredible, both of them. So fluid. I felt a bit jealous, knowing I could never dance like that. When they finished, I applauded, and they both bowed. Nicola was smiling brightly, something I'd never seen her do.

"I think it's pizza time," Angela vanished into the kitchen. I chuckled.

Nicola sat in the middle of the floor and started stretching. "Come on, Lindy. You don't want to let your muscles get cold."

"Why not?" I rolled myself off the couch and scooted over to Nicola.

"I think Angela means for us to keep dancing after dinner."

"We can dance after we eat." Nicola laughed, a melodious sound. "Isn't it like swimming? Don't dance for at least an hour after you eat?"

"I wouldn't recommend dancing after drinking a soda, but you can dance after eating."

I shrugged and started following her movements.

Angela joined us after several minutes. "It'll be here in a little bit."

When the bell rang, she got it, and soon the three of us were sitting in the middle of our converted studio. While we ate, Nicola and Angela me about their first years of dancing. Both had started in ballet, and Angela started dancing with her Scottish Highland dancing toward the end of elementary school. Nicola, on the other hand, was a dedicated ballerina until she started attending Broughton, where she'd had to learn to not be graceful and fluid in tap and jazz class. I was amazed to find out Nicola wasn't born dancing in every style.

After dinner, they both took an opportunity to show me their favorite style of dance. Angela's was much like the exercises she'd run me through, a blend of jazz and ballet. Nicola did a straight ballet piece to a song off the radio. I didn't even realize ballet could be danced to anything that wasn't classical.

Then, they pulled me to my feet, and Angela had me dance the pieces she'd taught me with her. Nicola watched again, moving me a lot less than she did earlier.

"Give her the ballet piece," Nicola's voice was full of a surprised admiration.

Angela nodded and started teaching me the fluid dance they had rehearsed right before dinner. It was much easier than it looked, and soon I was dancing most of it with Angela.

"Not bad, huh?" Angela turned to Nicola.

"No. Not bad at all."

I was so tired that I dropped onto a couch while they talked, and was soon fast asleep.

==

The next morning, Angela ran me through more exercises, and then made me practice every dance she had taught me. By lunch time, I couldn't feel my legs any more.

Lunch was finger sandwiches out on the deck behind the house.

"Nicola, have you had a chance to talk to Ms. Lemert yet? If she's dancing like this, we can't let Ms. Aeling keep kicking her around."

"I mentioned to her that some of the freshmen were left out of the performance, but she's been so busy with next month that I don't think she's had the time to really look into it."

"What's next month?" I asked between bites.

"Oh, there's this series the professors do," Nicola explained. "What about you? Any plans for your arch-nemesis?"

"Oh, yeah. I know exactly what I'm doing to get even with Yoli!"

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Angela grinned impishly. "It's better if you don't know, Lindy."

==

Monday morning came far too quickly. I nearly fell asleep in Dad's office while waiting for class to start, and then I was nearly late to social studies. I made it in just before the bell, and Angela was just a few steps behind me.

She grinned at me on her way to her group, and my feet dragged the entire way to my seat. My group was sitting there working quietly, so I pulled out my section of the report and got to working on it. Kat looked like she was trying to sketch out the presentation, but every time I looked at her, she was looking toward the group Yoli and Sasha had both been assigned to. She had no idea how to function without her friends. I felt sorry for her.

As I headed out the door at the end of class, Angela grabbed my arm. "Remember everything I told you this weekend." I nodded, and she grinned and ran past me.

I changed quickly and made it into the studio ahead of most of my classmates. I found a nice spot at the barre and started warming up. Others soon came in. Right before class, Yoli marched into the studio, screaming.

"Miss Maldonado, please keep your voice to a civil tone inside the studio." It was nice to see Yoli in trouble with Ms. Aeling for something.

"You!" She pointed at me as she screeched. "What did you do with my shoes?"

"What?" I slowly turned, utterly confused.

"My shoes! These aren't mine. They're too small for my feet! I know you did something!" She was shaking the shoes in my face, and I couldn't back away with the barre already pressing into my back.

"Yoli, maybe your feet grew." This just made the Duck even angrier. "Besides, why would you think I messed with your shoes? I've been in the studio."

Yoli wasn't a complete idiot. She realized that I was all but forcing her to admit she'd stolen my jazz boots. Her face turned a flaming red as she shook the shoes in my face one last time before grabbing her Ducks and leaving the studio. I noticed the shoes had a tiny "AM" handwritten on them, and had to stifle a laugh.

Ms. Aeling quickly took her face. "What did you do, Miss Stanton?"

"I didn't do anything. You know I've been in here warming up. I couldn't have done anything."

"We do not tolerate stealing, or whatever it is you did to Miss Maldonado. If I catch you doing anything like this again, I'll personally see you expelled from Broughton. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, and you'd be even more clear if I had actually been the one to mess with Yoli's shoes," I retorted.

"Why you-," her face nearly matched Yoli's. "Maybe you should go talk to Dr. Birchard about your behavior in this school."

"Fine by me." I left the studio and quickly changed back to my street clothes. I'd thought for sure that Yoli would mess with my stuff in a revenge that only existed in her mind, but was relieved to see she had just grabbed her own bag and left for somewhere else.

As I pulled my hair out of its bun, I realized that I really didn't need all of this getting back to my father, and going to Dr. Birchard would lead to a conversation I didn't want to have on the way home, especially since I was pretty certain I knew what had happened. So I grabbed my backpack and hid out under my tree until the lunch bell rang.

==

At lunch, I couldn't decide whether to sound amused or angry when I confronted Angela about the shoes. I finally settled for something in between. "It was you, wasn't it?" I asked quietly, just in case anyone was listening.

"Was what me?"

"Yoli's shoes. You swapped them with little shoes." She grinned. "Your initials were on the shoes," Angela laughed at that, "and I got in trouble for them."

"Oh, no. Lindy, I'm sorry! I should have seen that coming. It was pretty funny, though, right?"

"It was great, actually. She left class and took Sasha and Kat with her." Angela burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Nicola asked as she joined us, but Angela just laughed harder.

==

As dance class became more of a chore between Ms. Aeling constantly attacking me and Yoli looking for ways to literally trip me up in class, my academic classes started becoming easier. Thanks to Angela's terrific tutoring, my grades were finally high enough that I wasn't in danger of being kept out of performances because of academics. Even better, the group project wrapped up in social studies, ridding me of Kat. I still had to work with Sasha in science class, though. In some ways, though, that was more painful than group work. Sasha refused to let me perform any part of the experiment.

"You'll just screw it up, or worse, steal the supplies." In a public school, I might have picked up one of the test tubes and poured its contents out on her head. At Broughton, though, I just had to suffer through it.

==

By the end of January, posters started showing up around the dressing room for summer dance programs at various colleges and dance companies. Most of the girls were very excited, planning out which ones they were going to audition for, determining what they needed for those auditions. I couldn't imagine willingly giving up my summer to dancing. I didn't even realize that there were people who would, except for maybe the scary intense girls.

The Ducks were discussing their summer plans not too far from where Nicola and I still shared a locker. Yoli was bragging to her friends, and anyone elose who would listen, about being an alum of some program with a funnier name than even the strangest named programs on the poster.

Nicola snorted. "I assume you'll be moving up to larger and better programs this year, now that you're a Broughton student."

Yoli turned fifteen shades of red. "Why should I when I am the top dancer at my program?" She snatched up her jazz boots and all but ran to the main studio.

"Does it really matter where you do these summer dance programs?" I asked.

"It depends on your goals. The girls who want to dance professionally go to certain programs. The girls who just want to get better go to other programs."

"Is Yoli's camp one of those for girls who want to get better?"

"Actually, I've never heard of it. I suspect she's made it up. That one couldn't get into a serioius summer dance program if she wanted. She'll be stuck here in Broughton's program this summer, mark my words."

"Broughton has a summer program?" That didn't sound particularly fun. To be stuck in school year-round, especially with Yoli? I could think of a dozen better ways to spend my summer.

"Yes, they run it for the girls who can't go away for whatever reason. Most of the girls who stay are here because they got rejected from all of the programs they auditioned for."

"That's terrible."

"It's better than falling out of shape over the summer," Nicola chided. I could tell from the tone of her voice that she expected me to be in that program next summer.

==

At lunch, Angela, Nicola, and I couldn't stop talking about summer dance programs, much to the amusement of the guys.

"I'm so excited," Angela started. "I've been invited to audition for an apprenticeship with a dance company in Scotland! I'd be studying Scottish Highland dancing in Scotland!"

"Will you also be staying up on your ballet?" Nicola asked.

Angela nodded, "There's a ballet school not too far away. My Scottish Highland teacher says I'm really going to enjoy it! She's the one who set this up for me!"

"When do you audition?" I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answer. If she auditioned and got the position, she'd be in Scotland for a couple of months. It was pretty selfish of me, but I didn't want to think about going so long without seeing her.

"In a couple of weeks. I'm pretty nervous, but I'm so happy!" She bounced in her seat. "How about you, Nicola? Are you headed back to New York?"

"I haven't decided yet. I auditioned for some of the hardest programs in the country this year, but two of them were fairly easy."

"Why is that?" I asked.

"I've attended both programs and was invited to audition for them again. They're both pretty nice, too, but I think I might want to see what other programs have to offer."

That's when it hit me: I was going to be alone this summer. The program in Scotland would be crazy not to take Angela, and NIcola would likely be accepted into any program she auditioned for. I would be stuck here for a couple of months...with the Ducks. I wasn't amused.

"I think I might find a nice summer league," I mused out loud. It had a nice ring to it. I'd get to take a break from dancing. I'd get to spend some time outside in the sub, something I never got to do any more thanks to crazy schedules and catching up on ten years of not dancing. In the back of my mind, I missed soccer whenever I thought about it, but I'd never had a chance to hang up any of my soccer pictures in my room, so I rarely thought about it.

"Lindy, I think you should do the summer program here at Broughton," Nicola confirmed what I thought earlier. "You've come so far this semester. You don't want to lose that by not dancing for a couple of months."

"Isn't dancing like riding a bike? You get the skills, and it all stays with you?"

"You may remember the technique, but you'll lose any flexibility you've gained." I could tell this was quite important to Nicola.

"And you won't have us here to push you on your days off," Angela added. "Even worse, Yoli will become better than you." That last part might have inspired me if I had ever measured myself against Yoli and her Ducks.

Nicola seemed similarly impressed, "Don't get your hopes up, Angela. Yoli has a long way to go before she catches up with our girl."

I giggled at that, mostly out of embarrassment.

I didn't want to give up my summer. I didn't want to get sucked into the dancing world all year. I wanted a normal teenager's life.