Ceara's Notebook

Natural Talent, Book One, Day Nine

Wed, 14 Nov 2007 04:35:42 GMT

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Natural Talent, Volume 1
Subtitle: No-Talent Nobody</p> After the Spring Gala, my dance classes became even more intensive. Ms. Aeling doubled the length of our after-school rehearsals, convinced that we would never be ready in time for the Recital or our auditions. By the time I got lunch, my body felt like it was packed in ice, and I couldn't stop shaking. Nicola and Angela assured me this was normal and I'd eventually become strong enough to not suffer from either, but I was pretty sure they were pulling my leg.

In technical theater class, we were allowed to work on whatever team we wanted for the Seniors Performance and the Recital. Miguel, Michael, and I took over the set design team again. By the time I found the guys on the stage, Miguel was already sifting through the department notes and working out his designs. Michael watched him, but there was a funny look on his face. It reminded me of the look on my own face as I washed my face after returning from Milhouse. Miguel didn't notice either one of us as he flipped back and forth in his sketchbook to add more detail to each set.

Michael dragged me over to the edge of the stage and dangled his legs into the orchestra pit. I sat beside him with my legs crossed, still mindful of my old violin ensemble's threat. "Is it just me, or is this nowhere near as fun as it was at the beginning of the year?"

"Why do you say that?" I hadn't noticed anything different, but I didn't know all the ins and outs around here, either.

"Maybe it's just me, then. I just think it's hard to work with Miguel right now." I looked over at the artist, hard at work on more sketches, and I couldn't understand why Michael was having trouble with Miguel, until I realized he wasn't having trouble with Miguel. He was having trouble with Miguel leaving. "It's going to be weird not working with him next year, not watching him turn out an entire performance's worth of sketches in an afternoon. I won't get to help turn his sketches into real sets."

"Yeah, it will be, but he's too good to not be at Milhouse. It's selfish of us to want to keep him here." I surprised myself by blurting out the feeling I'd been wrestling with.

Michael gave me that great big brother smile that I was starting to think he reserved just for me. "It is...but I guess we'll muddle through somehow."

"Does this mean you're going to take technical theater next year?" I asked hopefully.

He shook his head. "This has been a blast. It makes things a lot easier on an actor if he knows what's going on and why. It makes us question fewer things becasue we understand why things haver to be the way they are."

"But...?"

"But I may not have an elective spot open for it again."

My heart broke. Technical theater was my secondary track, so I'd be in this class regardless. But I was slowly realizing that I'd have to face it next year without the two people who'd made it so much fun for me. I guess i lost control of my emotions because Michael wiped away a tear I didn't realize had escaped. "It's going to be okay, Lindy. We'll see Miguel at First Fridays, and I'll still be sitting with you guys at lunch. Everything will be fine, you'll see.

I could see the logic in what Michael was saying, but...

"It won't be the same," he finished my unspoken thought for me. "But if things were always the same, we'd get bored, and nothing would ever get done."

"Hey, guys, come check these out!" Miguel had his sketches finished to the point where he was willing to share them with us.

Michael half-smiled at me, "Think you can handle this?"

I had some of my bravado back in place, "I don't know. Can you?" He pulled me to my feet and we walked back over to MIguel.

There were far fewer sets required for the two performances, and Miguel had taken the opportunity to focus on details. The sketches were simple, but still wonderful. "What do you guys think?"

I didn't know what I thought about his designs, but I was pretty sure I knew that I was going to miss him fiercely next year.

The insufferably shy Michael stepped aside for his more confident side, "These are great, Miguel! I look forward to performing in the recital."

Miguel blushed at the compliment.

==

Ms. Lemert took over the freshman dance class shortly after the Spring Gala so that Ms. Aeling could focus on the seniors in the advanced class who were trying to put together their jazz piece. I was finally catching on to the tap dance, thanks to Angela. Life as a dancer in training was nearly perfect.

During our rehearsal break one morning, Ms. Lemert pulled me aside, "I wanted to talk to you about the recital, Lindy dear."

My mouth went dry. Whenever Ms. Aeling was about to throw me out of class or a performance, this was exactly how the conversation started...and now Ms. Lemert was starting like that with me. I was certain that somehow I was getting kicked out of the End of Year Recital. Except Ms. Lemert had the kindness to do it in private, unlike Ms. Aeling who delighted in kicking me around in public.

"Your father and I have been talking."

Great, just what I needed. Ms. Lemert had told my father she was kicking me out of the recital! Maybe they were talking about inviting me to not come back to Broughton next year. As a performer, I really didn't belong here, but all of my friends were here. I didn't want to leave!

"We thought it might be nice to have the two of you perform a piece together in the recital. What do you think?"

My world came to a grinding halt. This wasn't at all what I was expecting.

"My father?"

"Yes, he'll play his violin. You'll dance. It will be quite the performance!" I could tell from the tone of her voice that Ms. Lemert was quite pleased with her plan. I'm sure my father thought it was a wonderful idea, too. But I'd spent most of my life as Matthew Stanton's daughter, and I'd spent the last couple of months as his privileged daughter. I really didn't need the entire school seeing us perform together when I'd just heard an ugly rumor floating around the school that suggested I might be some sort of talented dancer. It would be the end of my hope for anything resembling a normal life at Broughton.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Lemert, but I just can't."

"Why not, dear?"

"My father is one of the best violinists in the country. You can't ask me to put one semester of dance training next to that." It sounded like a reasonable excuse.

"Lindy, you may not understand this, but you are a natural dancer. You're far more skilled than most of your classmates. In fact, much of what you bring to your dancing puts quite a few members of the intermediate class to shame. You are good, and need to accept that." I blushed, taken aback by her directness. "Now, I think showing off your gift next to your father's would be a wonderful way to show off what the school inherited when the Stantons got here, but ultimately the choice is yours." She walked back toward the center of the room to get rehearsal started.

Glaring at the floor, I slinked back to rehearsal. I didn't want to do a performance with my father. I wasn't going to let my favorite teacher compliment me into, either, even if I was feeling completely flattered at the moment.

==

To her credit, Ms. Lemert didn't ask about the joint performance with my father again. She really did leave the decision to me.

My parents were an entirely different story. Dad tried to talk me into the piece at every single meal. Mom begged me to do it, just to make my father happy. Every time I passed my father's office, he was practicing. He'd notice me walk by and ask what i thought of the piece. I'd just walk on upstairs and slam the door to my room.

I understood that it meant a lot to my father, but he had no idea what he was asking.

==

My father was still trying to talk me into the joint performance when we got to school Monday morning. I was far too happy to escape him and race for my social studies class, where we were trying to put together a debate on the teacher's very unclear topic.

I lingered a bit too long in the dressing room before freshman dance. Angela was just finishing sewing a new ribbon onto her pointe shoe when I headed for the door. "Hey, wait up. I'll walk with you."

We walked silently the short distance to the large studio where the freshman practiced. Angela gave me a concerned look for a moment before she headed on; I just shrugged it off and headed into the studio.

At lunch, I sullenly stabbed at my salad, spearing a poor, defenseless radish. Joe sat down beside me, "Did it do something to offend you? Should I fear for my safety?"

"No," I half-chuckled at his tone.

"Would you like to talk about it?" He offered. I shook my head. "Let me guess," he continued anyway, "either something has happened in dance class, or your dad has done something. Am I close?" I speared the radish again, hitting it with suck force that the fork tines rang off the plate. "Okay, who was it?"

"Both," I mumbled.

"Both? How does that work?"

I put the poor radish out of its memory and bit it in half. "Ms. Lemert and my father want me to do a joint performance with him at the recital."

Joe nodded, "The famous performer and his talented offspring."

"Yeah."

"It's not like you can say no, Lindy. At least...I never could." He chuckled.

"I shouldn't be here at all! And I shouldn't be anywhere near my father when he's on stage." I had to fight to keep from shouting.

"Why not? Angela says you do pretty well in rehearsal."

My friends were now talking about me behind my back. It occurred to me that Angela could have been the one spreading the vicious rumor about my dancing abilities. "Because he's Matthew Stanton, and I'm just Lindy."

Joe poked my nose, "You aren't 'just Lindy'. You don't know it, but Michael and I stop by sometimes to watch the dance department rehearse after school." I blushed and felt the need to get away. I think Joe sensed that, because he covered my hand firmly. "Angela is right. You really do a great job of keeping up with everyone. I think you're even better than those stupid Ducks." I started to protest, but his free hand landed one finger on my lips. "Maybe you should seriously consider performing with your father. I know I'd love to see that piece."

I blushed again, but Joe had turned back to his sandwich. Soon, the others were filling up the table, and I sat there in a sullen silence while Joe was his normal jovial self.

=

By mid-April, most of my classmates had heard back from the summer programs they had auditioned for. The air in the dressing room was stuffy over the next week as everyone got their acceptance and rejection letters.

Angela landed her internship and was frantically trying to take care of her paperwork and her passport. She was so excited that she would randomly break into a fling when we were working on the tap piece for the recital.

Nicola received acceptance letters from every program she auditioned for. She kept them neatly folded in her binder, and pulled them out during lunch. "I think I'm going to do this one again." She handed me her acceptance letter from one of the New York programs that had invited her to audition again. "It was a great program last year. Good people. Challenging work." She grinned, "Plus Daniil is participating in a workshop there this summer! He's promised to take me on a tour of his favorite places in the city."

"Wow! He must be really familiar with New York," I was impressed.

"He spent a lot of time there on this tour he just got home from, and spends most of his summers there," Nicola explained. "It should be a lot of fun!"

I noticed that amid the cheering and crying girls, Yoli and Sasha were doing neither. Kat, on the other hand, was bouncing between quite happy when her friends weren't around and somber when they were. It quickly got out that Yoli and Sasha had both been rejected from the two programs they'd auditioned for, neither of which was the program Yoli bragged about studying with during past summers. Kat had been accepted to a top program in the midwest, and Yoli had torn up her acceptance letter and forbidden her to go. Like a good little lemming, Kat had agreed and was now heartbroken over the decision.

==

My academic classes were nearly forgotten in all the running around that had become technical theater class and the nearly twenty hours of rehearsal I was stuck in every single week. I was pretty sure that the only thing keeping my grade above passing in either class was the fact that Angela wouldn't let me skip out on tutoring, no matter how late it was, no matter how tired we were. I hated her for it every night, and loved her for it the next morning when I was able to turn in my homework.

The last week of April was crazy as the technical theater class worked tirelessly to make sure everything was perfect for the seniors. My days ran long between school, after school rehearsals, and tech rehearsals.

My favorite part of the rehearsals was a pair of pianists, both very talented. They played a piece together that evolved into a duel between the pianists. It was absolutely incredible! The two left the stage together after every rehearsal, laughing and talking about what each one brought to the duel. I could tell they were going to miss each other after they graduated.

One night, I was moving props between the various tables and trying to help the stage crew when I noticed Nicola watching the pianists from the wings.

"They're pretty good, right?" I whispered.

She jumped, startled by my sudden appearance. "Yes. But he always has been."

"'He'?" Both seniors were still on stage, so I wasn't sure which one she meant. They looked so similar- only slightly different heights, nearly identical builds, blond hair.

"My brother," her pride shone through her voice. The two had just finished practicing and were headed off-stage. "Come on, I'll introduce you."

She didn't even have to stop them. The taller of the two guys swept her up in a hug, "How are you, little sister?"

"Just fine." He was hugging her so tightly she had to whisper her response. "Put me down. I want to introduce you to someone."

"Is she cute?" he asked as he set her down. I'd always thought of Nicola as tall, but next to her brother, she seemed tiny. She spun around to face me. "Ooh, I hope this is the person you want me to meet, because she is cute!"

He reminded me of Joe, only he was more direct.

"Please excuse him. He's a bit of a dork. Lindy, this is my brother Daniil. Daniil, this is my friend Lindy."

He took my hand. "Pleased to meet you." I wondered if I was expected to curtsy, respond, or perform some combination of the two.

His friend rushed past us, "I have to get to my practical. Catch you later, man!" Daniil waved.

"How does it feel to be back in school after being away on tour?" I was amazed at myself for even being able to get out a coherent sentence, much less a relevant one.

"It's great! No demanding timetable. I can play for fun. And I get to do things I enjoy during my free time."

"Oh?" I asked, "Like what?"

"Like asking pretty girls to the Spring Formal." Nicola slapped his arm. "What, does she have a date already? A boyfriend! I bet she has a boyfriend. Cute girls always have a boyfriend!"

Nicola rolled her eyes, "Thanks."

"I didn't mean it like that. Boys aren't allowed to like you, because then I'll have to find some thugs to rough them up. My sister's too good for any of the guys on this planet."

"Nice save," Nicola replied sharply.

"So, anyway, does the pretty girl have a reason she can't go to the Spring Formal with a senior newly returned from a whirlwind tour of the country?" I shook my head. "Great! We'll go with Nicola and her date, so I'll let you two arrange all the details." He smiled, a dazzling display that put Michael's best smile to shame, and walked out of the stage area.

"Lindy, I'm so sorry." Nicola apologized. "I never really know what he's going to do next."

"No, it's fine, really." I had a handsome, friendly date for the Spring Formal who wasn't a close friend. As far as I was concerned, this was a step in the right direction.

"I honestly figured Joe would have asked you by now, anyway. He seems to enjoy your company a little too much."

"I keep trying to tell you, Nicola. It's not like that at all!" I knew Joe Langford had no interest in me as a girlfriend. As near as I could tell, he was having so much fun chasing girls that I was positive he'd fall apart trying to figure out what to do with one if he caught her.

"If you say so, Lindy," Nicola walked off in the direction her brother had left.

I finished putting away the props and headed out for the night myself.

==

The Senior Performance was a one-night show. The majority of the seniors performed in groups of varying numbers, with only a few of them giving solo performances. They were absolutely fantastic! I could see why so many kids wanted to come to Broughton, just to become one of these well-trained, polished performers.

Daniil and his best friend were the highlight of the Senior Performance. From my perch backstage, I could see quite a bit of the audience on their feet after the two were finished. There was a lot of clapping and whistling from the seniors and tech crew backstage. It was thunderous.

After the show, the Brinkovs invited us all to a dinner to celebrate Daniil's final performance as a Broughton student and to welcome him home from his tour. We ate and laughed and talked all the way through to morning before we all crashed out in Nicola and Daniil's living room.

==

May assaulted Broughton with its warm breezes and bright sun. I wished the studios and theater had windows so I could stare out them.

Dance classes had us alternating between Ms. Aeling for jazz and tap, and Ms. Lemert for ballet.

Ms. Aeling was completely vicious when she caught me daydreaming. "Miss Stanton, you need to turn out." She poked me with a stick that had recently appeared in the studio, presumably for the sheer purpose of torturing me further. Angela and I finally decided that she brought in the stick as a last resort to try to drive me from the dance program, much like one would rive cattle to market. Our analogy almost worked, too, if it weren't for the fact that cattle are wanted.

I didn't let Ms. Aeling or her stick deter me.

Ms. Lemert made a few more attempts to persuade me to perform with my father in the recital, but I wouldn't budge. While I was slowly making my peace with being Matthew Stanton's daughter, even if I wouldn't admit it, I really wasn't ready to be presented to the local performing arts scene as Matthew Stanton's brilliant daughter.

Ballet was the harder class now that I was more comfortable with jazz and tap. Every attempt at a brise made me question the idea that I was some dancing genius. As I nearly fell out of a simple double pirouette I'd done several dozen times, IO was sure I wasn't good enough to perform alongside my father.

Ms. Lemert smiled gently at me as I stormed toward the nearest barre, "Lindy dear, remember to pull up on the opposite side."

I tried not to growl. I knew that I hadn't been holding my core at all through that turn. I didn't need to be reminded.

"Looks like Daddy's little princess isn't as good as she thinks she is," Sasha taunted from not too far away.

"That would be an accomplishment," I replied. "I don't think I'm any good at this at all."

"I'm sure that's not what you told Daniil Brinkov to get him to take you to the Spring Formal."

I looked at her in surprise. "How did you know about-"

"About the princess going to the ball with a senior? This school is too small to keep any secrets." Sasha snorted, and the sound reminded me of a pig. "Maybe we'll have to let it drop how badly you dance, and we'll see if you still have a date."

"Sasha, why aren't you with your group?" Ms. Lemert had stopped the music. Sasha shot me a dirty look and took her place in a group that contained the other Ducks.

I reminded myself to not let Sasha get to me, but with the morning I was having, that was proving to be very difficult.

==

The next afternoon, Angela and I met Nicola at her house to prepare for the Spring Formal. We helped each other with hair and jewelry. Angela insisted on doing my make-up, which was fine with me. It hadn't occurred to me to wear make-up before because of soccer. It was just too inconvenient to put it on, only to have to wipe it off before practice and put it on again after practice.

Now, it seemed expected. I wasn't sure if that was because I was in high school, or because I was in a performing arts high school.

We ate a light dinner with Daniil before everyone changed into their formal clothes. Nicola and her brother both looked so regal, so distinguished. I felt rather frumpy as Daniil carefully pinned a pink carnation to my pink dress before offering me his arm as the four of us headed out to pick up Miguel.

Daniil was perhaps the best date I'd had all year. He came off as arrogant and moody around other people, but it turned out that he was actually as down to earth as Nicola. He opened my door. He talked with everyone, so i got to meet more people in the instrumental departments. Most of them thought it was fabulous that I was Matthew Stanton's daughter, and an uncomfortably high number of them had heard the rumor that my father and I would be performing together in the recital. I assured them all it was just a rumor, and I would only be performing with the dance department. Many of them seemed disappointed by this.

When we finally joined everyone at the table after a few enjoyable dances, he pulled out my chair for me. I felt like a princess, right up until I looked at Nicola. She sat by herself, so prim and proper, smiling and laughing as she, Angela, and Miguel talked. I felt sorry for her because she came to the dance alone, even though I knew it was by her own choice, but I also envied how easily she seemed to not mind that she had turned down every invitation to be escorted to the ball.

Not long after Daniil and I sat down, Michael and Joe joined us for a little bit. They chatted with us until their dates caught up with them, and then they were whisked away. Any time they could ditch their dates, they were right back at the table with us. I felt sorrier for them every time they left our table.

As the guys dropped into their seats at the table at one point, Daniil offered to dance with his sister, leaving me with the guys. Both had just nearly escaped their dates one more point.

Joe's head hit the table as Kat wandered off with Yoli and Sasha. He'd had a very hard time finding a date, leaving him little room to refuse Kat when she asked him to the Formal. Every time Daniil and I had seen them together throughout the evening, Kat was rambling about either Yoli or Michael. Joe, at least, was great at smiling politely and throwing random one word comments into the conversation, but I knew the whole thing had to be taxing him. Somehow, he always seemed to end up at these functions with one of Michael's fan girls.

Not that Michael had fared any better. One of the senior drama girls has asked him to the Formal, and he felt it would have been rude to refuse her when he didn't have any plans. She spent much of the evening wearing Michael like a piece of jewelry and telling anyone who would listen about how wonderful life would be at college next year. She apparently had already auditioned with one of the school's performing groups, and expected to be their starlet by October. Too much a gentleman to actually attempt to intrude on the diva's moment, Michael had weathered it all with his normal stony expression.

The only ones left at the table, the three of us sat in silence, although I imagined both were grateful not to be besieged by a chatty girl.

Joe finally decided it was too quiet, "You seem to be having fun with Nicola's brother this evening, Lindy."

"Yes, he's a great guy. I think I'm actually going to be sad to see him graduate.

"You barely know him," Michael growled.

"I know, but i wish I'd had the chance to get to know him before tonight." Joe smiled softly, but Michael looked away.

"Yeah, living the touring life has got to be rough," Joe ignored his best friend. "I hear he's decided not to go on to college. Some symphony offered him a position."

Neither Daniil nor Nicola had mentioned that to ma. "Really? He must be thrilled."

"It's pretty cool. If someone offered me the chance to play my guitar rather than go to college, I'd probably seriously consider it, too. There's a lot you can learn from actually being in the business that no college can ever hope to teach you."

I didn't really know what my plans were for life after high school, but I was pretty sure they involved college somehow. It just seemed foolish not to go.

"You know that college Krissa is bragging about getting into?" Michael suddenly interrupted our conversation. "It's not even a respected program. She's such a diva that it was the best she could get." His description of his date reminded me of Yoli. Joe chuckled, and Michael lapsed back into silence.

"I guess we both really struck out tonight, man." Michael didn't find Joe's observation nearly as funny as he did. "It's really my own fault. I should have just screwed up my courage and asked out the person I really wanted to come with."

"You managed to not ask out a girl? I'm certain that's the first time that's ever happened," Nicola seated herself next to Daniil, whoi was just taking his place in the chair next to mine.

Joe blushed. "She's not the easiest girl to approach."

"You mean you were honestly scared of a girl turning you down?" I shared Nicola's disbelief.

He just nodded.

"So who was she? An impossibly talented junior in the instrumental department?" Nicola needled him.

"Actually, she's an impossibly talented sophomore in the dance department," he admitted.

Nicola's eyes widened. "Well, all you had to do was ask. She might have surprised you."

"After warning one of her best friends away from me? I'm not so sure about that."

"If you weren't such a flirt, she might not have felt the need to warn her friend about you."

By this point, even I'd figured out who Joe had wanted to invite to the Formal, and Daniil, Michael, and I were all laughing at what had happened.

Angela and Miguel, breathless from spending nearly the entire evening dancing together, rejoined us. "What's so funny?" Angela asked.

We all started laughing even harder, leaving both of them very baffled.

==

The end of the school year brought many things. The recital was drawing near quickly. Every moment not spent in rehearsal was spent studying for my final exams in science and social studies. The one thing I couldn't have accounted for, or even imagined, was that both my dance class and my technical theater class had final exams, too. The dance final was my level audition. We spent a week in Master Class mode, jumping between ballet, tap, and jazz. On Friday, we were allowed to play games, my favorite of which was this incredible game where some of us were statues, and everyone dance in between us, occasionally changing our pose. Ms. Aeling and Ms. Lemert watched us and continued to write on their clipboards.

After class, Ms. Lemert approached me. "I notice you didn't audition for any summer programs, Lindy dear?" I shook my head. "You will, of course, study here during the summer, then."

I knew Nicola really wanted me to do that, but I hadn't really thought about it over the past month. "Um...okay."

Ms. Lemert smiled, "Excellent. We'll have you in fine shape for next year!"

I chuckled to myself. A summer studying dance with Ms. Lemert. It actually sounded like fun.

==

The recital fell right at the end of finals week. As I'd hoped, I managed to get out of performing with my father during the recital. It was a good thing, too. My night was crazy between performing three dances and being a part of the stage crew. Everything went beautifully, though. Even Yoli seemed to almost genuinely smile at the thought of the school coming to a close.

After the show, we all gathered together on the stairs that led to the audience. It seemed like everyone was going somewhere for the summer, except me. Angela made sure to collect everyone's email addresses and cell phone numbers so she could keep in touch with us from Scotland.

Miguel kept grinning mischievously as the conversation moved from the summer on to random topics.

Angela couldn't stand it any more. "Why do you keep smiling like that? Are you so glad you're getting away from Broughton?"

He laughed and shook his head. "Nope."

"Why not?" I asked. "I thought you were excited to go to Milhouse."

"I was," he admitted, "until I saw what I could do here." We all stared at him, unsure we'd heard him correctly. "I decided that I really enjoyed being able to design sets and costumes, to watch them come to life." His smile widened. "I'm coming back to Broughton!"

Angela nearly knocked him up a step as she tackled him, and I think we all shared her sentiment.

Miguel was coming back to Broughton. I was excited to spend my summer studying dance. Somehow, we were both in the right place, and we knew it.

"Lindy? Lindy, are you back here?" My father's voice filled the hallway above the stairs.

"I guess that's my cue," I gathered my belongings and headed back up the stairs.

"Anime marathon, this weekend," Michael called after me. As a celebration of surviving the school year, and as a last chance to all be together before the summer, Michael was having everyone over to subject us to his anime. He was convinced we'd have fun. We all thought he was nuts, even Joe.

"Sure," I called back as I ran backstage.

My father was on the stage when I found him. "Oh, there you are."

"Yeah, I just ahd to say goodbye to the gang."

He smiled at that, and then looked out over the now-empty house. "So, what do you think, Lindy Lee? Willing to come back?"

"I think I have to. Ms. Lemert enrolled me in the summer ballet program." A slight grin crept into my father's features. "And this is where my friends are."

He took my dance bag and wrapped an arm around my shoulder in a big hug.

I couldn't tell him, but I knew I wouldn't give up being at Broughton for anything!

Next year was going to be fun!

Natural Talent, Book One, Day Nine

Mon, 12 Nov 2007 02:50:51 GMT

(Day's Word Count: 45,000)

The costume team was spending the week digging through the costume collection in the hopes of finding pieces that were similar enough to Miguel's drawings to keep us from having to make those costumes. It turned out the room I found the guys in when I was transferred to the team was just one of many costume storage rooms, and there was no organization whatsoever for the costumes in the other rooms. Most of them were doing well to be stored in something other than a heap on the floor.

Michael and I started sorting out one of the piles, trying to put away the more delicate articles of clothing, but we soon gave up when we realized how futile it was. Kaycee ran in, squeaked something, and waved us to follow her. Michael's face clouded. Working with Kaycee at all really seemed to wear his nerves.

In the next room, a senior was directing the search. Clothes were piled all over the place in this room, and it was a miracle anyone could find anything. When Michael and I walked in, the senior asked for our names, and Michael muttered his. I looked at him in surprise. The senior then tried to tell us where to go work, but Michael's eyes were fixed on the floor. Thankfully, I found Miguel working on one pile and dragged Michael over with me. Despite the fact it was only the three of us, Michael wouldn't say a word, and occasionally looked around at everyone else.

I stared at him for several moments after he simply nodded in response to Miguel's question. Past conversations with Angela played through my head. "Wow. You really are shy, aren't you?"

Michael's head snapped up, surprise sharpening his features for a moment, and then he nodded. "When I get on stage or behind a microphone, I can put up some bravado. I play this role in my head so that I won't run. I love acting, but it's really hard sometimes for me to be the guy everyone expects me to be." He sat down beside the pile we were working on. "When I'm off the stage, I want to be myself, and I'm shy. Really shy." He looked toward the hallway that led to the stairs up to the stage. "Joe has been my best friend since we were kids. We started hanging out because we were both shy kids who could do something artistic. Joe figured out how to live with his shyness, and I figured out how to use Joe as a shield against the people who scare me."

Miguel and I looked at each other, amazed. Neither of us has suspected Michael's issues ran so deep because he'd nearly always been fairly relaxed around the two of us.

We settled into a more comfortable silence and worked our way through the pieces in the pile. I thought about what Michael said and realized that I kind of felt the same way, except I was scared by the people in the performing arts. Strangely though, I knew that I wanted to fit into that world, to be part of the same alternate reality my father spent so much of his time living in. I promised myself that I would start trying harder to actually fit in at Broughton, and into its weird alternate universe.

That's when it hit me that I would actually have to seriously consider enrolling in Broughton's summer dance program.

==

It was early February. The snow made the front steps of Broughton a slippery death trap. Most of my classmates had auditioned for their summer programs, including the Ducks. Every day in the locker room, everyone rolled their eyes and tuned out Yoli while she bragged about being practically accepted on the spot back into her old program.

"I looked up that program," Nicola whispered. "The program stopped running five years ago. The company closed because of financial issues." Angela laughed. Yoli heard her and glared at us.

"Think she's realized we're talking about her?" Angela had to catch her breath.

I giggled hollowly. As much as I was enjoying my dance classes, I hated going to class. The only positive thing about class was that Ms. Aeling was criticizing me less. I could only hope that meant she had just taken to ignoring me.

When I walked into class, Ms. Aeling stood by the stereo organizing the CDs and watching us walk in to begin warming up. Nicola had given me a new set of exercises to help me become more limber, and while they were hard, I was already feeling how useful they were.

Class began, and I tried to enjoy it rather than worry about what Ms. Aeling was going to say to me next. We moved quickly through the few barre exercises and came center, but Ms. Aeling asked us to sit down. So far this semester, nothing good had come from Ms. Aeling asking us to sit, so I sat there mentally preparing myself to leave class, either by her choice or my own.

"Ladies, the End of the Year Recital is coming up quickly, and we're going to start working on our pieces now. You will be expected to learn and perform three pieces." I knew I hadn't heard that right. The Spring Gala was over a month away. We were working on preparing for our level auditions, and now we had to learn more dances? "We will be working on these dances during class time so you'll still have time to rehearse your Gala pieces, and we'll begin with the ballet piece. Everybody, up."

I wasn't in the dance program when the freshman class studied ballet. I had nothing more than what Angela and Nicola had taught me. I hoped it was enough, but I just knew I was going to fall flat on my face!

Ms. Aeling arranged us around the room and started teaching us the dance. It was mostly port-de-bras and talie, which made it simple to remember, but a bit boring. It didn't take me long to decide that boring certainly beat out the abject fear of failure any day.

==

During the first week of February ever year, the Broughton faculty offered a series of seminars. We, as Broughton students, were required to attend the lectures that applied to our own disciplines, and we were encouraged to attend other lectures as they fit into our schedules.

I walked into the first lecture offered by the dance department, a lecture on trends in the dance world given by Ms. Lemert, and was surprised to see so many people in the theater. There were several adults and other teenagers I didn't recognize sitting in the small theater. That's when it occurred to me that the lecture series was open to more than just Broughton's students.

Angela and Nicola saw me standing there, looking around like a loser, and waved me over.

"What are all these people doing here?" I asked, throwing my backpack under my chair.

"The Broughton Lecture Series is open to the local performing arts community," Nicola explained. "Our professors are all active or retired performers themselves, and it's well-known that most of them keep up on their fields, even after retirement, so people loook to them as the local experts."

"Oh. That's kind of cool."

The lecture began, and I noticed Angela taking notes. Not wanting to look too out of place, I pulled out a notebook and started doodling stick figures. As I listened to Ms. Lemert talk about advances in staging and choreography, I made my stick figures organize themselves into a little ballet of their own. By the end of the lecture, I'd turned one edge of my notebook into a flip book where my stick figures twirled and jumped for my amusement.

"I think you missed your calling, Lindy." Miguel stood behind us laughing.

"What are you doing here?" Angela and I asked in unison.

"I decided that if I'm going to take an interest in stagecraft, I ought to learn about how it affects all of the performing arts. I have three more years of performances to help design, after all." He winked, and I thought Angela might swoon.

"That's not a bad idea," Nicola agreed, "but i thought you would be applying to Milhouse again."

"Oh, I have an application and portfolio in at Milhouse, but I want to keep an open mind in case I don't get in again."

"It would be a shame if they didn't accept you this year," Nicola smiled.

"Thanks." Miguel beamed at the high praise from Broughton's resident ice princess.

==

The next lecture was given by one of the piano instructors, and Nicola dragged Angela and me with her. Given the fact I only lasted a day or so in the piano program, I expected to find my time wasted, but it was fairly interesting. The instructor talked about the techiniques of a handful of piano players in comparison to each other with an analysis of what could be learned from them. I'm sure it made perfect sense to Nicola, but my stick figure ballet acquired a stick figure pianist at a stick figure piano that looked more like a flying saucer than a grand piano.

Ms. Aeling's lecture laster in the week was nearly as stuffy as she was. She droned on about dance history, tracing the evolution of steps from the court dances of the Renaissance to their counterparts in modern ballet. It was actually quite fascinating to learn that many of the steps I was learning were a few hundred years old and originally performed by men, but she really could have made the presentation more engaging. Angela and I decided it would haver been a great lecture if she had dancers demonstrating the court dances against dances with the steps we learned.

One of the last lectures in the series was my father's, and Angela dragged me to it over my rather loud protests. I was so angry at being forced to listen to my father that I made plans oto let my stick figures hold an execution for a stick figure violinist, but it never happened, Surprisingly, my father was fun to listen to. He presented a lecture on the symbolism of the violin in music, addressing its use across chamber music, dance, and movie soundtracks. For once, I felt like I was actually a part of why my father loved playing the violin, like I actually understood that it wasn't just about what he did well. It was about genuinely adoring the violin and its associations. It made me feel badly that I couldn't connect to the violin the same way.

After the lecture, I tried to drag my friends out of the theater quickly, but my father spotted us just as we got to the door. "I didn't expect to see you here, Lindy Lee. How did you like my little ramble?"

My friends were looking at me funny, mostly because my father had just called his lecture a ramble. "It was pretty cool, actually, Dad."

"I bet you didn't know your old man wasn't a stick in the mud, huh, kid?"

"Dad, I'm fourteen. Don't call me "Lindy Lee" or "kid".

He laughed at that and ruffled my hair fondly, my attempt to assert my lack of childishness failed. It didn't really help that Angela and Nicola both burst out laughing.

I stormed off, "If anybody needs me, I'm going...somewhere else." The truth was, I had nowhere else to be. I just didn't want to be part of the Matthew Stanton Fan Club.

==

The Broughton Lecture Series culminated in Under the Stars, a performance given strictly by the faculty.

Mom had to pick me up from school so I could eat dinner and change for the evening. We returned to Broughton and made our way to the Main Theater. Just as we entered the theater's lobby, Dr. Birchard approached us, his hand extended to my mother," Lindy, how wonderful to see you again."

"It's 'Libby', Dr. Birchard, and it is nice to be here watching Matthew do what he loves," my mother smiled graciously as she clasped my headmaster's hand.

"Yes, it has been a real pleasure to have him teach here." Dr. Birchard turned to me, "And how are you enjoying this semester, Libby?"

I couldn't hide my disgust. I'd visited with Dr. Birchard a few times this school year, and my mother had just corrected him on her own name. How could he have already forgotten which of us was which? "It taking some getting used to, sir."

"Finding your place in the dance program?" He winked and continued on before I could respond. "That's wonderful. I've heard very good things from your teachers. We'll have to arrange for you and your father to perform together at the recital."

"That's okay," I mumbled, and my mother lightly hit my arm.

"The families have special seating, so let the ushers know who you are. Now, if you will excuse me. I need to talk to some of the other parents." He bowed and walked off.

I started to form a rant, but my mother cut me off, "'Libby' and 'Lindy' sound a lot alike." I was still livid. "At least he isn't calling you 'Melinda' anymore, right?"

I'd lost the argument, so I decided to change the subject. "Is it okay if I sit with my friends tonight?"

"Sure, honey. Meet me here after the performance."

"Thanks, Mom." I took off in search of Angela.

When I finally found her, she was chatting with another student. "Hey, Lindy. Not hanging out with your mom tonight?"

"Nope. She gave me the night off."

"Nice. Want to sit with us?"

"Yes, please!"

The girl next to Angela was literally bouncing at this point, "OhmygodyoureMrStantonsdaughterarentyouImAllie!" I blinked as I tried to pull some words out of what she had just said. Laughing in embarrassment, the girl took a deep breath. I was certain she was going to keep talking in her unintelligible language, so I was surprised to discover i could understand her, "Sorry, I'm hyper. You're Lindy Stanton, aren't you?" I nodded, stunned. "I'm Allie. I take violin with your dad. He's so cool!" As I took another look at her, I realized she looked vaguely familiar from freshman violin.

"Allie was just telling me about a new cartoon she's into," the look on Angela's face made it clear that she felt like something of a captive audience.

"It not a cartoon. It's anime. They're from Japan." And off she went at lightning speed again. I have no idea what her anime was about, but i almost didn't care either, except to wonder if Michael was familiar with it. Part of me thought it might be fun to introduce him to Allie, but part of me realized he'd probably never speak to me again if I did. Allie was almost as bad as Kaycee.

"We should probably go find our seats, right?" Angela asked, not caring that she had just interrupted Allie.

"I couldn't find Nicola, so we should probably find her, too."

"All right." Angela pulled me away from the conversation. "See you later, Allie!" The girl looked momentarily disappointed, but quickly shrugged and went to find others to talk to.

We found Nicola already in the theater waiting for us.

The performance started shortly after we took our seats, and we all watched in awe at the sheer excellence demonstrated by our teachers. Even Ms. Aeling did a modern dance that was so primal I wanted to take modern class from her when I had the elective period for it.

My father's solo just after the intermission was particularly stirring. It reminded me of all those times he played for me when I was a small child, before he started going on tour. I drew my legs up under me and listened raptly. I didn't realize it before now, but I had really missed this part of my relationship with my father. I closed my eyes and remembered sitting in my bed, my mother sitting beside me with her arm wrapped around me, both of us listening to my father play everything from lullabies to nursery rhymes to the occasional bit of a concerto. I'd fallen asleep to so many of them.

Before I realized it, Angela was shaking my arm. "Hey, are you awake over there?'

"Hmm," I'd nearly fallen asleep, "I'm fine."

My father only played in one other piece the entire night. The finale brought the entire faculty together in what was truly a show-stopping number that brought the audience to its feet.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this proud of my father.

==

Before the excitement from Under the Stars had even began to settle, something else stirred up the student body. I walked into Broughton with my father and was overwhelmed by the feeling I'd walked into Barbie's Dream School. Pink and red posters covered most of the department bulletin boards advertising all sorts of things, namely flowers, a court, and a ball.

"That looks like fun," my father stopped to read one of the posters. "Maybe you can go with your friends."

I read over some of the posters, amazed that Angela hadn't mentioned Valentine's Day at Broughton to me at all. She'd done such a great job of keeping me up to date until now.

I marched into social studies where Angela was reviewing her notes, and demanded to know why I was out of the loop. "Oops, sorry, Lindy! I've had other things on my mind."

"Is there anything else I need to know?" I was a bit perturbed.

"Yes, buy flowers today."

"Flowers?" I vaguely remembered reading a poster about flowers.

"You get them for...well...whoever you want. I think the Drama Queens are selling them at lunch. We'll go buy ours together."

"Sounds like a plan!"

==

At lunch, the Drama Queens weren't hard to find at all. Students were lined up clear out the cafeteria door, all waiting to buy carnations to be delivered on Valentine's Day. The proceeds were going to an organization that promoted the performing arts in the local and surrounding communities. I got two pink carnations, one for Angela and one for Nicola. They'd become my lifeline at Broughton, and I couldn't imagine my life without either one of them.

The next day, the Drama Queens were selling tickets to the Valentine Ball, the proceeds from which also benefitted the same organization. Broughton really knew how to celebrate the holidays.

"Should we take care of that today?" I asked as Angela nearly ignored the table.

"Nope. We make plans and then worry about it. They'll be selling the tickets the rest of the week."

Everyone was sitting at the table for a change, so it was the perfect time to decide if we wanted to go as one big group or not. There were some murmurs, and by the end of lunch, we really hadn't reached a consensus.

In technical theater class, Michael barely looked at me, but he had this tiny impish grin on his face that made him unreadable. The class had finally moved on to creating the costumes we couldn't find suitable options for in the collection, so he and I were working on pinning and cutting pattern pieces. It was long, tedious work, made even longer because I couldn't get Michael to tell me what was going on in his head. At the end of class, he vanished quickly, and I was almost grateful.

I carefully put away the pins and scissors we'd been using before neatly stacking the cut pieces and carrying them into the sewing room. Joe was standing in the hall when I walked out, headed back to where Michael and I had been working to grab my backpack.

"How's it going, Lindy?" He had a bashful smile that partnered his best friend's goofy grin a little too well.

"Fine, I guess. Michael's being weird, but I guess that's fairly normal."

Joe laughed. "He gets like that when he's nervous."

"What's he nervous about now?" I slung my backpack over my shoulder, and we headed out of the theater.

"Well," Joe seemed to be the nervous one, "he wants to ask a girl to the Valentine Ball, but he's terrified she'll say no."

"I can't imagine anyone rejecting Michael. To listen to everyone talk, he's practically Broughton royalty."

"Good. So, you'll go with him?"

I stopped dead in my tracks, "What?"

"He's hoping you'll go with him, but you've become like a little sister to him, so it would kill him if you turned him down." Joe was still walking, but his pace had slowed a bit.

"Michael...wants to take me to the Ball?" My backpack started sliding down my shoulder as I stood there in shock.

"Yes, so will you do it?"

"Ummm....sure. Why not? It's not like I had any other plans."

Joe spun around, his grin had widened to a full smile. "Great! He'll be so excited!"

Spending the Valentine Ball with Michael Brown. That was bound to bring at least one Duck to our table Saturday night.

==

I was still in shock the next day. The freshman dance class was working on getting the ballet piece down for the recital, but I had no memory of either class or rehearsal.

When I got to lunch, Michael and Joe were both already sitting there, both smirking. Angela and Miguel were also sitting together. I took the open seat between Miguel and Michael, and Nicola wasn't too far behind me as she took the seat between Joe and Angela.

"So, great news, everyone. Michael managed to ask a girl to the Ball." Joe elbowed his best friend.

"If you call sending someone else to ask her 'managing to ask a girl to the ball'," Nicola retorted. "He's lucky Lindy said yes." Michael blushed at the accusation.

"Speaking of that," Miguel turned to Angela, "Are we on for Saturday night?"

She nearly punched his arm, "If you hadn't asked me, I'd have asked you!" She then turned and winked at me.

Joe looked around the table, "So, Nicola, since everyone else seems to be-"

"Don't even think about, Joe Langford. I wouldn't go to the ball with you if you were the last man on earth." Everyone looked at her in shock.

He didn't even seem fazed. "I expected you would turn me down."

"Sorry, Joe." Despite her tone, the apology sounded sincere.

We spent the rest of lunch solidifying our plans for the weekend, and then headed our different directions to class.

==

I felt so badly. I bought cheery pink plowers for my girlfriends, but I'd completely forgotten the guys, who were kind enough to not forget about me. Each flower came with a very sweet card, Miguel and Michael both thanking me for being myself and for being their friend; Joe's had a beautiful poem written on it, thanking me for letting him into my talented little world. Angela and Nicola both sent me white carnations with cute, but sill cards attached.

I'm not sure I would have been quite so well friended if I'd successfully talked my way out of Broughton and into the local public school.

As I placed my small bouquet of carnations into my backpack so the flowers stuck out of it, I noticed Yolanda glaring at me. She hadn't received a single carnation, not even from her Ducks. It was surprising. I thought those two at the very least would have sent her carnations, but she apparently hadn't made any friends, even within her small circle of flunkies.

I looked at my flowers again, and felt very blessed. I came to Broughton with nothing, nobody, and now I was burdened with a fun, loyal band of friends. I was pretty sure I'd never felt so warm with my friends in middle school or at soccer.

Being forced to attend Broughton had definitely had its perks!

==

The Valentine Ball was held in the cafeteria like the Halloween Ball had been. Gorgeous rose boughs created arches along the walls, and small pink and ivory rose bouquets surrounded by votives decorated each table. It was beautiful and almost had a romantic feel to it. It almost made me regret coming with Michael, who was being his usual perfect gentleman self.

The group quickly clustered around a table. "Has anybody seen Joe?" Nicola asked, looking around the room.

"He's probably hiding from his date," Michael got my chair for me and then seated himself next to me. "The only girl who said yes was a chatty freshman, and she drove him up the wall on the way over here."

I'd come with Angela and Miguel, but I could only guess who Michael was describing. Sure enough, a couple of minutes later, Kaycee bounded up to our table, "Joe isn't here?"

"He probably stepped outside for some air," Michael replied politely. Kaycee blushed furiously at being spoken to by her hero, and bounded away.

"Is he really?" Angela asked, stifling a laugh.

"I have no idea where he is, but if I were him, that's where I'd be."

"Why didn't he just come alone?" Nicola asked disdainfully. She was alone for the evening by choice, and I envied her for it almost as much as I felt sorry for Joe for being stuck with Kaycee for the evening.

"You know Joe. He feels he has some sort of reputation to uphold." Nicola snorted at that, and I had to swallow my laugh. As far as Nicola was concerned, Joe's reputation for chasing pretty girls was completely obnoxious, and had cost him any respect she might otherwise have had for him. I was pretty sure that was why she had turned him down flat when he asked her to the ball.

Miguel stood, pulling Angela to her feet, "Let's go dance." I smiled as I watched them leave. Only a few months ago, she'd been afraid Miguel was some loser freshman. Now, I think she was secretly planning to ask him out.

"That's a great idea." Michael stood beside me and bowed. "May I have this dance?"

I blushed at his formality. "Sure. I'd love to."

Fortuantely, Michael was great at ballroom dancing, and didn't complain when I didn't catch on quickly enough. But soon, we were having fun.

When we got tired, we sat back down. Joe had finally joined our table, and he was watching the room carefully while Nicola played with her napkin. Michael watched her for a moment, "Joe, why don't you ask Nicola to dance?"

Nicola wrinkled her nose at the idea, but Joe quickly dismissed the idea. "If I go out on the dance floor, Kaycee will find me very quickly and make me dance with her."

"It's not dancing with Kaycee you're afraid of," Michael pointed out. Joe smirked. "But if you won't, then I will. Do you mind, Lindy?" I shook my head, excited to see someone pull Nicola onto the dance floor. "Then, Nicola?" He held out his hand, which she took warily.

I watched them out on the dance floor. They were perfect together. It seemed a shame he'd asked me instead of her, but I knew he also really didn't know her well. As near as I could tell, he'd only asked me because we'd become friends.

"What's the matter, princess? Get ditched?" Joe and I both looked to Nicola's empty chair, only to find Yoli standing behind it.

"What do you want?" Joe hissed.

"I just think it's funny Lindy's date is out dancing with someone else."

"Michael just asked Nicola to dance. It's no big deal." I didn't understand what her problem was.

"Lindy knows. She told him she didn't mind, and she honestly doesn't." Joe stood, his tall frame dwarfing Yoli in an almost intimidating manner. "And if I asked Lindy to dance, she'd accept, and Michael wouldn't worry about that. That's the nice part about being friends."

She nearly growled at the insinuation before addressing me again. "Don't think this is over."

"Great. Think what is over?" I asked the air as she stomped away from her table and back to the table she, Sasha, and Kat were sitting at, clearly without dates.

Joe sat back down. "I really feel sorry for Kat."

"Why is that?"

"One of the junior dance students asked her to the ball, and Yolanda made her turn the guy down." He was folding his napkin into interesting shapes, none of them holding.

"That's terrible." I looked back toward the table. Yoli and Sasha looked as angry as ever, but Kat did look sad. I couldn't imagine why she remained friends with the Ducks.

"She apparently has a pretty big crush on the guy, too." Joe was now looking pointedly at me. He looked at his napkin creation for a moment, and then set it down. "I'm tired fo sitting here. Would you like to dance?"

I'm certain my eyes lit up. "I'd love to! But aren't you afraid of being seen by Kaycee?"

"If she sees me, then she'll simply have to wait for me to finish my dance." He offered me his arm, and we walked out to the dance floor. The whole time we were dancing, I knew my feet never touched the floor.

Kaycee found us as we were headed back to the table and Joe slowly released my arm to put a hand on Kaycee's back and push her toward our table. I seated myself next to Michael, who whispered, "Have fun?" I nodded, and he smiled before grimacing as Kaycee realized he was sitting at the table and started squealing.

None of us knew a quiet moment the rest of the night.

==

In the whirlwind that was February, my only reminder of the upcoming Spring Gala was my technical theater class. As usual, Michael and I watched as Miguel adjusted his costume sketches to match what the team was able to produce, and then adjust the costumes to better match the requests from the dance and drama departments. His designs were so incredible; it made me sad that I wasn't dancing in the Gala. I wouldn't get to wear one of Miguel's creations.

By the time Stage Week hit, Michael was gone, leaving Miguel and me to make sure the costumes were finished and met the needs of their respective departments. The freshmen on the costume team were also left in charge of making sure each costume got to its appropriate dressing room, which meant that Miguel and I together had to keep track of all the costumes.

I had to learn how to tack to help the older students finish embellishing the costumes and to repair any costume ripped during rehearsal. They would have taught me how to use the sewing machine, but I was so afraid of catching my finger in the needle that they felt it was best to just leave me to the smaller projects. I spent most of class tacking costumes together and adding beads and sequins. It was so tedious that I thought I would go out of my mind, but Miguel was trying to help sew on sequins, too. He made jokes while we worked, and it made the time pass more quickly.

It was even better when we had to work while the various groups did their technical and dress rehearsals. We were allowed to sit in the audience to work on sewing on more beads and sequins. The light was poor, but it was enough and I soon found myself relaxing into my work. There was just something about listening to what was going on up on the stage while doing rhythmic, routine work.

I was finishing tacking a rather large jewel onto one of the drama costumes when my cell phone suddenly vibrated in my pocket. I jumped, knocking over a container of beads, and pulled out my phone, apologizing to Miguel who was already scrambling to rescue the tiny jewels. Michael had been texting me for two days straight, usually to tell me how things were going. This time, he asked how things were going at Broughton. I texted him back, informing him that he had just made my workload a nightmare. He immediately responded with an apology and a smiley face, and I let him know it was fine. Truth be told, in the time it took me to finish my conversation with Michael, Miguel had corralled most of the beads. I helped him sort out the last few handfuls back into their right bins. We finished tacking on all of the beads and sequins, and carried everything backstage.

I checked off the costumes I had finished and headed off for the dressing rooms. Joe was sitting in the stairs that led to the house, playing with his cell phone, when I came back through to get the rest of the bead containers. I sat down next to him. Since Michael left, we'd spent a lot of our free time together. "What are you doing?"

"Reminding Michael he'll be back soon enough," Joe was furiously tapping away at his phone's small keyboard.

"Again?" Michael had been emailing and texting Joe and me in his free time. Mostly, it was only about how much fun he was having and glad he was to have this opportunity. He was even teloling us who he was working with. I'd never seen Michael quite so excited and chatty.

That morning, though, his messages to Joe had started changing. "Yeah, He misses the familiar faces."

"Yeah, I can see how a guy like Michael would want familiarity." I told Joe about my text conversation with Michael.

"It's funny. He's still the guy who'd just as soon shut himself up in his room until he has to rehearse or be on stage. But there are days when I think he's actually starting to figure out how to be a part of the human race."

Nicola walked up and seated herself on the other side of Joe. "Michael Brown is human? Someone, alert the media."

"I don't think he's human yet. But I think he's got the potential." Joe's phone rang, and he looked at the message.

"I wouldn't mind seeing Michael the Human. I was positive he was a well-designed robot," Nicola looked over Joe's shoulder, trying to read the message.

"Yeah, but he's my well-designed robot," Joe said defensively, snatching the phone away.

"I didn't mean anything by it. I like Michael. It's just hard to remember sometimes that he's a kid like us." She sighed. "Anyway, I really just came to find out what you're doing after you're done here, Lindy."

"Oh, I really hadn't thought about it yet." Somehow, I'd just assumed I'd go home. Dad was waiting for me to finish my crew work.

"Yeah, we ought to go do something," Joe's eyes were still glued to his phone.

"Well, let me know. Because otherwise, you're coming out with Angela and me. You're welcome to come, too, Joe." With that, Nicola excused herself and returned to the backstage.

I watched her go and wondered what they had planned. It was already fairly late, but it wasn't like any of us had anywhere to be in the morning.

==

It turned out Nicola's plans for our evening weren't too intensive. We gathered at Angela's house to watch a couple of dance movies. The first was about a girl who really wanted to become a professional dancer, but wasn't any good at it. It kind of reminded of Yoli in a way, except the main character didn't have an exceptionally large chip on her shoulder. The second was a somewhat lame documentary on a ballet production being put together. Nicola watched it raptly. Joe fell asleep just a few minutes in.

It was the nice, quiet kind of evening I really needed, even though I didn't realize how stressed I felt between classes, rehearsal, and the Spring Gala. Before the documentary was even halfway through, I rested my head on Joe's shoulder and drifted off to sleep.

==

The second week of March found Miguel and me sitting on opposite sides of the backstage area, each armed with repair kits in case anyone needed a last-minute repair. We had some of the best seats in the house.

Every single performance went off beautifully. This week was what Broughton was all about, creating people who could perform under pressure, who could dazzle an audience to their feet. I'd never been happier to be a Broughton student, and actually regretted that I hadn't been cast in the Spring Gala. I wanted to be part of the excitement as something other than a member of the stage crew.

Something was clearly wrong with me.

After the dance department's performance in the middle of the week, Miguel and I helped clean up the backstage. I helped pack up props from both the dance and drama departments and set the boxes near the loading dock doors they could be moved back to the drama department's storage area. It never ceased to amaze me how much work went into putting on a performance, or how much work went into striking a performance when it was finished.

I had just moved the last box over to the loading door when I heard a shriek coming from the audience. I ran onto the stage, Miguel running on from the other side. We both looked out into the audience.

Nicola was sitting in one of the aisles watching the crew work to break down the stage, a pink stargazer lily in front of her face. She and I both looked at the flower's wielder at the same time.

"Michael!" Nicola jumped to her feet and accepted the lily.

"You looked great up there." He smiled bashfully.

I nearly tackled him when I got to them. "You're home early!"

"I am home early," he agreed. "We didn't actually know how long it would take, but I'm glad I'm home in time to see part of the Gala."

"Does anyone else know you're back?"

Michael pointed toward the lobby, "Just my ride." Joe stood in the doorway and waved at us. "We have to get going, but we'll see you guys later?"

"Yes, I think we're meeting at the coffee house as soon as Lindy and Miguel are through here," Nicola nodded.

"Great, we'll be there." He ran up the aisle to Joe. We saw him mumble something, and Joe nodded. The door swung shut behind them as they left.

Miguel was just wrapping up helping the sets crew stow the flats from the dance performance when I ran backstage to grab my belongings. "You ready to go."

"Yes. Was that Michael?"

"Yes, and he and Joe are meeting us at the coffeehouse. Let's go!"

==

When we walked into the coffeehouse, Angela was beside herself with glee, "Look who's home!"

"Yes, we saw him at the theater." Nicola twirled the stargazer lily in her hand before setting it on the table. Miguel quickly slid onto the stool next to Angela. I went to sit next to Joe, but he moved over a seat and placed me between Michael and himself. I looked at him questioningly, but he pulled me onto the cleared stool.

"Trust me," he whispered. I let my backpack slide to the ground, and let Joe take my coat.

Everyone wanted to know how Michael's week had been, but Joe and I had been talking to him all week, so we sat there quietly drinking our lattes. Michael was unusually animated as he told everybody about his job.

"Honestly, though, I'm really just glad to be home."

"The choir is performing tomorrow night. The pieces aren't too hard. You could probably sneak right in if you wanted."

Michael smiled appreciatively at the suggestion. "I think I'm going to enjoy just being in the audience this time around."

"Had enough?" Joe asked.

"At the moment, yeah."

The rest of the evening was spent in leisurely conversations. To outsiders, we would have looked just like any other group of teenagers. It was a brief moment that resembled a normal life.

==

With the Spring Gala over and no other performances outside of the Seniors' Performance and the End of the Year Recital, dance class kicked into high gear. During freshman class, we were learning the tap piece, which I kept having trouble with. Nicola and Angela tried to help me with it when our schedules allowed us to get together, but tap just wasn't my strong suit. Rehearsal period was spent learning the jazz number.

It was obvious very quickly that I was the only person in class with limited experience in both tap and jazz, and Ms. Aeling came down hard on me for it. To make matters worse, Yoli was a natural at jazz, and she flaunted that fact every chance she got. Ms. Aeling frequently praised her and asked us to look to her to see how we should be dancing the piece.

I was still trying to figure out how to not be self-conscious about the moves we were doing. I didn't really want to look at Yoli, or just like her.

One afternoon while working with Nicola, I got so frustrated that i just sat down. "Why am I bothering? It's not like I'm going to be anywhere near as good as my classmates, even if I rehearse every free moment of the day."

Nicola sat down, looking sympathetic for the first time since I met her, "You're going to be just fine. Whether you understand this or not, Lindy, you are actually one of the best dancers in the freshman class. I've noticed it. Angela has noticed it. When Ms. Lemert works with the freshman class, I'm sure she'll see it, too. I'd be very surprised if you don't make Belles next year."

"What's Belles?"

"The closest thing Broughton has to a dance company. They're the most talented dancers at Broughton."

"Are you a Belle?"

"I am," she smiled. "I was the second freshman ever admitted into the Belles. Angela is an alternate."

"When do you rehearse?"

"We have our own class period, and then Ms. Lemert assigns outside rehearsals as we need them."

"What makes you think I'd ever be qualified to be in this group if it's the most talented students in the dance program."

Nicola smiled at my question. "Because you belong with them, Lindy. I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but I stand by what I said. You have within you the potential to dance around your classmates, and I hope you realize that soon. It will help you be more confident in your dancing."

By the end of the week, Ms. Aeling had set rehearsals during lunch and after school. If she could have done it, I knew she'd have put them on the weekends, too.

Fortunately, some things were still sacred at Broughton.

==

The last weekend of March, Miguel invited me to an exhibition at Milhouse. It was to Milhouse what the Spring Gala was to Broughton. I'd only seen what was hanging in the coffee shop at First Fridays, and was excited to have an opportunity to see what other kinds of work the students did.

There was simply no way to prepare for what awaited me at Milhouse. It was like walking into an art museum, only the hallways of Milhouse seemed warner as ensconced wall lights glowed against wood-paneled walls. Sculptures in clay, wire, and all sorts of odd things were grouped in the more open areas of the school. The walls were covered in paintings, collages, and pieces I could only describe as experiments in how to apply something to canvas.

It was amazing.

Miguel and I completed a tour of the animation hallway, where flat screened monitors hung on the wall and ran students' work in cycles, and ran into Nicola and Angela. The four of us linked together and set off in search of every sculpture on the campus.

Surprisingly, we found Michael staring at a mobile hung above a cluster of sculptures at the far end of the school. It wasn't hard to see what had caught his attention. The artist had recycled a variety of odd food containers into a very clear reminder why recycling messages needed to be somewhat aesthetic. We all quickly averted our eyes to the sculptures in the area, only to find Joe hiding behind one clay sculpture that looked like rushing water.

"I'm glad everyone is here tonight," Miguel led us toward a hallway full of pencil compositions, some of which had staging sketches next to them to show how the final piece had developed. Miguel rarely expressed an interest in our little accidental clique, so we all looked at him in disbelief. He stopped next to a particularly engaging pencil drawing of a mariachi player. "I have an announcement. I was accepted to Milhouse for next year."

I'm not sure who squealed first between Angela and me, but Michael clasped Miguel's shoulder, "Congratulations, man! You deserve it!"

Angela hugged him, "I'm not sure I'm going to be okay with not seeing you every day." Miguel blushed in a shade that competed with the deep maroon of the mariachi's outfit.

It was wonderful news. Miguel was going to be attending the school he truly belonged in, and he got to tell us while we were at Milhouse! I had to agree with Angela, though. Broughton wouldn't be the same without him. Technical theater classes would be very boring without his stellar designs. Somebody else would be designing for Broughton next year, and I knew that they wouldn't have a hope of producing anything as gorgeous as what Miguel had designed over the last several months. I fought back my selfish tears and hugged him.

Michael was right: Miguel deserved his overdue appointment to Milhouse.

We walked through the rest of the exhibition together. Miguel took Angela by the hand and led us through a tour of both Milhouse and the show. Nicola was doing her best to keep up with them. I walked between Joe and Michael, admiring everything. Everything was so wonderful, and yet I was still very sad. I knew that I was running out of time to just be with my friends like this. Next year would be different.

Natural Talent, Book One, Day Six

Thu, 08 Nov 2007 06:36:50 GMT

..........

30,059 / 50,000
(60.1%)

Natural Talent, Volume 1
Subtitle: No-Talent Nobody</p>

The new semester started on a snowy January morning. I made my way up the icy steps that led to the puddled main hallway. Once again, I was walking into the unknown. I had no idea what would happen if the dance program didn't work out for me. My parents were adamant that I stay at Broughton, and somehow my midterm grades had somehow been enough to keep me from failing either social studies or science.

They didn't keep me from being thrown into a group with a couple of sophomores and another freshman, Kat, in social studies. After my run-ins with Sasha, I was pretty sure I didn't want to spend the next month with another member of that group. I missed most of what our group was expected to do because I was so busy dreading my next period. When the bell rang, one of the sophomores had to nudge me to leave.

Freshmen in the dance program take class together so everyone can be brought up to Broughton's minimum expectations. I followed my classmates into the locker room. The other girls all started changing into what looked like heavy-duty pink pantyhose and black swimsuits. I felt a bit stupid standing there, the only one not changing. Some of the girls noticed me and started whispering and snickering. Annoyed and still wearing my blue jeans and my Broughton Academy sweatshirt, I walked out to the studio.

A woman who looked even more severe than my piano teacher was standing by the stereo, shuffling through CDs. My tennis shoes squeaked on the polished hardwood floor, and she turned, scowling at me, "No street shoes in the studio!"

"Street shoes?" I looked down at my sneakers.

The woman sighed heavily as she slammed the CDs into place on a shelf below the stereo. "Remove your shoes. We only wear dance shoes in this studio."

Oh, I thought as I kicked off the shoes and placed them near the wall.

"Your shoes, and your street clothes go in your locker. Why aren't you changing with the others?"

I had a bad feeling that this new life was going to really raise my verbal score on the SAT. First, there were street shoes; now there were street clothes. Frustrated, I explained, "I didn't know I was supposed to bring other clothes."

The teacher circled me like a hawk, staring down her slender, upturned nose at me. "Are you in the wrong class, perhaps?" The hopeful tone of her voice made me want to scream, but I really didn't need it getting back to my father that I was already causing trouble in my new program.

Hoping that responding in short sentences would keep me from telling this woman how I felt, I said, "I'm here for Freshman Dance."

"Hmmm... Well, you obviously haven't studied dance before." She walked back over to the studio.

"I didn't know it required studying." I didn't realize how much of my sarcasm and anger had leaked into my voice until she turned around, fury apparent on her taut face.

"Well, we simply don't have time to bring you up to the level of the other girls-"

"But we'll do everything we can to help you get there." I turned at the new voice, a warm lilting tone. The woman extended her hand as she crossed the studio. "Are you Melinda?"

"Lindy," I corrected.

The newcomer nodded, "I'm Ms. Lemert. Dr. Birchard said we would have a new dancer. Did your parents not get my email?"

"You sent my parents an email?" My father was right on campus. Why were my teachers resorting to email?

"Oh, dear. I was afraid it hadn't gone through. I sent them an email with a list of things you would want for class. I'll see if I can find it and print it out for you."

Someone had tried to make sure I wouldn't be standing here embarrassed? Someone who didn't even know me? Somehow, Broughton brightened just a little bit.

Ms. Lemert vanished through a door next to the stereo and returned with a box. "You'll be starting jazz with the other girls today, but I only have ballet slippers. Dig through here and see if any of them fit you. You can borrow them until you get your own. And I'm afraid you'll have to dance in what you're wearing."

The box was filled with what looked like pink leather slippers, although they were more tapered than any slippers I'd ever owned. "Um, excuse me," both teachers turned, "How do I know which ones are rights shoes and which ones are left?"

"It doesn't matter, Lindy. Just find two that fit." It was a strange bit of advice, but soon I had a pair of odd pink leather slippers on my feet. I liked the way they molded to my feet. They felt weird and cool all at the same time. I ran across the studio in them, receiving more glares from the mean teacher. I ignored her and spun around. I even tried playing soccer with an imaginary ball. The slippers were almost better than my soccer cleats.

From what the first teacher had said and from what I had seen in the other departments at Broughton, I suspected I was the only person in the room who had never studied any type of dance. The other girls walked in and lined themselves up at the wooden bars that hung at just below shoulder level around the room. Some of the girls warmed up with streches both on the floor and using the bars. I was used to warming up before soccer, but couldn't figure out why I had to stretch and limber up before dancing.

Once everyone was in class, Ms. Lemert called us to the center of the room. Nearly every single one of my classmates sat down gracefully; I just kind of fell to the floor. That was when I noticed the mirrors lining the wall behind Ms. Lemert. Sitting there sprawled out in my "street clothes", I really looked like I didn't belong in this room full of princesses. I eyed the door briefly, but Ms. Lemert started talking.

"Good morning, ladies." We all acknowledged her in some way, many of the girls responding in unison. Ms. Lemert smiled. "I trust everyone had a good break." There was a another chorus of murmurs. "Excellent. Now, I'm sure many of you know that we will start preparing for the Spring Gala this week. You'll learn a series of dances, which you will perform for Ms. Aeling and I at the end of the week so we can set the dances."

Some of my classmates started whispering excitedly among themselves. I felt something settle deep in my stomach, a fear of having to audition again. Many of the girls will still whispering, including the Ducks, as Ms. Lemert asked us all to move to one of the non-mirrored walls.

For the next half hour, I got my first real taste of the dance program at Broughton. The older dancers performed for us. The first group did a soft ballet that sort of reminded me of the flowers in the Winter Performance. The next group did a fast tap number that I loved. This group was far better than the freshman group that had performed last month. The last group did a dance that looked lie random flailing that occasionally had a pattern to it. It was fairly disturbing. When the last group finished, we applauded.

Ms. Lemert then sent a handful of older dancers to various spots in the room, and my class was divided among them. I was sent to the corner where Nicola and Angela were waiting. I was so glad to see them, and it looked like they were happy to see me in their group. Once everyone was sorted, Ms. Lemert announced that these were our audition pods, the groups we would be learning , practicing, and performing the audition pieces in. Looking at my group, I felt very sorry for them. They would all be like the older dancers, elegant and knowing what to do. I would be the one in the back hoping I didn't hit somebody with one of those kicks or jumps.

The older dancers were dismissed to their class, and we were asked to spread out around the room. Ms. Aeling led us through a series of slow exercises that gradually got faster. Then she had us do jumping patterns and leaps across the room. We even had to spin across the room. Despite the horrible things she kept saying to me, I found I was having a lot of fun. I could see what my grandmother had liked so much about dance. I'd never be as good as her or my classmates, but I was having a good time despite everything.

Ms. Lemert dismissed us for the day, handing me a piece of paper as I grabbed my tennis shoes. "I've included the name and address of a shop that knows what we prefer here, and they'll be happy to help you find everything you need." I thanked her and retrieved my backpack from the locker room. The paper was shoved and forgotten.

==

"This is going to be awesome!" Angela exclaimed as she picked the tomato wedges out of her salad. "You're going to have so much fun! These dances are incredible!"

"That's great, Angela, but I'm not going to know what to do," I reminded her.

"Silly girl, that's what you have Nicola and me for." Nicola? We'd never really talked before, and she always seemed so distant. I couldn't imagine the ice princess having any desire to help me navigate the dance program. "She and I talked about it on our way to our studios, and we're going to have a sleepover this weekend to get you a head-start on dancing.

"But the audition is Friday?" It never ceased to amaze me that Angela planned out my weekends long before I'd ever had a chance to think about them.

"Yeah, and I'll help you get ready for that while we're doing homework. But you're going to be in the dance program for a while, and we're going to help keep you there." She almost devoured the salad in three bites and grinned at me. "You'll be great!"

"If you say so," I poked at my soggy sandwich.

Sasha chose that moment to interrupt our peaceful lunch. "Hey, Angela. Yoli wants you to start eating lunch with us. She thinks the Ducks should always be seen together."

"Then why aren't you over there with her?" Angela replied with disinterest.

She huffed. "Yoli expects you to start eating lunch with us, so you better get over there."

"Why?" Angela's green eyes narrowed.

"Because you're a Duck, or will be one sooner or later. Might as well give in now."

"Whatever." Angela rolled her eyes and grabbed her bag. "Come on, Lindy. Let's go get started on teaching you one of the dances."

"Oh, that's right," Sasha sneered. "We noticed you'd flunked out of choir." I started to react, but Angela grabbed my wrist. "I can't imagine what you think you're doing in the dance program. I saw you trying to dance this morning. You're just going to flunk out. You should leave the program now, while you still have your dignity intact." She did an coordinated series of movements and laughed.

I understood she was trying to make fun of me, and it might have been funny if I wasn't already thinking that I would wash out of the dance program.

Angela started to pull me out of the cafeteria. "Lindy is going to be twice the dancer you are, Sasha." I looked at Angela in amazement while Sasha continued to laugh behind us. I couldn't figure out why Angela had so much faith in me, but I was grateful for it.

==

I spent all of science thinking about everything that had happened that day, and missed the entire lecture. At least we weren't doing any lab work this week. I could worry about my next opportunity to fail at the performing arts all I wanted.

In tech theater class, I found myself on yet another team without Miguel and Michael, both of whom had been assigned to the lighting team. After I met the other members of the props team, I was sorely wishing I was on the lighting team with my friends. When I found them in the theater's lobby, two of them were arguing at the top of their lungs.

"What's going on?"

"Oh, Francine and George are trying to settle who is going to be the head of the team," said the guy sitting on the floor.

"Head of the team?" Neither of the two teams I'd worked with had felt any need for a leader. Everyone just worked together. I had a bad feeling about this team.

"Yeah, And Ravi took off when they wouldn't let him be in charge. It was pretty crazy."

I set down my bag and took out my sketchpad. It seemed like an excellent time to catch up on my stick figures.

By the time the bell rang, nothing had been resolved, and the props team had no idea what it was doing. I hadn't even seen any sort of notes on what props any of the departments needed, although I couldn't imagine either the choral or orchestra departments needing any. Dismayed, I walked over to my father's office.

"How's it going, Lindy Lee? Given up on dance yet?" The soft smile in his eyes calmed me out of trying to defend my indecisiveness.

"No, but I'm thinking tech theater is going to suck for the next couple of months," I admitted as I sank into the nearest chair.

"Oh?" He wiped down his bow and put it in his violin case.

"The props team is pretty disorganized."

"Maybe you can help straighten them out." He closed the case and set it next to his briefcase.

I thought about the fight that would result. "I think I'd only make things worse." Suddenly remembering my morning, I fished a crumpled piece of paper out of my backpack. "I have to get some stuff for class tomorrow."

My father looked over the list. "We'll take care of this on the way home."

My life was suddenly topsy-turvy. I almost liked my performing arts program and dreaded going to technical theater class. When did I forget the rules of my own game?