Awakening (Book One of The Geis) (25 page)

“Onstage now is the slip jig trophy special. All two-hand specials please check in backstage.” The announcer’s voice echoed in the gym.

I searched the backstage area, a knot forming in my stomach. I hadn’t seen Josh yet. He didn’t have to come early this morning for the solos, like the rest of us, but I’d thought he would come at least an hour early for the duet.

Maybe he wouldn’t come. I shoved the thought away. Josh would come. No matter what he thought of me, he wouldn’t leave me partner-less.

My own solos had gone better than I had expected. Leah had somehow slipped me in at a higher level than most beginners, and I’d made it through all of my dances without messing up. One first-place and three third-place medals were tucked into the side pocket of my dance bag. My results were lower than I wanted, but for my first feis, I couldn’t complain. Rourke and Leah were pleased.

The other duets were showing their pinned-on numbers to a woman with a clipboard. I wasn’t worried about checking us in—I’d already done that. But Josh and I needed to be lined up, onstage, in twenty minutes, and I still needed to change out of my beginner costume for the duet. I made my way into the hall.

A line for the girls’ bathroom snaked down the hall. I bypassed it and sought out a smaller, less popular restroom. Shedding the black skirt and jumper that marked me as a beginner, I slipped into my dress for the duet. I stroked the silky fabric that clung to my waist, wondering if Aunt Avril really did sew magic into it. Changing from my beginner outfit into the filmy costume made me feel beautiful and confident. When I turned my head, the tiara, a gift from Leah, sparkled in the light.

I was washing my hands when the door burst open and Taminy stumbled into the bathroom. Her eyes were red, and black mascara ran a trail down one of her cheeks.

She stopped when she saw me, and then darted into a stall.

My first instinct was to hurry out and pretend that I didn’t notice that she had been crying. Then Taminy sighed, and I couldn’t leave her there.

Taminy emerged from the stall, a wad of toilet paper in her hand. She walked to the full-length mirror, pulling her arms out of her solo dress. A white tank top kept her cool, and she let the bodice of her dress hang over the skirt.

“Are you ok?” I asked, moving closer to where she stood.

Taminy whipped her head up—her eyes were filled with tears. “How would you feel if you blew your last chance to qualify for the regionals?”

I stepped back, surprised by the despair in her voice. I didn’t know what she was talking about, but obviously it was important to Taminy.

Taminy hiccupped. “The thing is, I don’t want to compete at the regional competition.” She looked at me as if she expected a response.

“That’s good then, right?”

“I don’t even want to dance, but if I don’t keep advancing, my mother will quit paying for my violin lessons.”

Now I was floored. Taminy didn’t like to Irish dance? I never would have guessed.

“Mother was good—a three-time World’s qualifier, even. But my grandparents couldn’t afford to go overseas for the competition, and she never got her chance. I think she wants me to win so that she can go to World’s.”

I watched a show once about mothers who pushed their daughters to perform in pageants. Some of them made their little girls compete against their wills. I guessed that life for Taminy had been similar.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I can’t imagine putting in all of the work to get the dances perfect if you don’t enjoy it.”

“It’s not so bad.” She wiped under her eyes with the tissue. “I don’t mind it most of the time.”

“Will you still be able to play your violin?”

“I’ll ask Daddy. If I throw a fit about it, he’ll keep up my lessons.” She smiled, and it was the first time that I saw Taminy’s smile reach her eyes.

The door opened and two little girls burst into the bathroom, each of them with several medals hanging from ribbons on their necks. Reel music floated through the open door. “I have to go,” I said.

The smirk returned to Taminy’s face. She eyed where my costume brushed at the backs of my calves, and slipped back into the arms of her own solo dress. “Don’t trip.”

I remembered the first time I’d ever seen Irish dancing, when Taminy soaked my ballet costume. Not much had changed, but at least she was being civil, which was more than I had expected, coming from Taminy. “Thanks. I hope your dad lets you keep your violin.”

I ran back to the gym, hoping that Josh would be lining up. Girls in vibrant dresses filled the backstage area. I could see the other duet groups stretching and going through their dances. Still no sign of Josh.

The violinist played a toe-tapping reel, and the audience clapped along to the beat of the dancers. Our duet would be next. My heart beat in double-time to the music. Before the feis, I’d been nervous that I wouldn’t be able to dance to the live musician, but Rourke had assured me that a reel was a reel, no matter which reel the violinist chose.

I peeked through a slit in the curtain that had been suspended down the middle of the gym floor. A temporary dance floor had been taped down over the basketball court to form a stage in front of the bleachers. The adjudicator sat at a table near the front of the stage. She stared at the clock, not at the dancers lined on the back of the stage. She had been judging all day, and probably hoped that the specials would get over quickly.

The bleachers were filled, and the crowd’s energy rolled over me in a wave that clenched my stomach. Next to Mom and Benji, Zoey lay with her head on Dad’s lap. Zoey had danced earlier that morning, earning the first feis medals that all beginners won. Aunt Avril caught me looking at her and waved, never pausing in her conversation with Mom.

I stepped around dress bags and shoes scattered around the floor, and spotted Leah and Rourke near the far wall, with Josh kneeling beside them. When Josh straightened from tying his shoes, I caught my breath.

Aunt Avril had said she would make something for Josh to wear for the duet, but I wasn’t prepared for how he looked. His shirt was a deep red, a perfect complement to the velvet ribbon that laced down my back. A black vest set off the tie Aunt Avril had made from the leftover fabric of my dress. Josh held one foot behind him in a stretch, pulling the muscles in his arms and chest taut. His eyes darted around the room, and he smiled at something Leah said.

But it wasn’t Josh’s costume that made me slow my walk and watch him from a distance. In that moment, I truly saw what he meant to me. He didn’t love Irish dancing the way I did, but he was here, at a competition. For me. He knew me, with all of my failings, and still he stood with me—even when I took his friendship for granted. My heart swelled with the realization.

I walked through the crowd of dancers to stand beside Leah.

“Oh McKayla, you are radiant.” Leah embraced me.

Josh turned, and when he saw me his eyes widened.

“Hi Josh.”

The orange and the reds of his costume made his eyes deepen to a darker green, and in them I could see the approval I longed for. But he didn’t smile, and a moment later the connection was gone, replaced by the wall I wanted to break down between us. A sick feeling knotted in my stomach, and my nerves returned in full force.

Rourke strode over to us, his limp barely noticeable. He was dressed to kill in a black jacket and dark jeans, with an orange cravat at his neck. Leah stepped back when she saw him coming. He stood between Josh and me, resting one hand on each of our shoulders for a moment before he began to sign.

Josh looked to Leah for translation.

This is your time to shine. I want you to forget about the people out there watching. They don’t care whether you dance well or not.

Josh and I nodded. I didn’t know if Rourke’s words were supposed to get me excited or scare me to death. I noticed the other dancers sneaking glances at us, probably distracted by Rourke’s sign language.

Feel deeply.
Rourke patted his chest and looked me in the eye.
Draw it from here, and pull it out for all to see.
He clapped Josh on the back and headed for the bleachers.

There were three other pairs getting ready to compete backstage. They didn’t look as nervous as I felt. One of the pairs stretched on the floor, their matching black dresses studded with crystals. The other four dancers practiced their routines, warming up muscles that were overworked from the earlier events of the day. Two of the girls wore their dance school’s dresses, adding cat-ear headbands for a costume, and the other two wore hats with spinners on top. Tweedledum and Tweedledee maybe? Josh was the only boy in this competition, and I smiled knowing that he was my dance partner.

Josh glanced at me, and then busied himself with tightening the laces on his shoe. When he straightened, his face drained of all color.

“Excuse me,” was all he said before he rushed out the gym doors.

Leah met my eyes, and we both laughed.

“I hope he makes it to the bathroom,” Leah said. She rubbed my arms. “Are you ok?”

Dancing solos that morning had helped me release most of my nervous energy, and outwardly, I felt strong and ready. Inside, my emotions were a wreck. I had hoped to fix things between Josh and me before the duet. I didn’t know how to dance with him upset at me. I studied my own shoes. “I’m fine.”

Leah dipped her head down until I met her gaze. “Josh really cares for you—you know that don’t you?”

The knot in my stomach loosened. Warmth crept through my body, flooding my senses. Despite the icy front Josh put up, I knew that Leah was right. “Yes, I know.”

Leah hugged me. “Good luck. You are an amazing dancer, and a beautiful person.”

I hugged her back. She caught my hand.

“Keep an eye on Rourke, won’t you?” Leah took a step back, clutching her purse. “I’m concerned about him. He keeps talking about leaving.” She hugged her arms around herself. “I’m worried that he’s sick and doesn’t want to tell me.”

So Rourke hadn’t told Leah. My heart ached for her. I didn’t know how I could comfort her without giving her false hope. In just a few days Rourke would be gone, and Leah would be alone again. The loss would be as hard as any death.

I didn’t blame Rourke. What would he tell her—that he was leaving her to go to another world? I wished it could be different for them.

“I’ll do what I can,” I promised.

Leah smiled. “Thank you. Now line up. They’ll be calling you onstage any minute.”

Josh met me at the door, his face still pale.

The woman with a clipboard tapped my shoulder and gestured to where the other duet pairs stood near the edge of the curtain. “Line up, please.”

A jolt of adrenaline pumped through my arms and legs. I grabbed Josh’s hand and we lined up behind the others. Applause rang through the gym as the reel special ended and the dancers took a final bow. Josh dropped my hand. I looked up into his nervous face.

“There’s something I want to tell you,” I began.

“I won’t forget the leap at the end of the first step.” His voice was even and flat.

“That’s not it. I’m sorry that I’ve been so awful to you. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” I searched Josh’s face. He avoided my eyes.

“Well, I guess we can put this misunderstanding aside then.”

“Yes, I’m so glad.” It wasn’t until his eyes, hard and glittering, settled on mine that I realized I wasn’t getting through to him.

The line moved forward, and we walked to the curtain. I laced my fingers through Josh’s, pulling on his arm to make him look at me again. “You don’t understand.”

And then we were onstage, with hundreds of pairs of eyes trained on us. I pasted a winning smile on my face. Josh squared his shoulders.

The audience hushed, and the adjudicator nodded her head to the violinist, who picked up her bow.

The girls in the Tweedledum costumes went first. They were quick and funny, adding in hand movements and hard shoe steps that were not allowed in the more rigid solo dancing. The audience loved them, and they were still clapping when the next duet took the floor. The black dresses danced a more traditional dance in soft shoe with a showy flair. Only the cat couple was left to dance before us. I clung to Josh’s hand, my heart beating so hard I could hear it over the music. It couldn’t wait—I had to tell Josh now, before we danced.

“Josh,” I hissed, my mouth still smiling. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. I turned my head away from the dancers to face him, not caring if the judge saw me.

“I need you to know something.”

He glanced at the judge. “Not now.”

I took a deep breath. If Josh wouldn’t listen to what I had to say, I would just have to show him.

The cat dancers bowed and we walked to the center of the stage. Near the curtain, Rourke stood next to Leah, his eyes focused on the two of us. All our months of training would come down to this performance. But my goals had changed, and I no longer cared if we took first place. I just wanted to apologize to Josh, and tell him how much he meant to me. I snuck a last look at him, but he was still focused on the judge.

The music began, a light, fast reel that was entirely at odds with how I felt. I counted the beats in my head, and we broke away toward separate corners at the back of the stage, each of us doing our own simple treble reel step. I smiled, trying to pull emotion from inside of me and push it into my dance. My steps rang out, loud and clear, but I felt flat and empty.

I circled to Josh and stood, one hand on my hip, watching as he began his solo. He turned to me, but his eyes were on his feet as he went through the motions. He glanced up only once, and a flash of hurt radiated through me, striking me to the center. I ached with the pain I had caused him.

Just before he gave the floor back to me, I closed my eyes, focusing on the part of me that held emotions for Josh. I knew in my heart that I didn’t want to be without him, and I willed that feeling to flow from me toward him on the stage. My feet began to move, clicking out a syncopated rhythm that strengthened me with each step.

Josh joined me in the center of the stage and we moved side by side, each of us still dancing our own version of the treble reel. I turned my head to him and willed him to look at me, but he gazed straight ahead, focusing on the footwork.