One Perfect Pirouette (3 page)

chapter 3

I jumped and banged my head on the window frame. I turned slowly, expecting to see a policeman, but in front of me was a tall, skinny boy with olive skin and huge brown eyes. His clothes hung off him and he carried a basketball under his arm. For a moment, I couldn't speak.

‘I'm, ah, just, you know …'

‘You go to this school?'

‘No. Well, not yet. I start on Monday.'

He nodded. ‘Mm-hmm.'

‘Do you?'

‘Last year I did. Now I go to the high school – over there.' He pointed vaguely over his shoulder. ‘You weren't thinking of breaking in, were you?'

‘No!' But my face grew hot.

He bounced the ball a few times and dribbled it round in a circle, keeping low. He moved so gracefully, I couldn't help asking, ‘Do you dance?'

‘Why do you want to know?' He held the ball against his chest and stared at me.

‘Because I do. Dance, I mean. And you looked, you know, like you did, too.'

He laughed softly. ‘I dance with my ball. We're partners. We never step on each other's feet.'

‘Do you live round here?'

‘Why?' His suspicious face was back.

‘Curious – that's all. I've only just moved here.'

‘Where did you come from?'

‘Bendigo.' I pulled a face. ‘It's a big town, but we lived outside it, in the country, in my nan's old house.'

‘Uh huh.' He bounced the ball again. ‘You want to shoot some hoops?'

‘Against you? You're way taller than me. It's not fair.'

He grinned. ‘I give shorties a five-point start.'

‘Okay, you're on.' I didn't tell him that I played against my two older brothers all the time and had learnt some pretty sneaky moves. We walked past the classrooms to the asphalt court, where one lone hoop hung crookedly from a backboard and the lines on the black surface were so faded I could hardly tell where they started and ended.

‘Not really an NBA court,' he said.

‘As long as the hoop's the right height. Do I get the ball first?'

He sighed. ‘I suppose so.'

‘Hey, I don't even know your name.'

‘Ricky. What about you?'

‘Brynna. Now, prepare to lose.' I bounced the ball and spun round, dribbling it past him and up to the hoop. The ball teetered on the rim – and fell in. One to me! I skipped back, grinning.

‘Prepare to suffer' he said, taking the ball and moving around me so fast I didn't even have time to get my hand out. The ball bounced off the backboard and went in.

‘Hmm, six-one' I said.

Six was all I was going to get. Ten minutes later, he'd won fifteen-six.

‘Hey, you're really good' I said. ‘Are you going to be a professional player one day?'

‘You've got to be kidding.' He checked his watch. ‘I'd better go. I've got to meet my brother.'

‘Well, maybe I'll see you around sometime.'

‘Maybe.' His brown eyes flashed. ‘Or I'll see you at high school.'

‘If I last here that long.'

‘Me, too.'

Before I could ask him what he meant, he waved and loped away with the ball tucked under his arm. The winter sun cast long, chilly shadows across the court and I shivered. Time to go home.

As I shut the front door of our poky old house, Mum yelled, ‘Is that you, Brynna? I need you to help with the vegetables.'

Wasn't anyone else home? Through the window, I could see Tam outside with Dad, talking. Tam was scowling – it seemed like years since I'd seen him smile. ‘How come he doesn't have to help?'

‘He's busy.' Mum handed me a peeler. ‘Do those spuds, will you, and some carrots?'

Peeling. I hated it. My brothers ate enough potatoes to fill a truck and, on the rare occasions we bought fish and chips for tea, we had to buy ten dollars worth of chips to fill them up! I scraped, rinsed and peeled as fast as I could.

‘What's Tam talking to Dad about?' I said.

‘Never you mind.'

That meant Tam was in trouble, probably for his bike. I wasn't going to feel guilty about that – he did it back home, too, and Dad was always threatening to take the bike off him.

The front door slammed and Orrin staggered into the lounge room. He collapsed on the floor, puffing like a steam train. After a few minutes, he came into the kitchen and opened the fridge door. ‘Who drank all the Coke?' he demanded.

‘You did, this morning,' Mum said. ‘And you should be drinking water after a training run, anyway. Hop in the shower – dinner'll be ready soon.'

Orrin shook sweat onto me as he headed for the bathroom. I jerked back, yelling, ‘Gross!' and Mum laughed. I said, ‘I thought it was too late for him to try out for the local footy team.'

‘Your dad found someone to put in a good word for him. He's allowed to go to training, but he won't get a game unless he can prove himself.'

‘He was Best and Fairest for the Redbacks last season.'

‘Doesn't count for much down here. He'll have to start from scratch.' Mum stirred a large pot of mince on the stove. ‘It'll be good for him, though. He needs something to focus on – and that isn't going to be schoolwork.'

Half an hour later, we were all sitting round the table, eating and talking over each other. I was telling Dad about my dance class and Orrin was telling Mum about the local footy team and how he'd been talking to the coach. Tam sat in silence, shovelling food down his throat, his eyes on the plate. It was like there was a little black thundercloud hovering over his head and everyone was doing their best to ignore it.

‘There's going to be a special intensive class,' I said to Dad, ‘but I won't be able to do it.'

‘Why not?' Dad asked.

I glanced at Mum and she frowned. ‘You've got enough to worry about without taking on an extra class already.'

My grip on my fork tightened and I thought about backing down, but instead I sat up straight, ready to fight. Too bad if Mum was mad at me again. ‘I came here to improve as much as I could and have the best chance at the audition. If Ms Ellergren's running a special class, shouldn't we consider it?'

‘And what do you think another class will cost?' Mum said, clanking her knife on her plate.

‘More money than we've got,' Tam piped up.

Dad's glare silenced him. ‘How much is this extra class?' he said.

‘I don't know.' I held my breath. Dad was strict, but he was also practical.

‘I haven't asked,' Mum said. ‘What's the point? We can't afford it. We'll be doing well to buy her new shoes, let alone anything else.'

‘Let's find out before we make any decisions.' Dad piled more potatoes onto his plate. ‘No sense saying yes or no when you don't know what it's all about, is there?'

Mum just shoved her chair back, grating it across the lino, and stood up. ‘Orrin, you're on dishes tonight.'

‘Righto.'

I didn't dare raise anything more to do with dancing, even though I wanted to ask Dad where I could practise. After the table was cleared, I went out to the garage and scuffed my runners along the concrete floor. Definitely no good for ballet. But I'd seen a shed in the backyard that had all kinds of junk in it, including some rolls of old lino. Those were worth checking out.

I could hardly get the shed door open: it hung from one hinge and everything inside was coated in thick dust. I shuddered as I pulled the rolls out and folded back their edges until I found one that had a smoother finish; I dragged it out onto the lawn and unrolled it. It wasn't as big as I'd hoped – only about three metres square – but big enough for barre and centre practice.

Dad had put his feet up in front of the telly and I hated to disturb him, but he was the only one I could really ask for help. Mum was in their bedroom, rubbing liniment on her leg. It often ached at nights, but if we asked her how bad it was, she'd brush us off.

I leant against the lounge-room doorway, pretending to watch the news and shifting from foot to foot.

Dad sighed. ‘Yes, Brynnie, what is it?' When I asked him to help, he heaved himself off the couch and followed me outside. ‘What's the lino for? Was it in the shed?'

‘Yes. Is it okay to use it? I know the stuff in there doesn't really belong to us.'

‘I'm sure the old girl who used to live here wouldn't mind, if she knew about it. Which she doesn't, because she's dead.'

‘Oh. When did she die?'

‘Dunno. We got the rent cheap because her family couldn't be bothered cleaning the place up.' He rubbed his face. ‘So where were you planning to put this? There's no room in the house.'

‘I thought maybe the garage – if you could move the car back a bit.'

‘Hmph. Tam's already been in strife for leaving his bike in there. What'll he think if I let you put this down?'

‘But this isn't a bike; it's flat. Anyway, I'll lift it up each time I've finished and put it in the shed again. I promise.'

Dad eventually agreed and moved the car back, then helped me brush the lino off before laying it down. ‘You'll need a brick on each corner to hold it flat. It's still got a curl in it.'

I couldn't wait to get started, even though it was nearly dark. I borrowed a chair from the kitchen, put on my ballet shoes and launched into barre exercises. The small square of lino wasn't perfect, but it was better than concrete, even for centre practice. But once I'd done twenty minutes of each, I had to stop. There was no room for anything else, not even a small jeté. I sagged, disappointed and frustrated, wanting to throw the lino in the rubbish.

Mum's shadow moved across the kitchen window blind and she called to Dad, ‘What on earth is Brynna doing out there?'

I lifted my arms in answer, into a slow port de bras. I'm doing what you said, Mum! I'm being determined, no matter how hard it is.

The school hall. I stopped, arms rounded above my head. Fifth position, en couronne.

On Monday, I needed to see if I could get that window open and sneak in after hours. Otherwise I was going to get further and further behind in dance class. And how was I going to find out more about the special class? I was itching to ring Ms Ellergren, but I knew I wouldn't be allowed. I'd have to wait.

chapter 4

Sunday dragged. Orrin went to the footy with Dad, Tam was glued to his PlayStation all day, Mum cleaned and cleaned endlessly. She let me catch the bus to the big shopping centre and I wandered round for a few hours. It was boring with no money to spend, but better than helping her with housework. Dinner on Sunday night was quiet, with everyone thinking about Monday – new jobs, new schools. Even Dad muttered with a frown, ‘I just hope my old work boots will pass muster at this place.'

Monday morning, I pulled on my new school uniform and stuck my tongue out at the mirror. Black trackpants, yellow top and black and yellow jacket. I felt like a bumblebee, but as I got closer to the school, I started to blend in with all the other bees. Mum said I had to go to the office first to find out where my class was, so I arrived early, hoping the office person would say, ‘Room 2463 – that way', but she didn't. She insisted on escorting me personally. I tried to hide behind her – she was a huge woman in a purple dress with bleached blonde hair – but she placed a hand on my shoulder and nudged me on ahead. It was like walking through the school with a neon sign shouting,
New kid! New kid!

When we got to the room my feet stuck to the floor, but she pushed me forward. ‘Mrs Nguyen, Brynna is joining your class for the rest of the year.'

Mrs Nguyen was tiny, only a few centimetres taller than me. ‘Welcome to our classroom, Brynna.' Her voice was quiet and musical and she showed me where to hang my backpack, then she pointed to a desk. ‘Why don't you just sit and listen for today? I imagine there will be many differences between your schools – or maybe there will be almost none?'

Was she asking me questions, or was that just the way she talked? I decided it was just her, so I nodded.

‘Very good. You have been living on a farm?'

‘It was my nan's house and there wasn't much farm left, really.'

‘You have come to Melbourne because of your father's work?'

‘No. We came so I could go to a dance school here.'

‘Ah! You are a dancer?'

I nodded again.

‘We have another student who is a dancer. Maybe you know her.'

‘I don't really know anyone just yet.'

‘You will soon,' she said. ‘The students here are very nice, very friendly.'

The bell rang, not with a shrill alarm like at my old school, but a chiming melody. It sounded nice. Maybe the whole school was like that – friendly, like she said. I sat and waited, fiddling with my pencil case and lining up my exercise books. Then I tucked my hands together in my lap and tried to breathe normally.

In a few minutes, the room was full of noisy kids, chattering and laughing as they found their seats and hung their bags up or chucked them under chairs. Most of the boys stared at me for a second or two, like they weren't that curious. The girls stared longer, and whispered to each other. My fingers were twisted together so tightly that they ached.

Like me, the others all had exercise books and pens out, ready for the first class, but I had no idea what that was. Everyone had the same books with yellow covers, but mine had pictures of ballet dancers, dogs and horses stuck all over them. Maybe Mrs Nguyen had a rule about no pictures and I'd have to buy new exercise books. Mum was going to love that!

‘Quiet, everyone.' There was an immediate hush. ‘We'll start with your book reports. But first, let us all welcome our new class member, Brynna Davies.'

Everyone turned and stared at me: twenty-three pairs of eyes zeroing in on my face. I didn't know what to do, so I smiled and gave a little wave. That got a nothing response – they all turned back to Mrs Nguyen as if, having checked me out, they'd now dismissed me. Only one girl near the front grinned and waved back, and I recognised her with a shock. It was the girl from ballet class – and I couldn't remember her name! My face burned, and I slid down in my seat.

The class continued with book reports – everyone had to talk for a minute on a book they'd read that week. When it was my turn, Mrs Nguyen said, ‘You don't have to contribute, Brynna. You didn't know it was a class assignment.'

‘Oh. Right.' My face flamed again and I wished I'd said something – anything. I'd read some books I could talk about, but my brain felt woolly, and maybe the others would think I was a try-hard.

There was plenty of time to catch up. It was only Day One. I had to chill out.

The class was nothing like my old one at Acacia Hill. Here it was a mix of all sorts of kids – Asian, Middle Eastern, Italian, Australian and two girls who looked like they were from Africa. It was going to take a while to remember all their names and pronounce them properly. Maybe the strange sandwiches Mum made me with sprouts and avocado and curried egg wouldn't get me so many funny looks here.

The book reports went on and on, with some kids sounding so vague they probably hadn't read the book. Mrs Nguyen was onto them. A couple of times she asked, ‘What is the theme of the book?' or ‘Who are the other characters in the story?' and frowned when there was no answer. While they all did their talks, I tried hard to remember that girl's name, and finally got it – Lucy.

At recess, she was waiting for me at the door. I smiled at her, glad that at least one person was going to be friendly and talk to me. I'd been dreading standing around in the playground on my own.

‘I wondered if you'd come to our school,' she said. ‘Your mum drove past us on the way home on Saturday.'

‘That's my mum – the racing-car driver.'

Lucy giggled. ‘The students at Ms Ellergren's school come from all over Melbourne. You're the only one who lives around here, though – like me.'

‘How long have you been going to Ms Ellergren's?'

‘Four years. But I started ballet classes when I was five.' We walked outside into a chilly breeze and zipped up our jackets.

‘Where do you come from?' she asked.

That question again. I explained about Bendigo, then said, ‘My ballet teacher, Mrs Calzotti, knows Ms Ellergren. I've only been dancing for three years.'

‘That's not long.' She frowned. ‘Are you some kind of star?'

Her voice had an edge to it and warning prickles ran along my arms. ‘Oh no!' I laughed. ‘Just been lucky, I guess.'

‘Does that mean you're going to be in the special class, too?' Her dark eyes glinted and I backed off even more.

‘Mum won't let me,' I said and her shoulders relaxed. I hadn't really lied, but I hadn't answered her question either. All the same, I was desperate for more information. ‘Does Ms Ellergren always have this class?'

‘No. The Ballet School auditions are only once a year – that's what the class is for. That's why it's special.'

The wind blew harder, whisking papers across the playground, and I shivered. Mum was wrong. Hearing Lucy talk about how long she'd been dancing convinced me even more that I was way behind. I'd have to practise night and day, but I knew the special class would make a huge difference. I had to get into it!

Lucy didn't notice my fidgeting. ‘Ms Ellergren won't let just anyone audition for the NBS – she says it's her school's reputation that's at stake. The special class is twice a week after school, as well as our Saturday class.'

‘Three altogether! That's a lot.' I could hear Mum's voice in my head.
And a lot of extra money.
Hunching my shoulders, I buried my hands deeper in my pockets.

‘Well, that's the minimum if you're serious.' She pulled out an apple and took a huge bite.

‘Are you going to try out?' I said.

‘What do
you
think? Mum says I'm not ready yet, but I am. And when I asked Ms Ellergren, she said I could if I wanted to.'

Two little kids were fighting over who got to go first on the slide. One pushed the other away and started climbing the ladder. Three classes a week. How much would that cost? On the other hand, it was only for a short time. Surely that would count?

‘Why won't your mum let you try out?' Lucy said.

I gazed up at the dark grey clouds, trying to decide how honest to be. What difference did it make? ‘She says we can't afford to pay for three classes a week.'

‘Oh.' She finished her apple, threw the core at the bin and missed. ‘I guess it's not worth you auditioning then. That's sad.' She didn't sound sad. Maybe she thought she'd got rid of one more competitor. I shook that thought away – it was mean.

She got up to grab the apple core and I followed her over to the bin, then we kept walking, past the playground, round the corner, past the hall. The front doors were open, but I kept my eyes off them. If I couldn't be in the extra classes, it was even more important to have a great practice space. I
had
to find one.

Mrs Calzotti had talked about what it took to dance for the National Ballet: the training and audition to get in, the technique and strength, the burning desire you had to have, the commitment. Some kids went as full-time students in Year 8 and studied school subjects as well as ballet, but many were accepted before then and went part time to after-school classes. The National Ballet was my dream and it kept me practising every day, even when I was tired out from school.

There had to be a way to change Mum's mind about the class! Although getting Dad onside often didn't work. I'd have to think about it some more.

As we walked back past the hall, the open doors were really tempting. I could at least check out what was in there. ‘I need to go to the loo,' I said. ‘Can I go in the hall?'

‘Um, sure, I guess so.' Lucy looked puzzled, but said she'd wait for me.

I scooted inside and went through the doorway into the assembly hall. It was gloomy and one side was full of stacked chairs, but it was definitely big enough. Excitement bubbled up inside me. It'd be perfect! I raced into the girls' bathroom, unlocked the window behind the last toilet in the row of cubicles, flushed and ran out again. Huddled against the wind, Lucy and I kept walking.

‘Did you move down to Melbourne just for Ms Ellergren's school?' she said.

‘Yes. And my whole family came too.' Again, I held back from mentioning the NBS audition as the real reason. Instead I told her about Tam hating me, and Mum and Dad and the old rundown house we were renting.

‘Your family has weird names.'

‘Mum says they're traditional family names, from Welsh and Celtic ancestors.'

Ahead of us, two girls sat in the corner out of the wind. One of them held a ball that she bounced between her legs. Lucy pointed. ‘There's Jade and Taylor. Jade's school captain – she knows everyone and everything. Hey, Jade,' she said, as we reached them. ‘This is Brynna.'

Jade was the one with the ball. She glanced at me and didn't say hello, then focused on Lucy. ‘Are you training tonight?'

The other girl waggled her hand at me, nails covered in sparkly green nail polish. ‘Hi, I'm Taylor.'

‘Hi,' I said.

Lucy shook her head. ‘Can't. If I fell over and got hurt, Mum'd kill me. And then I couldn't audition for ballet.'

‘Dumb dancing,' Jade said. ‘We
need
you on the team. Come on,
pleeease.
Otherwise we'll be stuck with Kelly and she's hopeless. Can't even catch.'

‘I'm sorry, I can't,' Lucy said. ‘You know it's super-important to me.'

I wondered what they were talking about. My guess was netball.

‘Thursday's the first semifinal,' Taylor said.

‘She knows that!' Jade snapped. ‘She's just being mean.'

‘I'm not.' Lucy scuffed her shoe back and forth, then she turned to me. ‘Do you play netball?'

‘No – basketball. With my brothers, mostly.'

‘That's close.' Lucy sat next to Jade, who was still pouting. ‘Brynna could play. She'd be heaps better than Kelly. Come on, you're only playing Ashfield. You'll cream them.'

‘Might not. They've got a new coach, I heard. My cousin told me.' She peered up at me. ‘Are you any good? Can you catch, at least? Defend? You must be able to defend if you play basketball.'

‘Um, yeah, I guess.' I pressed my lips together, hard, and folded my arms. I didn't want to get injured either, but I didn't want to use the same excuse as Lucy. Especially when Lucy thought I wasn't going to try to get in the class. I stared down at my feet, feeling like a bug pinned to a board.

‘She can play wing defence,' Taylor said. ‘That'd be perfect. She looks pretty tough.' She smiled at me, but I couldn't smile back. I opened my mouth and shut it again. How was I going to get out of this?

‘Ashfield is tough, too.' Jade wasn't giving me any free passes. ‘Let's see how you go first.' She stood up and walked a few paces away from us, then threw the ball at me, hard. I caught it as it hit me in the stomach.

I sucked in a breath, hands stinging, stomach sore. ‘Thanks.'

No apologies from Jade, just a slight sneer on her face. ‘Court's this way,' she said and left us to trail in her wake. I swallowed my annoyance and joined her on the lumpy asphalt court. The other end, where I'd played hoops with Ricky, wasn't so bad, but this end was cracked, with holes and bumps.

As I sized up the disaster zone they called a netball court, Jade said, ‘You gonna pass that or stand there half asleep?'

My head jerked up and I threw the ball, hard and fast, the same way she'd thrown it at me, and felt a glow of satisfaction at the surprise on her face.
Take that.
She pivoted on one foot, aimed at the goal ring and launched the ball into the air. It hit the side of the ring, teetered there for a moment, then fell backwards. My feet moved before I could think and I caught the ball, bounced it a couple of times, then looped it up and through the ring. Taylor and Lucy clapped; Jade glared at me.