One Perfect Pirouette (6 page)

‘I know that.' I knew she was trying to help, but this was all stuff I'd heard from her before.

‘You have to totally believe in yourself, in what you want, what your dream is. You have to pursue that dream, no matter what.' She bit her lip. ‘I thought coming down here would strengthen your resolve.'

‘Why do you think I sneaked into the school hall? I really wanted to practise properly. That audition's only a few weeks away.'

‘I know. And we're doing all we can to get you there, but – you seem to want to be in this special class so everyone'll think you're worth it. But you're the one who needs to feel that worth. That's the bit we can't do for you. Nobody can.'

‘You think I don't believe in myself?' Why she was saying all this? Again! Something did stir inside me, though.

‘So far, yes.' She sighed. ‘But things will get harder, you know – not easier. There'll always be people who are jealous, or who'll try and make you do what they want. You might even find one or two who'll do anything to stop you.'

‘How can they stop me getting into the Ballet School? You just said it was up to me, to believe in myself, no matter what.'

‘Yes, but –' Her face was drawn, her eyes dark, and she massaged her leg absent-mindedly.

‘Is there something you're not telling me?'

She pressed her lips together, shook her head slightly. ‘Have you met any nice girls at school yet?'

I stretched my leg out, curved my foot into an arch and avoided her gaze. ‘I guess. One girl in my class goes to Ms Ellergren's.' Now was the time to tell her about Jade and the netball problem, but somehow I couldn't. It was as if Tam had created enough drama for one day and I could tell Mum was still feeling hurt and upset about him. So I lied. ‘Some of the other girls are friendly, too.'

A smile spread across Mum's face. ‘Good. That cheers me up a lot. Let's get dinner started, shall we?'

She levered herself up and went to the fridge; I sat and stared through the doorway at the shapes moving on the TV screen, my mind a million kilometres away.

Mum had been going to tell me something, I was sure of it, but what? Was it about money? About Tam? I shivered, wrapped my arms around myself and edged closer to the heater. Whatever it was, I wasn't going to ask right now. I had to concentrate on ballet and on proving that all this upheaval was worth it. I couldn't let the family down, I couldn't. But Mum was right. It wasn't really about them, even though I felt so guilty sometimes. It had to be my own fight, my own dedication, one hundred per cent. And I was going to make it into the ballet school if it killed me.

But it came back to the same problem – where was I going to practise? If I sneaked into the hall again and got caught, I'd be in major trouble. I'd have to go for a walk and check out the neighbourhood. Then I remembered Tam getting bashed. Maybe Dad was right. I couldn't go out walking whenever I felt like it. But who did Tam fight with? Why? Was I in danger? I followed her to the kitchen.

‘Mum, what really happened to Tam? Why would those boys attack him for nothing?'

The way she was stirring the mince was going to make a hole in the pot. ‘Tam won't say what happened – he wants to blame everyone else. I think he provoked them, at least a bit. He's angry with us and he paid out on someone else.'

‘He attacked them?'

‘No, I didn't say that. But he didn't walk away when he could have. Let's leave it, shall we? No use going over it again. We can't change it. Tam will be going back to Tony's and that'll make him happy.'

I set the table for dinner, then headed for my tiny room out the back to unpack my school stuff. My mind buzzed with everything that had happened and I kept seeing Tam's sullen face with the bruises and cuts. Well, he'd got what he wanted, so maybe it was a small price to pay.

I hoped Orrin made it into his footy team and became a big star – then he'd be happy for sure. As for me, I kept hearing Mum's words about needing to believe in myself.

I wished it was something real, like a gold charm, that I could hold onto and feel in my hand, but I knew it wasn't. Despite what Mum said, I was going to try out for that class and give it my total best. Maybe tomorrow I could find another dance space, along with a few flying pigs!

chapter 7

At school the next morning, Lucy and Jade pounced on me just inside the gates. ‘Training after school tonight' Jade said. ‘You gonna be there?'

I pulled my backpack off and pretended to adjust a strap, while my brain scrambled to find an answer. I'd pushed aside the netball team again, what with the fuss over Tam and getting into trouble myself.

‘I forgot to ask Mum' I said. ‘Sorry.'

‘You're kidding.' Jade scowled as she bounced the ball a couple of times. ‘What's the matter with you?'

‘Nothing. It was just that we –' No way was I telling them about our family problems.

Jade turned her back on me and walked away. Lucy shrugged. ‘She reckons you think you're too good for her team,' she said.

‘I don't think that. Why's everyone getting in a snit about this?'

‘We're not in a snit!' And she marched off to join Jade.

So in two days I'd gone from having at least one friend to being frozen out. No wonder Tam lost his temper. Was everyone round here like this? Josie never treated me like I had a disease.

After silent reading, we had maths and I tried hard to concentrate, but my brain churned round and round, worrying about Jade and Lucy and then zooming in again on the problem of where I could practise. I'd shoved my ballet shoes into my school bag – just in case – and it was as if they were sending me signals.
We want to get out and dance.

At recess I sat on my own and watched the other kids and knew that lunchtime would be more of the same. Nobody cared that I was lonely and missing my friends at home. Jade and Lucy only cared that I was good at netball, and if I wasn't going to help their team win, I wasn't worth hanging with. After recess, the other kids showed off their projects on sport and I daydreamt about dancing. Then I had a brainwave and, when the bell rang for lunch, I went up to talk to Mrs Nguyen.

‘Would I be able to practise my ballet in the school hall at lunchtime?'

She frowned. ‘I don't know. If there's no sport on in there, it might be all right. Shall I ask the principal?'

‘Yes, please.'

I waited with fingers crossed.

A few minutes later, she came back. ‘He says if you eat your lunch and then go to the office person, she'll make sure it's not being used. Have you been dancing for a long time?'

‘Three years. There's a special audition coming up and I haven't got anywhere to train.' I didn't tell her I'd already been in the hall.

‘Good luck,' she said.

I sat outside on the seats near the office, not wanting to waste a minute. When the second bell rang right above me, I jumped, and then raced in to see the office lady. ‘The hall's open,' she said, ‘but you'll have to make sure you're very careful in there, or we can't let you use it.'

‘I will.'

In the hall, I shut the door, turned on the lights and quickly tied up my ribbons. I only had half an hour, but it was better than nothing. Warm-up first – I didn't dare risk an injury – but then I went from barre and centre exercises straight into pirouettes. One, two, three, head up, eyes on one point. I was getting better, but I wanted to be perfect.

Before I knew it, the bell rang again – and I'd hardly even started! No time to cool down. Off with ballet shoes, on with runners, race back to class. Mrs Nguyen smiled at me as I rushed into the room and sat down, then she started talking about something in the news. My heartbeat slowed down and I listened to her for a few minutes, then my mind swung back to ballet. When I got home, I'd unroll the lino and do another hour at least. Maybe I could find an old mirror in the shed, too, and put that against the wall, or borrow the one from Mum's bedroom.

My ballet shoes were getting too small, fast. Mum had said it'd be another month before we could afford new ones and I hated to think how much pointe shoes cost. Luckily, I stopped daydreaming in time to hear Mrs Nguyen give us some homework on food groups, and after that I tried to concentrate. When the last bell rang, I leapt up, grabbed my backpack and raced out the gate. No way was I going to netball!

At home, I pulled out my shoes again, tied the ribbons and stepped onto the lino. I was so glad none of the girls from class, like the Silhouettes, could see me. For sure, they'd turn up their noses at me dancing in the garage. They probably had huge marble-floored hallways for their dancing, or maybe a dance space in their house. A whole room. How cool would that be?

As well as cleaning the lino and borrowing a mirror from Mum's room – just a small one – I'd pinched Orrin's CD player and speakers. There was so much more to being a great dancer than the steps and routines. You had to feel the music, feel the theatre of ballet, like an actor did on stage. Each ballet told a story, with music and dance, and the dancers had to be inside the music, let it flow through their bodies.

I'd put on extra layers of clothes, but still I shivered in the freezing garage. I did the best I could with the warm-up, then took off my ballet shoes and put on a pair of soft vinyl slippers. They were cheap and it didn't matter if they got scraped on the concrete. From Orrin's CD player,
Swan Lake
began to fill the air and I felt the familiar ripples inside, the notes making me want to float and twirl. I turned it up as loud as possible, then danced slowly on the concrete, not trying to copy the dancers of the real ballet. I was a swan, gliding and turning. If only I was on a polished floor and not concrete – but I wasn't going to let that put me off. I danced, almost feeling the feathery tutu dipping and swaying with me.

‘Brynna. Brynna!'

I opened my eyes.

Orrin stood in the doorway, looking grumpy. ‘You're supposed to ask before you take my CD player.'

‘Sorry. You weren't home. You can have it back now.'

‘Doesn't matter,' he said. ‘I've got footy training.'

‘Again?'

‘Made the team, didn't I?' His grin was as wide as a slice of watermelon. ‘Tell Mum and Dad I'll be home about seven, all right?'

I gave him the thumbs up and then, as he disappeared down the driveway, I went back to the music, but the feeling was gone. Didn't matter. I had lunchtime at school tomorrow to look forward to, a whole hall to myself.

Just as I was taking Orrin's CD player back to his bedroom, Mum barged in the front door. When I explained what I was doing, she sighed. ‘The room looks so bare.'

I glanced around at Orrin's school clothes and shoes and footy jumpers and books, then I realised what she meant. ‘Tam's gone already?'

She nodded, her eyes sad.

‘But he didn't even say goodbye!' My stomach churned again and I flopped down on Orrin's bed. ‘He does hate me.'

‘No, he doesn't.' Mum sat next to me and patted my knee. ‘He's an unhappy boy right now, but he'll come right. He needs to be where he feels at home.'

‘Why doesn't he feel like that with us?'

‘Tam's not a city boy, love. He never will be. You can't force someone to be something they're not, just so
your
life'll go better.'

‘I feel so bad about him getting hurt. Won't he be lonely up there without us?'

‘Maybe. I know I'll miss him – and his cranky moods.' She grinned, then her face darkened again. ‘I can't say I'm happy about it, not at all. But I'd rather he were back where he belongs, making his own way, than getting into trouble down here.' She stood up and straightened Tam's bedcovers. ‘Now, we'd better get dinner ready. I've got a physio appointment shortly.'

I gaped at her. ‘Is it your leg?'

‘It's not too bad. But your dad's talked me into having some treatment on it. Someone a mate of his at work recommended.'

This was a first. For years, Mum had pretended her leg was fine and refused to see anyone about it. She'd always said nothing would help. She pulled me up from the bed. ‘You're on rice tonight: we're having a quick stir fry. And where's Orrin?'

‘He made the team,' I said, ‘and he'll be home at seven.'

‘Did he now? I'll bet he was happy.'

‘Sure was.'

She hustled up dinner and put it on the table just as Dad walked in. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down to eat with us, his eyes crinkling over the top of his can when I told him about Orrin. And when Mum told him about her physio appointment, he laughed out loud.

‘All right!' he said. ‘Let's get the Great Davies Superstar Show on the road.' Then he stopped smiling. ‘Tam get on the bus all right?'

‘Yes,' Mum said. ‘And he was beaming from ear to ear as well.'

‘Good,' was all Dad said.

We cleaned up in the kitchen, while Mum changed her clothes and went off in the car. Dad and I watched the news together. ‘How's that lino working out?' he asked.

‘Okay. But the school says I can use the hall to practise at lunchtime.'

‘Great.'

When Orrin got back he and Dad talked footy, but when Mum limped in, everyone went quiet.

‘Has the physio made it worse?' Dad said.

‘Not really.' Mum lowered herself into the armchair. ‘I've got exercises to do. He said I need to work hard on flexibility and strength.' She waved a hand vaguely in the air, as if she was thinking about something else. ‘He said I could play again in a month or so.'

‘Play what?' I said.

‘Basketball.' Dad was nearly bouncing in his seat. ‘That's fantastic.'

‘Yeah, I guess so' Mum said. ‘Maybe I'm a bit old for that now.'

‘Now, now! You were the one who told me they had a social team at your work' said Dad.

‘Should have kept my big mouth shut.' Mum grinned. ‘Orrin, have you had your dinner yet? How did footy training go?'

‘Great! Coach says he might give me half a game on Saturday.' His hair was sticking straight up and when he ran his fingers through it, he looked even more like a rooster. ‘Where's Tam? I might be able to get him a game in the Under 15s.'

‘He's gone to Uncle Tony's' said Mum.

‘What – already? Couldn't he even wait long enough to say goodbye?' Orrin's mouth twisted. ‘What a loser.'

‘Don't you say that!' Mum snapped.

‘Oh, who cares? He got what he wanted, spoilt little toad.'

‘He didn't want to be unhappy and getting into fights down here,' said Mum.

‘No one forced him to punch that guy, Mum. I've heard other stories about what happened. Tam was looking for an excuse to ditch us.'

‘Orrin! He's your brother.'

‘You wouldn't think so, the way he was carrying on.'

Finally, Dad stepped in. ‘Tam's made his own path and he's got to live with it now. You're right – he should've said goodbye properly, not been in such a hurry to get away from us.' He pointed to the kitchen. ‘Go and eat your dinner, son, and then you can tell me more about this coach.'

Orrin headed for the microwave, but his face was sad. I knew how he felt. It was as if Tam had suddenly dumped us, as if he couldn't wait to get away. How long was it going to be before we'd see him again? A lump rose in my throat and I blinked hard. I just had to deal with it. Maybe Dad was right. Tam had gone his own way and we had to focus on what was ahead of us.

Mum sat in her armchair, doing leg lifts, talking to Dad about weights and walking every day. Was she serious about playing basketball again? She'd been really good at it before she married Dad; that's what he told me once. I'd never heard her mention it – in fact, whenever basketball was on TV, she always made sure to change the channel, as if she couldn't stand to even watch it. Now she had a sparkle in her eyes, as if all along she'd been waiting for something to change. What could it have been?