The Storm Before the Calm (5 page)

We walked down Fourteenth Street to where it intersected with Washington. On the corner was Free Rein. I blinked, trying to make sure I wasn’t imagining things, but there, on the black banner that hung vertically beside the door, the name was spelled out in white lettering. The building itself looked like it had once been a warehouse or a factory of some kind, dark bricks with large arched windows on each of the three floors. On the second floor I could see the barre bisecting the lower part of the windows. My fingers itched to curl around it, my feet automatically feeling like they needed to turn out.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, in awe that I was actually there. The whole experience felt surreal, like I was watching someone else’s life unfold in front of me.

“It is,” Ginny agreed. “And tomorrow, you’re going to be up there.”

“I still can’t quite believe it.”

“Well, believe it, Sprout. You’re going to blow them all away.”

T
HAT
NIGHT
,
after Ginny had left for work, I phoned my mom. It was difficult to pin down a few minutes that she would have free, especially with the time difference between South Dakota and New York. I dialed and waited patiently as it rang in my ear.

“Baby?” she asked when she picked up. Her voice was light with excitement.

Despite how tired I was, it filled me with energy. I hadn’t been gone all that long, but I already missed her fiercely.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, trying to keep my voice level.

“How’s New York? Did Ginny show you around? Tell me everything.”

I smiled against the phone. “New York is great. We did a dry run of getting to the studio this morning so I can find my way there on my own tomorrow. It’s actually pretty easy to use the subway here. I thought it was going to be a lot more complicated.”

“She’s not going with you on your first day?”

“She’s gone to work and won’t be back in time.”

“Well, I am sure you’re going to be fine. You’ve always been so independent and self-reliant. Even at twelve you were a better adult than I am. Are you nervous?”

“A little,” I admitted. I didn’t want her to know I was blind terrified. She was my mom, though, so she probably knew it anyway.

“You’re going to be great. You’re the best boy I know, and you’re a beautiful dancer. They’re going to take one look at you and make you the teacher.”

I laughed, feeling a bit lighter. My mom had more faith in me than she probably should have, but if I borrowed a bit of that from her, maybe I could make it through the next day without losing my composure.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Of course, Charlie. I have to go, though. I wish I could keep talking to you, but my break is over in a couple of minutes. But promise me you’ll call tomorrow night and let me know how your first day was.”

“I promise.”

“Okay, baby. Sleep tight and kill it tomorrow.”

“I will.”

“Love you lots.”

“Love you too.”

And with that, I heard the click as she hung up. I tried to keep my mom’s words with me in my head and, more importantly, close to my heart.

Chapter Five

I
WOKE
up before my alarm sounded the next morning. My body felt heavy as I lugged myself out of bed and into the shower. I hadn’t been able to sleep, too ramped up at the thought of starting the intensive. It was a lot, all at once. I was thankful Ginny had shown me how to navigate my way to the studio the day before. It was one less thing to worry about. Not that I wasn’t imagining what would happen if the subway broke down, or I got turned around coming out of the station, or if a meteor hit the tracks and I had to take a different line to get there.

The night before, so many scenarios had flung themselves around in my brain it had been difficult to quiet them down. Eventually I gave in and popped one of the airsickness pills my mom had packed for me, relying on the side effects to put me out. Now that I was conscious, though, the anxiety and worry came flooding back with far more pressure than my aunt’s gutless shower. I’d never been that great at meeting new people, and my experiences back in Beacon had left me more than a little gun-shy at the prospect of fitting in. I hoped I could fade into the background on my first day. I just needed to get my bearings.

After I’d gotten ready, spending more time on my hair than usual, I packed my dance bag with all the supplies I thought I’d need for the day and then headed out. I double-checked my pocket for my MetroCard before locking the door behind me with the extra key Ginny had given me.

I retraced my steps from the day before, walking to the Ninety-Sixth Street station. It was much busier than it had been, the rush-hour peak at full force. I squeezed my way onto the train, packing in with the other commuters. There were no seats available. With barely enough room to breathe, I hung on to the steel bar, trying desperately not to fall into the strangers crammed in around me while the train accelerated and decelerated at each station.

The farther down the island we moved, the fewer people remained. By the time the train left Penn Station, space had opened up for me to sit near the door. I sat, taking a deep breath as I tucked my feet under the bench. There were only a few stops left before mine, and the closer I got to the end of the line, the more panicky I became. My palms were sweaty, and it felt like I had pins and needles in my feet. I’d never been this nervous about dancing.

I took another deep breath and reminded myself that I was born to be here. Dancing was what I was made for, and today was going to be the first day of the best summer of my life. I just needed to embrace it. I wore my new attitude like a jacket, letting it cover me completely.

My stop was announced and I stood, then made my way off the train and up, out to the street. I remembered where I was going from the day before, and I walked down toward the studio, passing three Starbucks along the way. I was tempted to nip in for a Frappuccino but thought better of adding caffeine to the jumpiness that bubbled just below the surface.

I finally arrived at the studio. I paused, taking a moment to gather my thoughts before I pushed through the heavy glass door. There was a reception area at the very front, with a high desk made from the same black wood as the floors. Black-and-white photographs of their dancers lined the exposed brick walls. The room was lit with what looked like theater lighting, although without the same heat as the real thing.

“Welcome to Free Rein,” the blonde girl behind the desk said. “You must be Charlie Shaw. I recognize you from your video. I’m Addison, Grace’s daughter. I work here in the summer sometimes. You’re super early. No one else is here yet. I guess that means I can give you the tour before everyone else arrives. And I have some paperwork I need you to fill out for us too.”

I could barely understand what she said, the sentences pouring from her one after another with barely a pause between. I nodded. “Nice to meet you,” I said.

“Come on. I’ll show you around.” She hopped up from behind the desk and came toward me. She walked almost as quickly as she spoke.

“This floor doesn’t have any of the studios on it. The changing rooms—men’s and women’s—are here.” She paused in front of the doors, signaling which was which, but didn’t go inside. “There are showers and lockers in there for you to keep your stuff. And this is the kitchen. It has a couple of fridges, a stove, and a microwave, but there are tons of restaurants, delis, and cafes in the area if you prefer not to cook. Some of the guys eat out, but most of the women stick around. They’re watching their calories, I guess. Keeping thin. The concept has always escaped me a little.”

She looked down at herself, and the corners of her mouth dipped into a tiny frown. I had no idea what she was frowning at.

“I think you look great.”

She brightened, beaming a smile at me as she continued the tour. The rest of the first floor was reserved for offices for Grace, the owner of Free Rein, and several of the instructors. There was even a small medical bay for treating minor injuries, should they arise.

The second floor had three studios, one with a baby grand piano, and all three were equipped for classical ballet classes with mirrors along one wall, a barre stretched along the one opposite, and portable barres to create more space for students to stand in the center of the room.

The third floor was a little more unconventional. Smaller than the first two, the space was divided into two studios. The first looked much like the ones we’d already seen, with mirrors lining the walls, but off to the side, rather than barres, there were mats.

“This is the acro room,” Addison explained, leading me across the hall to the last studio. “And
this
is our pole room.”

“Pole room?” I’d never seen anything like it. Much like the other studios, mirrors flanked one side, but dotted at regular intervals throughout the room were poles. There was even a little elevated stage at the front of the room with a pole.

“You know, like pole dancing. But not the dirty kind,” Addison clarified.

“Oh.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I hadn’t known anyone to pole dance, and I certainly didn’t think it belonged in the same place as a classical ballet studio. The acro room, however… that was definitely something I could get behind.

My whole dancing career, I’d concentrated heavily on technique. That’s where everything is built from. Without that solid foundation, your dancing will crumble. I’d gotten pretty good at it too, if I do say so, and the strong technical background lent itself well to acro. I was able to bend and flip my body and make it look effortless. At least that’s what my dance teacher back home had said.

I loved the combination of dance and acrobatics. It made me feel like I was flying. I was so excited Free Rein had an acro class. I couldn’t wait to get started.

When we finished the tour, I plunked myself on one of the couches in the reception area near Addison’s desk. She was right. I had been incredibly early. She passed me the paperwork I needed to fill out—mostly in-case-of-emergency information. Slowly, people began to trickle in through the door. I stood up and handed the clipboard back to Addison, then sat back down, clasping my hands in my lap. I wasn’t sure if I should get up and introduce myself or try to remain invisible and wait. I chose the latter.

The clock above the desk clicked over, and there were only a few minutes left before class was set to start. I retreated to the changing rooms to grab my shoes and water bottle before heading to the largest studio on the second floor. It looked like everyone was gathered there by the time I arrived, most sitting cross-legged on the floor.

I took a spot near the back left corner of the room and stretched my feet out to put my shoes on. As I was tying the right one, a woman with wild, curly red hair and bright pink lipstick walked into the room and stood at the front of the class.

“Good morning, everyone. I’m Grace, the owner of Free Rein. Welcome to the summer intensive.”

Her words earned a round of applause from the students, and I joined in, catching the enthusiasm of the others.

“I see some familiar faces in the group, but for those of you who are new to us this year, a special welcome. Things run a bit differently here than at other companies, so if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask our instructors or one of our veterans. Today is going to be our taste-test day. We want you to get a little sample of everything, so we have divided you randomly into groups. Once we’re done with introductions, you can check to see who you are with and where you should be on the list posted on the door. For today, you will spend an hour in each of the classes, getting a taste of what each one is about. The only classes that are mandatory for everyone are the ballet and technique classes.

“Tomorrow you can pick up your schedules from Addison at the front desk. You’ll keep on those schedules for the remainder of the summer. Now for the introductions. This is Lily Harman. She’s our ballet expert, having performed with the American Ballet Theatre for nearly a decade. You’ll all be studying under her this summer.”

Lily waved to the class. She looked nice. Her eyes were warm, and her smile seemed genuine.

“Next I want to introduce you to Sophie Diaz. She’s in charge of our contemporary and lyrical departments,” Grace said, sweeping her arm in the direction of a thin woman with short black hair wearing purple knit shorts and a white tank.

She didn’t look much older than me. She stood casually, leaning against the mirror, her hands clasped loosely in front of her.

“And this is Gregory Kane, our resident tapper.”

The man standing to her right gave a little nod. I looked down at his feet. Red Converse sneakers rather than the tap shoes I expected to see. He oozed a suave self-confidence that made me feel insecure just looking at him. That guy had certainly never had any trouble with popularity in high school, I was sure of it.

“Sean Cranleigh will be teaching hip-hop and acro,” Grace said, turning to smile at the short man standing next to the tap teacher.

Gregory bumped Sean with his shoulder, and Sean beamed at the students.

“Gabrielle Galani heads up the jazz class.”

She was a woman in her midthirties with blonde hair streaked with blue. She wore a multitude of bracelets around her slender wrists that clinked together when she gave a little wave to the audience.

“And finally we have Isabel Shermakov, who teaches all forms of ballroom.”

She stepped forward, her flowing skirts swishing around her as she moved, and performed a small curtsey.

“We also have a few junior teachers this year, members of the company, who will be helping out in your classes.”

A group of dancers stood over to the side, three girls and two guys. My gaze landed on the man closest to Grace, and for some reason, I felt drawn to him. He was everything I wanted to be. I could tell, just from the way he was standing, that he was powerful and graceful at the same time. His dark hair, styled into a sort of Mohawk, spoke to his rebellious nature, while the way he carried himself hinted at a strict technical regimen. The tank top he wore displayed the sinewy muscles of his arms, and his shorts showed off his tight calf muscles. He was so beautiful. I was so busy watching him that I missed most of what Grace was saying.