Arabesque: A Wings Companion

Chapter Eighteen

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The tension in the air at Scazio crackled like a popping fire and seemed to burn just as hot. Rowen walked around the crowded studio in her toe shoes, keeping her stems limber, staying in motion. Mitchell, who seemed to cope with nervousness by spouting nothing but uselessly obvious advice, had chased her down and stopped her to suggest she keep moving—as if she didn't already know, wasn't already doing that, hadn't in fact stopped doing that to speak to him. Unable to get a word in edgewise, she'd finally flashed him a glare, prompting a stuttering apology—and a quick recitation of his confidence in her, which would have been more convincing if he hadn't gone on to remind her to spot during her turns, as if she'd started doing ballet yesterday.

She and Mitchell were scheduled for about halfway through the audition lineup. Rowen had tried to read some sort of meaning into it, but Mitchell insisted it was always random.

"In all my years here I've been first and I've been last, and it doesn't seem to make any difference at all. You're trying to read tea leaves."

Tea leaves? Rowen didn't ask.

The stage door opened to the sound of applause as two of Rowen's classmates burst through, grinning and breathing hard. Other students weren't permitted to watch the auditions, but family and friends had been invited to make the auditions feel more like true performances. Of course, there was no one out there to watch Rowen. She swallowed hard against the sudden disappointment that realization brought. She'd been so busy this week, going over every tiny move with Mitchell, that her personal issues had been crowded aside. Mostly, anyway. And in those rare moments she stole for herself, she'd ruminated on her kiss with Shawn—and tried not to think about the dire cautions given by her absent uncle.

Tamani had been gone since Monday morning and even though she'd sent a few texts throughout the week, he hadn't responded. Wherever he was, he wasn't getting very good cell service.

"You okay?"

Rowen glanced over at Mitchell. "What? Yes, of course."

"You stopped moving. I don't think I've ever seen someone stand so ... still."

"Sorry," she mumbled, springing back into motion. She couldn't afford to let her limbs grow stiff because she was thinking about warm lips brushing hers. "Distracted."

"I'll say." He hesitated, trotting after her, then asked quietly, "You're not going to freeze up on me, are you?"

"Please. I just ... need something to drink," she said, pivoting as though that was what had made her pause. It was true though. They'd had classes today, though their teachers hadn't pushed them too hard in light of the evening's auditions. But it was still evening, after a full day of class, and Rowen's body yearned to sleep until the sun was up again. In her bag she had a can of Sprite and one last energy potion from Laurel that she'd saved for tonight. Hopefully Tamani remembered to bring her more when he returned from wherever he was.

Rowen drank the potion first, stretching up and down on her toes as the concoction went through her with a magically invigorating chill, then started on the Sprite. Though the carbonation meant she shouldn't drink too much of the latter; how humiliating it would be to let out a belch in the middle of an audition.