“Now, pirouette, step-ball-change, step-ball-change, leap – no, remember to split your legs more– turn with you partner, then finish.”
Thirty guys in leotards and leggings all ended in perfect poses, their legs, head and arms all in exactly the same positions. Apart from one. Well, maybe not since I wasn’t really a guy, so maybe I didn't count.
“Excuse me,” I said, putting my hand up, like an idiotic middle school kid. “I didn’t really get that bit.”
“From where did you feel lost?”
From the beginning.
“Oh, just from the spinny bit.”
“Pirouette?”
“Yeah. The Pira…pira…egg.”
“Pirouette.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I think everyone else is done with that bit. Maybe you could stay here for several minutes, so I can train you?” NO! Hell NO! I’m not spending a single minute longer in this dance studio, not when I’ve just spent two periods locked in this room with this stupid hyperly-excited teacher!
A couple guys glared at me (the gay ones. Not that being gay was wrong), and were clearly thinking, “How could Juliet be so crap? I would make a much better Juliet!”
“Don’t worry about it, sir.” There was a hand on my shoulder, squeezing a bit too hard to be truly comforting. “I’ll teach him.” I looked up, at Daniel’s face. What he being nice to me? I turned away again, to look at the teacher.
“Fine,” he said, waving a dismissive arm at me. Of course he did – Daniel was acing Dance class – he looked like some sort of Greek God, with his strong arms, but unfairly graceful movements. I hated that he was so perfect. “You guys can have the dance studio all break.”
I looked back at Daniel, kind of shocked he’d done that for me.
“We’re going to have so much fun,” he whispered, right into my ear. It could have been sexy, but he way he said it raised goosebumps – and not the good kind, either. He was so going to have fun – bullying me. I can’t believe I didn’t realize that.
I’m such an idiot.
***
“Alright, raise your leg. Raise. Higher. Higher. Higher!”
“I’m trying!” I yelled, tears forming at my eyes. Bloody hell, this hurt. I’m pretty sure he was doing this just to torture me. Did he really hate me that much? “It’s hard!”
He put his hand under my thigh, and lifted my leg up even higher.
“Fuck!” I screamed, falling over. “OW! I pulled something! Ow bloody ow OW! What did you do that for?” I glared at him.
“Sorry, sorry!” he said, biting on his lip while trying not laugh. But he did offer me a hand, which I took. “Can you walk?”
I pulled hard on his hand so I was vertical again, then let go. I put some weight on the bad leg.
“Nope,” I said, falling down again, semi-pulling him down too.
“I’ll get you to the infirmary,” he said, pulling me up, and looping one of my arms around his neck. “Come on, let’s go.” We made a few staggering steps before I said something utterly stupid.
“Why do you hate me?”
He looked at me. I suddenly remembered – I’d asked him the exact same thing as “Erica”. Would he realize…I prayed that the whole “massive star” thing made him obnoxious and dumb, like most other celebs.
