November 6, 2001
In a performance there are more things to look at than just the dancers and their skills. There are backdrops to progress a story, lights that illuminate you, props and actors to fill the stage, and gorgeous costumes to hide behind.
Jaclyn took her place center stage with none of that.
The stage was bare, stripped clean of any refinery, and there she stood in a costume she pieced together herself. Eleven people occupied the empty orchestra pit, all with matching expressions of boredom.
In the seconds before her music started up until the opening notes her brief training flashed before her eyes.
The corrections, her progress, Madame's frowns that lifted with every passing day. Jaclyn could understand what was going on much better, she memorized The choreographers hand gestures to keep up with what was going on, and everyone noticed.
Her variation, The Queen of the Dryads, was something she knew like the back of her hand. It was gentle in appearance with elongated movements for her longer limbs.
For two minutes, Jaclyn plowed through the movement, breathing as if she were walking. She held her attitudes, and slowed her arm movements to make her balances appear longer. She melted into each plié before extending her leg to her ear, and her exterior remained perfectly poised even as she huffed herself into the Italian fouettes.
As the dance came to a close not a soul clapped, but still Jaclyn smiled brightly, holding her ending pose until a tiny bell rang signalling she was done.
The next girl ran out, taking Jaclyn's place. The never ending cycle of the concours, or exams.
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November 6, 2001
The bar closest to the Opera House was packed. The tables had long been cleared to create a dance floor and now all the dancers, no matter what their title, were mixed on the floor dancing.
It wasn't a bar packed with strobe lights and pounding speakers. No, it was a small hole in the wall decorated with yellow tinted lights and polished wood accents that made it look like something out of a fairytale. There were different musicians taking turns playing jazz, classical, a mix of the two.
"This is my year," Ellie, one of the older soloists who had taken Jaclyn and Alice under her wings, declared throwing her head back downing a shot. Her words flew out in a flurry of french, and Jaclyn nodded swirling her own alcoholic drink. She hadn't touched it yet, her american upbringing was still scolding her for considering it since she was still days from being nineteen.
Alice shrugged, "I know I am not getting promoted." Her eyes dulled almost saying she didn't truly care, but that wasn't the case she was just being realistic.
"I just want to get in."
They both turned to Jaclyn, expressions equally filled with disbelief.
"Are you joking? Ellie scoffed.
"Sadly, ladies my lovely partner tends to forget her own talent." Jaclyn felt her teeth grind, her lips curling on each other to keep her immediate insults in.
"That's alright, do you not have enough ego for both of us?" Victor laughed in response placing his hands on her shoulders which she immediately swatted away. Over the months their partnering in class improved greatly, but outside the studio their relationship was still tattered. Alice, always with annoyance, would claim it was because of Jaclyn's stubbornness.
Like magnets his hands fell to her shoulders again. And again she brushed them away. "Do you not have anything better to do?"
"Clearly you don't want me around, Bo."
"Don't call me that," she turned to glare at him and the use of his newest nickname for her, "and when do I ever want you around?"
He laughed in response swatting her back like a pestering older brother. Then like a switch he turned to her friend "Alice," he slurred, backing away head tipped down.
"Victor," she tossed her hair back, black eyes alight once again. While Jaclyn glowered stuck between their constant flirting. There were so many guys Alice could like why did it have to be Victor?
"Never have I ever wished for someone to just poof out of existence." Finally, Jaclyn took a sip of her drink, which went down with much difficulty.
Ellie laughed her voice like air, "that's sad," and when Jaclyn turned to her eyebrows rising up her forehead, and glass now forgotten she continued. "Because he's so smitten with you."
For being as dark as she was Alice paled. For no reason, in Jaclyn's professional opinion. Everyone believed their to be something brewing between her partner and her, but not only could they not stand each other, he wasn't Jaclyn's type.
Victor was brooding, cocky, and loved himself more than anyone else.
The real problem was Alice liked him, the reasons were still unknown, but everytime anyone mentioned how well Jackie and Victor attracted she became rather silent.
From Jaclyn's point of view they did nothing but repel.
"Oh, he likes to flirt," she finally commented still uneasy even as
Alice gave her a very false grin.
If Ellie could sense the rising tension that neither girl knew how to get rid she didn't say anything, but pulled them up from their corner table and out onto the dance floor.
It was a storm of movement and once her feet connected with the floor Jaclyn got wrapped up in moving. Again, it wasn't typical club grinding, but artists making movement with steps they used every day to very up tempo music. Jaclyn found herself moving along with the others, everything washing away as the sound of fast cello music fled her ear drums accompanied by the dancers hoots of joy and howls of laughter.
Her feet did small flicks her arms reaching out as her ribcage splayed with her head tilted up. It didn't matter though. It wasn't about technique, that had been the morning, tonight was about chances. This would be the one time during the season where all of them stood on the same playing field, their fates and careers undecided.
A girl pulled Jaclyn up onto the bar which had been cleared, and she found Alice and took her with her. They danced jumping out and in in circles, chugging across the counter, and prancing around each other. In her peripheral vision she could see arms outstretched, and seeing the other girls fall back Jaclyn gracefully descended from the bar into the arms of who she assumed was a stranger.
The second she saw his face she scowled, and he mockingly mimicked her.
"Can I not escape you?"
"It seems you cannot," Victor laughed dryly, but before she could escape he started turning around the room. The artist in her responded molding into a shape easier for him. Their eyes never disconnected, both harsh and shuddering glares.
It wasn't like dancing with Thomas where they had made a form of communication dancing with another. Victor and her almost fought each other, trying to see who would out last in the race. It was movement filled with fire and a desire to prove something. They were clear opposites, but met in this middle ground and somehow worked it out.
She was still fields of flowers, dancing as if she were glass, and he was the willful and unruly child threatening to break her with his abrupt steps and accents.
They could dance together, they did well together with no words, but anyone could see it was a fire fizzling out. A partnership that would end in embers.
She then thought of all her relationships, all the ones that could last, and maybe Victor and her could be friends. Despite what everyone saw Jaclyn knew he was not for her, but maybe that was because she had someone else in mind.
As the song came to a close the tempo immediately shifted to something much slower, and Jaclyn pulled away glaring into his suggestive expression.
"Always a pleasure, Bo."
An insult was on the tip of her tongue, but he pressed back into the other dancers and vanished before she could say it. She was left alone on the dimly lit floor, surrounded by silhouettes of dancers glowing in orange light.
Jaclyn didn't waste any time in escaping outside. Something was on her mind.
She swung the door open dropping her head, an old habit, even though there were no more crowds of paparazzi were following her. They had lost interest the second William had found another girlfriend, which had been rather quick in her mind.
I had my first concours today, and it reminded me of this time last year when we shared everything together, before things got crazy. My birthday is also in a few days, The Philosophers Stone comes out that day so we're going to see it. I know this is random, but I'm ready. We made such great friends, and I can't lose that either.
Jaclyn sent the text before she could stop herself.
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November 8, 2001
"Mademoiselle."
Jaclyn froze knowing she was the only one left in the studio after rehearsal. The sharp heels, the manicured voice, she knew who it was before she turned around. "Madame," she said politely, dipping her head.
"I am curious, how do you view your dancing? What type of dancer do you see yourself as?" They were oddly exposed in the Grand Hall of the Palais. It was just them, dead and silent studios and rooms confirmed that, but the whispers of that silence made her feel more exposed.
The studios and structure of the rooms were still too grand for Jaclyn to be used to. They were coveted in luxury from top to bottom with finishings of gold, paintings of performers, and ceilings that towered more than they needed too. It was still too large for a girl like her.
"Well, people-"
"I asked about you, mademoiselle," Madame stopped her. There was ice in her light eyes. People in France, or at least the dancers, seemed larger than life. Every step, every look had intention behind it. She needed Jaclyn to find that voice for herself, find out how to use her presence to show her power, show that she was strong.
Jaclyn balked the slightest, "Oh." How was she supposed to answer that? Was she allowed to think things of herself, was that not conceited? "I suppose I see myself as graceful, or soft."
The older woman nodded, crossing her arms over her ruby red suit jacket, "Very graceful, but you may also say... Breakable."
It was impressive Jaclyn was able to hold herself up at all. With her concours going well enough to get her into the company Jaclyn believed they thought her an admirable dancer. It was just criticism, which was fundamental to a performers career, but it wounded. Jaclyn nodded, hoping to hide the quiver in her lips. She believed to be passed all of this, but now she felt like she had gone nowhere.
"You do parts like Giselle or Juliet very well," Madame continued making no note of Jaclyn's sudden shock, "But etolies need more. What happens when the role is Esmeralda with her fire and charisma, or Odile with her maturity and venom?"
"Should I change how I perform?" Even with the stutters, and trembles, and shakes ravaging her from the inside Jaclyn managed to be poised containing any betrayal of that to her eyes. Even her question was said in smooth tones of a mature young woman.
"Why not do both? Most dancers are scared to be vulnerable, but you wear it with ease. You almost appear to be scared of being confident. It is one thing to make sometones heart break for you, and it is another to make them root for you." Madame's lips betrayed her, showing off the slightest of smiles. Her words were harsh because she believed in Jaclyn, no one ever made it big by being coddled. She wanted to see how far the girls limits reached in her talent.
"Trust me, there is more grace in strength and confidence than you know."
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I just wanted to let you guys know that I'm heading back to school on Monday, so my updates may become less frequent for the next three and a half months. I'm going to try to stick to a schedule of once a week or every other week, but I'm going to have a lot going on this semester so no promises.
Anyways, what do you guys think Victor's nickname for Jaclyn stands for? Honestly if you guys guess then I must not be a sneaky as I think I am 😂
Tell me what you think of this chapter, love you all!