Not only did Zoe make walk inside The Rolling Pin, she made me stay the whole three hours. Every time I complained she pursed her lips disapprovingly and started another lecture about how I couldn't let Paige and Co. click me out, I couldn't let them derail my plan, etc., etc. So I was stuck there, gaining my body weight in pastries just so I had something to do.
Six thirty inched around, and then I was free. I already had on my leotard and tights underneath my street clothes, so all I had to do was cross the street to Ambler and warm up before class at seven. And since Paige and her minions had left me alone for the past few hours (other than the sticky situation with Riley), I could only hope she'd do the same for the rest of the night.
The only person in the dressing room was Becca, who was laying on the cracked tile in a middle split as she texted. When I stepped inside she shot me a friendly smile before going back to her phone.
Becca and I could have probably been friends, but she didn't like to choose sides in the war against the Clique. She hung out with her boyfriend Finn pretty much 24/7, and everyone left her alone. It was a fair compromise. I totally would've taken that deal if they'd offered it to me.
The silence was kind of awkward as I peeled off my sweatpants. Becca tossed her phone into her bag and started pulling her curly dark hair into a bun. As she stabbed her head with bobby pins, I put on my toe pads, watching the door in case Paige walked inside.
"Got any extra bobby pins?" Becca asked after a few minutes, startling me.
"Yeah. Here." I pulled the Ziploc out of my dance bag and passed it over. She took a few and handed it back. Then I finished getting ready double-speed, to escape this half-friend situation and to make it out alive before Paige arrived.
I was successful avoiding conflict until halfway through class. I'd minded my own business throughout barre work, sentenced to my isolated spot next to Coral. We'd shared a smile over something Mrs. Ava had said, which counted as quality bonding for me. Then our teacher dismissed us for a break in between barre and center, and the trouble began.
The dressing room between barre and center was like the watering hole in a savannah: everyone gathered in one spot, all at once, sweaty and exhausted and ready to pounce. No thank you.
Tuesday night classes were made even worse by the fact that we had a joint Level 9/10 class in Studio B at the same time as us, so we usually ran into them in the dressing room. The most problematic Level 9 girl was Mindy Greene, who had a habit of going head-to-head with Paige at the most inconvenient times.
Today was no exception. I counted how many sips of water I took (five) before the drama began.
"I didn't see you in rehearsals Saturday," said Paige, calling to Mindy over everyone else in the cramped room. "Were you sick?"
"No. I was touring colleges. You know, because I'm a senior in high school? I have other things to worry about besides my local studio's Nutcracker."
"Right. Because you weren't good enough to get into a ballet program."
I bit my lip and capped my water bottle. It was true: academics were second place to everyone here at Ambler, the backup option. Except maybe Jordyn, but she hardly counted. She was a cunning, cruel genius.
"I didn't try. I woke up one day and realized ballet isn't for me."
Paige shrugged. "Guess that's why I'm Clara and you're the understudy."
"Look." Mindy hip-checked Finn, who whistled and stepped aside, so she could get closer to Paige. "I'm getting kind of sick of fighting with someone five years younger than me. You've got a lot to learn, honey. You're not worth my time. Don't bother me anymore, okay?"
Ouch. Paige hated being irrelevant more than anything.
"Five years younger and still better at dance? That's pretty sad."
"You don't get it, do you? I don't care."
We were definitely over our designated two minute water break. Mrs. Ava would not be happy. I shut my locker and began picking my way through the crowd of pointe shoes, dance bags, and bodies back to the hallway, but a cold hand grabbed me by the arm. Talon-sharp nails dug into my bicep.
"Take Ever for example," said Paige brightly. "She knows her place in the studio. Stuck in Level 8 forever. She's acknowledged her failure five years sooner than you. At least you know."
I shook myself out of her grip. "No, you don't know. Just wait."
Mindy snorted. "Wow, Paige. You should be terrified."
The only time Mindy and Paige united was when it was to terrorize someone else. They were polar opposites: Mindy was blonde-haired, with a pointy nose and beady blue eyes. Paige had brown skin and dark, petite features, with perfectly plucked eyebrows that arched to punctuate her threats. Unfortunately for me, she was really pretty.
Paige's point was made. She released me and I finished my obstacle course into the hallway, arriving into Studio C just as Mrs. Ava was shutting the door. All the unproblematic people—Becca, Finn, Coral, and even Riley—were already inside, stretching or working on their spot for pirouettes. What did I have to do to be included in that club?
Riley was probably right: Paige must have targeted me because she was jealous or threatened. But why? I knew I wasn't the best. That was pretty obvious by the embarrassing Nutcracker cast list. She was better than me in literally every way.
"All right!" exclaimed Mrs. Ava, striding back to her chipped blue stool in the corner. "Since nobody else cares to join us, we're going to begin with an adage. Start fifth position croisé, please."
The door creaked open and Paige poked her head in. "So sorry, Mrs. Ava," she said. "The line for the water fountain was really long."
Oh, boo hoo.
Mrs. Ava nodded curtly as Paige and her minions slunk inside. "We're doing adage—you haven't missed anything."
She showed us the combination and then we marked it with music. Adage wasn't my strong suit—my extensions weren't as high as Lauren's or as rock-solid as Riley's—but it was better than turning. When Mrs. Ava asked us to split into two groups I volunteered to be in the first. At least I could fake confidence.
Behind me, Summer rolled her eyes—she'd opted to play it safe in the second group. Mrs. Princeton started the music and I grounded my fifth position into the floor, determined not to think of anything other than the combination in front of me.
It came to me like second nature. A developpé to the front, my leg above ninety degrees. I focused on my turnout as I slid it through first position and into arabesque. Then I couldn't help it—I glanced in the mirror and saw that Paige's leg was way higher than mine. I cranked mine up, wincing as it pinched my back. I'd definitely have to work on that.
Plié, pas de bourrée. Renversé. I pressed my lips together as my leg made a full circle—higher, higher—before curving into attitude.
"Good work, Jordyn. Becca, don't go into attitude too soon."
Mrs. Ava prowled the room, pausing to watch me as I moved into a penché. Her eyes on me made me want to do even better. My supporting leg wobbled in my pointe shoe but I kept my balance steady, shooting for a hundred eighty degree extension. Close, but not there yet. Something else to improve.
"Good, Ever. Stretch out your front arm more. Add some dynamic in your port de bras."
I took that correction and applied it to my balancé. Then we started over, except this time I had to do the combo on my worse side.
I didn't do that awful to my right, and then we swapped groups. I watched Riley, Finn, Summer, and Coral in the second group, but Riley was easily the best and I had trouble taking my eyes off him. Guys were often so much better at jumps and turns, but he was graceful enough that he made adage look good, too.
"All right, good work!" called Mrs. Ava. "We're moving onto pirouettes now, sticking in our same two groups."
Ugh. I definitely would have rather stuck myself in the second group for turns.
It wasn't that I was horrible, I just wasn't as good as everyone else. Riley and Finn were natural turners, which served them well as guys. Paige, who was an expert at everything, could pull off four rotations like it was nothing. Everyone else fell into comfortable triples.
Me? I could pull off a triple on a good day. I just hated it. Hated taking off, not knowing if your balance would be good enough, not knowing if you'd topple or roll over an ankle on pointe or land steadily. Turning was a big fat I don't know, from the moment you started to the moment you finished, hoping you stuck your ending position with enough bravado to make the whole thing look good.
Mrs. Ava didn't care that turning kind of terrified me. She made me shoot for triples and sometimes even more if she was in an ambitious mood.
Today, she blessed us with her generosity. "Shoot for however many rotations you can fit into the counts," she said after she gave us the combo. "I'm looking for clean, sharp turns. Feel free to push yourself, but don't do so at the expense of losing your timing."
Perfect. A free ticket to sticking with safe doubles, maybe a triple to my left if I felt confident.
Then we were back in our two groups, and the music started again. I tried to focus on the combo, but Riley and Summer were murmuring in the corner—Mrs. Ava was giving Paige a correction and couldn't see them. Riley's eyes flicked over to me and then he turned back to Summer to say something else.
Shoot, everyone else was turning. What count were we on? I dared a glance at Mrs. Ava, who was still distracted by Paige. Maybe she hadn't seen me totally blank out. I pulled up into a double, spotting the exit sign reflected in the mirror, and slid down to fifth. Easy enough. Now had that been the first or second turn of the combo?
"Ever, figure it out!"
Mrs. Ava's attention had switched from Paige to me, as had everyone in the back watching. Of course. I watched Paige in front of me as she pulled up and whipped out a quadruple, then tried to mirror her. I made it around three times and slid down shakily into fourth.
I managed to regain my composure and wing it the rest of the combo, but embarrassment still made my cheeks flush. I couldn't afford to get distracted anymore.
As she switched groups, Paige locked eyes with me. Her eyes screamed Poor thing. Suddenly I hated her condescending, superior face with all my guts.
"Second group, let's go!"
Class went on without me, not caring if I was focused or not. That's exactly how life as Ambler felt. Like the world kept on spinning, not even slowing down when I was clinging on for dear life about to vomit.
A/N: This is a rewrite of the Ballet Blog series & is replacing them on my Wattpad. However, you can read all 9 Ballet Blog books & advance updates for my rewrite (for free!) at my website, https://selenabrookssbb.wixsite.com/justsel (also linked in my bio).