"We don't get a lot of guys these days, unfortunately." Peter follows the middle-aged lady, his gaze lingering on the frames covering the hallway. Pictures of girls wearing tutus on brightly lit stages, fill the walls. The images vary from kids in regular dance wear to adult women, thin like sticks, wearing tutus with the most intricate details on them. Their make-up is intense and their smiles are beaming.
The lady walking in front of Peter quickens her pace and he follows quietly. Her heels click on the aged, tiled floor, her pencil skirt limiting the extent of her stride. She has a donut bun on her head and Peter can tell she must've been wearing it regularly her entire life, as her hairline has started receding a little. Her eyes skim some papers through a pair of tiny glasses.
"What sparked your interest to learn ballet?"
"I've always admired the physicality of ballet," Peter says without missing a beat. He practiced this. Of course, he wasn't going to tell her that Spider-Man was running out of new moves and that he needs regular practice to keep his flexibility at the right level. He had all his answers ready. She wasn't going to catch him off guard. Sure, he might as well have gone to a circus school or find somewhere he could practice gymnastics, but somehow all of those skills also require knowledge of ballet. Might as well start with the basics, right?
The lady, who had previously introduced herself as Madame Touha stops in her tracks and looks back at Peter.
"The physicality?"
"Yes, uh- the fact that you can make it look easy but it never is? Flexibility and strength, that kinda stuff."
"You can learn that with any type of dance." Madame Touha squints and leans closer. "You are hiding something." Peter presses his lips on top of each other. How did she already see through him? What is he supposed to say now? Of all the scenarios he planned, he somehow didn't plan for a lady with a lie detector. He didn't exactly lie, but he wasn't telling the truth either. Obviously, he's hiding something. He is Spider-freaking-Man. He's said less than 5 sentences to her and she already knows he has a secret agenda. Great.
Madame Touha turns her head to one side. "Most older guys who come here now aren't here for the dancing. They come here for the dancers. These are my girls and I will not have them be preyed upon, am I understood?" Of all the things she could say to him, he didn't expect her to mistrust him based on his gender. Or his hormones.
"No," he stumbles. "I mean yes, I mean- I understand." Madame Touha leans back and eyes him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes with her hands on her hips. Her raised eyebrows come back down as she turns and continues walking.
"I don't mean to scare you, but my students are my priority."
"I understand, Madame." Peter hastily continues following her. "You're just trying to keep them safe." She shoots a glance at him. Maybe he said that with a little too much understanding in his voice. He meant it, though. He knows all about trying to keep the people he cares about safe. It doesn't always work out the way he would like to, but nothing is more important to him.
Madama Touha stops at one of the doors in the long hallway and rummages through her papers, looking for something. Muffled sounds of a piano playing staccato fill his ears. And something else. Weird... Tapping? It's an odd sound that Peter would one day grow familiar to hearing. It's a deep sound, but always short and never loud. Peter can't help his curiosity and peeks through the vertical glass strip next to the door. He can't see much from where he's standing and he bites the inside of his lip out of quiet frustration. What is that?
"You won't be joining that particular class, Mr. Parker." Madame Touha smiles. Peter jolts back into position, looking at his feet, embarrassed that he got caught staring. He glances into the room one more time from where he's standing, but he still can't see what's happening in there.
"What are they doing?"
"That's pointe class."
"The uncomfortable shoe-thingies?" Peter could hit himself in the head. That was the stupidest question he could ever ask. To his surprise, Madame Touha laughs.
"You can look if you want, but please don't disturb the dancers." Peter takes a few small steps towards the window until he has a better look of what's happening in there. He's immediately glued to the group of graceful women gliding over the floor on those- pointe thingies. They must be a very high level, doing turns and jumps with an ease that's almost scary to him. They don't even have super powers and they do this stuff. By themselves.
One of them stands out. Not because she's doing something wrong, though. She isn't perfect in her movements either, only sticking to three turns where most of them easily did four, some even five. Her technique is lacking, but... She does something extra, that the others seem to miss. He focuses completely on her. She's not necessarily doing the steps. She's not dancing. She's performing. It's breath taking. Her arms arch slightly further and the expression on her face... It's so intense. She is feeling the music. Every note the piano hits can be read on her face and in her movements. He can feel his own muscles tensing in tune with the music as the dancers perform their choreography. Two, three...
"Peter?" He's brought back to reality by Madame Touha. "Did you hear anything I said? Anything at all?" He moves away from the window with an apologetic look on his face. His hand goes through his hair as he tries to collect his thoughts.
"I'm sorry, I kind of... Zoned out," he admits. Madame Touha raises an eyebrow. "It's just so graceful. I've never seen anyone dance like that from up close." Madame Touha just looks at him. Oh, god. She really must be thinking I'm here for something other than dancing. He's going to have to say what's on his mind before she refuses to teach him. "I want to be graceful like that too."
"Do you now?" Madame Touha opens the door across from the dance hall and walks in. Peter follows, not daring to glance back.
"Yes, Madame. I'm-" he cuts himself off to close the door, unsure what to say next. "I'm working on a project of my own. It's, eh, long term." Madame Touha looks up from the papers she's reading. She is now seated at an imposing desk.
The room has a few cabinets and professional lighting gear stored in the corner. Next to the door stands a clothing rail, which has a few bags hanging from the hangers. The labels on the bags read names he's only half familiar with. 'Odette', 'The Sugar Plum Fairy', 'Giselle'...
"A project?"
"Self-improvement," he blurts out, letting go of the label that reads 'The Black Swan'. Peter, what are you talking about! "It probably sounds super cheesy."
"Have you ever seen a classical ballet? Cheesy is our thing." Peter laughs at that, but he's mentally ticking off his list of things he could say to convince the ballet master to teach him.
"I want to work on bettering myself as a person and I feel like, in a society that values masculinity above anything else in men, breaking stereotypes will help me grow as a person."
"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that." Madame Touha snorts. "You don't need ballet to break stereotypes. You will just find more stereotypes, trust me." She glances at his chest and his arms. "And judging from your current physical state I don't think you have anything to worry about." Peter curses the hot weather, which had him wearing something tight today. His nerves must've made him flex his muscles more.
His frustration rises. How is he supposed to join a ballet class like this? What does he have to say to make her trust him? It all feels so gross. He knows he's lying but he needs to. He needs to lie for her trust. Why won't she just listen to him to make this easier for everyone? He should've come up with better things to say. He's stupid for thinking Madame Touha would teach him. It causes him to snap.
"You really don't like men, do you?" Madame Touha's head jerks up from her paperwork.
"Excuse me?" She stands up from her desk. The look in her eye is dark and her voice is stern. "Three girls stopped ballet because their boyfriends, who came here to 'dance', decided they got what they came for and wanted the girls to stop their classes as well. You have no idea how many tears have been shed in this very office because of some guy who decided to show up here and mess with the heads of vulnerable teenagers. I have lost two girls to lover boys. One of them was found dead after six days of radio silence. My own daughter-" She stops herself, resting her hands on her hips, looking at her feet. Peter holds his breath. Why did he say that?
I'm an idiot.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"No, Peter. I shouldn't have said that." She waves her hand in the air as if to wipe away the words that left her mouth and she lets herself fall back into the chair. Her stiff demeanor has vanished. She looks broken, holding her head in her hands and leaning her elbows on the desk. Peter can't think of anything that can make right what he just did. The silence that rests between them feels like an eternity. As much as she made it difficult for him to explain why he's here, he sure has been making this difficult for her as well. Peter turns around to grab the door, to run away, but something holds him back. He shouldn't tell her. But he also feels like he shouldn't give up now. He lets go of the door knob and collects himself. He sits down in the chair opposite Madame Touha, leaning forward. The plan he had carefully constructed was thrown out an imaginary window.
Here we go.
"I can't tell you why I'm here, because it's a secret." Madame Touha looks up at him. Her eyes questioning. "But please, Madame. Please trust me when I say I want to do this for myself. Not for anyone else. I don't care if I need to pay for private classes if you don't want to put me in an already existing class. I just... I really want to learn ballet. I really, really do." She stares at him and he swallows.
"Why not go to another school?" Madame Touha questions. "You're in New York, kid. There are more than enough opportunities for you out there to learn ballet."
"My mother used to go here. She learned from the previous director of the school."
"Your mother?"
"Yeah, she's..." Peter averts his gaze and frowns. He doesn't know what to say next. Well, he does, but how? "She's, uh..." He never talks about his parents. Not even to Aunt May.
"I'm sorry, Pete." Peter stares back at Madame Touha. Her expression says enough. She understands. "So... You can't tell me this secret?" She swiftly changes the subject.
"It wouldn't be a secret if I could just tell you."
"Touché." There's another short silence.
"I protect people." Peter states. "My... er... Persona... Requires grace. That's why I'm here."
"To stick to a theme?" Peter chuckles slightly at her unintended pun.
"Call it what you like, but it is what it is."
"I can't believe it." Madame Touha sits back in her chair and Peter tilts his head. "With all the shit that's happened to me I learned how to see when people are lying." She scratches a spot under her bun with a pen. "And out of everything you said today, this is the first time I actually think you're not bullshitting. Even if this is the most bullshit thing I've ever heard." Peter sits up straight, a hopeful look in his eyes. Madame Touha takes him in for a few more seconds and then sighs deeply. "Alright. Classes start next week." Peter nearly jumps out of his chair.
"Thank you! Thank you so-" Madame Touha holds up her hand to stop Peter in his tracks.
"On one condition." She looks him straight in the eye. "No messing around with my girls. No dating."
"Deal!"
Ha, easy! Peter thought to himself. But oh boy, was he wrong about that.