July 4, 2000
Jaclyn still felt giddy from last night. The two of them barely shared anything other than history facts, minimal advice, and random things about themselves. Still the memory of William walking her back was fresh in her mind, and the kiss to her hand still burned with an imprint.
The piano sang rapid melodies from the corner of the studio, and she realized upon landing her second grand jete that maybe class wasn't the best time to think of this. Moving in unison with the two girls in her group, she continued running off to the side switching her arms to fourth arabesque.
Out of Miss. Lewis's eyesight Jaclyn yanked on the tank straps of her now damp leotard, and plucked at her pink tights helping the air circulate. All very discreetly of course.
Natania sprung from the corner next. She's a force. A firecracker in a tiny body, and that doesn't stop at her dancing. There's not a person more intense than her, and it's common knowledge her and Jaclyn were the best in their year. Something the latter would shyly blush at and try to deny while her firecracker friend would graciously accept the compliment.
She pushed through pirouettes, sprung in the air, and attacked everything with a sharpness. Currently Jaclyn swore her sharp green eyes were spotting her right now, boring holes in the back of Jaclyn's head.
While Jaclyn was flexible and seemed to flutter through everything, Nat was strong. They were both great dancers, but had different strengths.
It was her idea to audition for the Royal Ballet School after Jaclyn got in, and of course she was good enough to be just as sought after. Jaclyn never planned on ever becoming that talented, but it was always in the back of Natania's mind.
"Okay ladies that was our last combination, thank you for dancing." Gentle claps filled the room as the girls moved right to left in soft curtseys, each taking a turn to individually thank Ms. Lewis.
"I'll see you in studio B in fifteen minutes Miss. Webber," Ms. Lewis told Jaclyn more ice in her eyes rimmed by tiny silver glasses. Her head nodded like Ms. Lewis was pulling a string, and then Jaclyn scurried off in Nats direction.
Today she had been extra hard, not in a yelling furious spectacle of shunning their turnout like dance teachers do in the movies. Ms. Lewis didn't work like that. She merely existed, hardly raising her voice above her monotonous mumble. Somehow she gave off this aura of not caring about you, while being super critical for your sake.
Through conditioning she basked in the girls suffering, even scolded some softly, "I don't understand, it's only four pirouettes." Jaclyn about died of relief when Ms. Lewis managed to watch the only quad she landed properly. Of course Nat turned and hung in the air, a ballerina straight from a music box.
Before Jackie could reach Nat, Emma Branson cut her off forcing a magazine in her hands. Immediately she saw Natania and Thomas Branson, Emma's twin brother and Jaclyn's Pas de Duex partner, scramble to her.
"Look guys it's Tackie Jackie," Emma howled, and Jaclyn tried her best to slip past barely aware of the article in her hands. Cruel comments weren't a new thing from Emma, so Jaclyn was prepared. Until she caught sight of all the other matching magazines the girls in the lobby were reading.
Shouldering her dance bag she looked to the clock to make sure there was still time before her private. She made it apparent how annoyed she was as she flipped it over to see the front cover.
Prince William's newest conquest: meet 'Tackie Jackie'
The front page was an obscure picture of William and her talking under the tent at his Birthday party. Realizing with it printed on paper how bad the turtle neck sweater had been, she opened the magazine to the designated page trying to block out the shrill giggles of the other girls.
Jaclyn Webber is an American ballerina who's been studying at the Royal Ballet School...
Jaclyn skipped a few lines not needing to know her own life story.
When did the prince's taste go from model to homely? We're not sure, but we can officially dispute the claim that Americans are better groomed. Do you see her hair?
The day of the match it had been hot, every picture her hair was greasy from sweat and standing up in a frizz that could challenge Hermione. There were even a few pictures of her out with Zara and Natania at lunch posing like a madman. Apparently they just became useful.
The largest picture on the two page spread, was probably her favorite, if she had to like any of them. It was William dropping her off at her room kissing her hand. In the picture her outfit was still "tacky", leggings over tights with her sweater tied over her leo, but she had taken her hair down allowing it to spiral out in a crusty hairsprayed pony.
Emma took it back from Jaclyn's hands snatching her stare along with it. She was exuding shock, slacked jaw and muscles so loose it was a miracle she was still standing. "There's more where that came from," she said voice snarky, enjoying every bit of Jackie's discomfort.
There was no way to hide her shock, and they could see her nerves, but they had no right to see her hurt or her tears.
So icing over her stage face, she marched past them into the studio forgetting about her friends as well. Her privates were more important anyways. They were prime time for Ms. Lewis to start picking soloists for the spring showcase. Whoever had solos got offers into companies.
Taking her warm ups off, she placed herself at the barre doing a few plies to stretch out her hips again. Small tears slid from her eyes as she sunk down. Jaclyn rolled through her feet trying to find the perfect balancing point in her pointe shoes, but suddenly everything felt off.
Sous-sus was possibly the easiest position to hold, but her pointed toes wouldn't stop tottering. Her back was arched, her hips weren't pulled up, and finally she had to break her arm position to wipe at the silent tears. The ones left were now spread across her leo and glistening on her neck.
That was how Ms. Lewis found her, gripping at the barre with one hand while the other vigorously rubbed at her cheeks in frustration. Why would the tears not stop?
Voice as dull as ever she asked, "Jaclyn, have you warmed up?" She never turned to look at her student, focusing immediately on the CD player wanting to maximize their little time.
"Yes, ma'am," she blubbered out surprising herself with how sickly her voice sounded. Ms. Lewis turned sharply taking in what a mess she was. The tears had subsided, but Jaclyn's cheeks burned from where she had rubbed them, and she felt very sticky standing in one place.
"You needn't worry yourself with gossip,"Ms. Lewis said. Her tone would suggest she thought Jaclyn to be acting overdramatic, stoic and bored the way it was.
Still gripping the bar Jaclyn responded, "that's hard to do when half of England's probably heard it." She didn't mean to be malicious, but her feet were already starting to ache a sign this was going to be a long and gruesome private.
"And why do you care Miss. Webber?" She asked turning back to the CD player.
There had always been a wall between them, Ms. Lewis was a distant person taking her job as their educator very seriously. Hearing words, as distant as they were, she was allowing Jaclyn to peek over. To be comforted.
So Jaclyn took the opportunity. "Because I'm going to go out there, and I'm going to know they're all judging me."
"Well then," Ms. Lewis directed her hand to the center if the studio, "why not enjoy the time you have away from their eyes by doing what heals us all?"
More of an invitation wasn't necessary. She needed to dance like she needed the air she was currently breathing. So she forced herself away from the support of the bar like a little girl going en pointe for the first time.
The music to Aurora's Vision started, and her first steps were shaky. It probably had more to do with the fact that this was only her second time running it. The steps were still hesitant in her body, her perfectionism taking over to assure that each arabesque was in line and high, and that each waltz got perfectly onto her box.
Still, despite her talent to execute, something was missing. Her arms, long and memorizing danced, told a story; but no person would be able to tell what that story was because her heart did not move as well. Focus fled through her senses but not passion.
The pictures of the famous dancers before her glared at her while she danced reminders to be perfect. So much so she forgot the story. She was a vision, captivating a prince, but there was more. Details she didn't yet understand.
Arm stretching over her head in fifth position Jaclyn tried to smile as her supporting foot wobbled upon landing. The turns were just chaines there was no reason to be unbalanced.
Jaclyn turned to face Ms. Lewis, but the woman was focused on the back of her eyelids as she inhaled deeply. It gave the illusion of being upset, but then a faint smile spread and Jaclyn was even more confused.
"Do you know what I see Miss. Webber?" Her instructor asked eyes still closed as of she was looking into the future, but she didn't leave time for a response. "I see you, but it's a version of you that opens the soul with her movement."
-----
Favoring her blistered feet Jaclyn stepped into the chill dark air of the night wishing her sweater were thicker. Her private had finished hours ago, but she had stayed in the studio trying to figure out how to open her soul. And that meant tirelessly staring at her reflection for an hour straight demanding her soul to just open up.
In all truthfulness she was keeping herself locked away. The only people she saw passed through the hall casting incredulous looks through the glass barrier. They couldn't get through, this room was her kingdom.
Jaclyn started walking back to her dorm turning on her phone to check the time because the streets were unusually dead. Only then did she see ten missed calls from the same private number. It couldn't have been a spam number, the same one wouldn't have called her ten times.
She continued to walk dialing the number, and losing more focus on her surroundings than she should this late at night. It rang exactly one and a half times before someone picked up.
"Thank heavens you finally answered."
"William is that you?" She asked only realizing her outspoken mistake once she shouted his name. His sigh told her he didn't care, "I was worried you were ignoring me because of the..."
"The papers?" Jaclyn finished for him spotting a discarded one laying in a puddle beside a trashcan. Throwing it away gave her another chance to examine it, then she swore to herself she wouldn't look at it again.
"I would've come down there to check on you, but paparazzi have been all over Covent Garden."
"They have?" She stopped suspiciously looking around, but not a single lense poked out from anywhere. They must've gone home once it got so late, assuming she had stayed home to avoid them. He mumbled something of disbelief about her obliviousness, and that brought her walk to a stop altogether. "I've been the studio all day and my phone was off."
"But you've seen the news?"
She hesitated, "yes, I had girls shoving it in my face all day." Jaclyn didn't want to make him feel bad he had given her a
great night, she'd be a nobody again by the the end of the weekend anyway.
"Jaclyn I'm so sorry, I should've been watching-"
"You weren't the only one there, so it's my fault too," she stopped him only debating internally with herself afterwards if that was allowed. William carried on not seeming to mind, "It is though, and now I'm leaving for Belize." In all the chaos she had forgotten that tiny detail, and was stuck between disappointment and relief.
"I wish I could stay, and help sort this out." She could see him running a hand through his blonde hair leaving it to stand in odd directions. The image was a satisfactory one, but not one strong enough to distort her sense.
"That would probably cause more problems than fix, and you're not going to stay behind for me thats the dumbest thing I've ever heard." There was silence, followed by mumbling, and she was tempted to ask if he was talking to someone about what she would assume to be their private matter. One glance back at the trashcan reminded her again like a stake to the heart, this wasn't a private matter, and he had to talk everything out with everyone. At least the ones who helped him.
"If you think that's what's best, I just hate to leave right now."
She almost responded, but then she came up to her apartment building, still at least a block away, and saw them. They didn't go home, they went to her home. The photographers could make out her silhouette under the street lamps and immediately started running towards her cameras already ablaze with bright lights.
"William, I'll be fine. I would love to stay and chat, but I wish you the best of luck with your training." Then she hung up remembering how in this spot twenty-four hours ago a prince had kissed her hand and sent her up to her room peacefully.
Shoving her tiny frame through the masses of people screaming questions at her was so not the same.