Arrows (17 page)

“I want Aaryn to sit by me,” Svetlana whispered, turning so just we girls would hear. I glanced at the empty spot to my right. Oh well.

His hair was still wet from a shower when the van door whirred open.

“Good morning,” he said. He sounded way too cheerful.

“There’s room up front,” Svetlana said, patting the seat next to her enthusiastically.

“I’m good.” He edged in next to me, brushing against my arm. “Are you ready for this?”

“I should be asking you the same question.”

He offered me a granola bar.

“Thanks.” I tore the wrapper and crumbs spilled onto my lap. I shook the carrier gently to soothe Nell as I tried a bite.

“Are you nervous?” I asked. A piece of oatmeal stuck to my lip.

“Yeah.” He chomped his bar in half. “Aren’t you?”

“I’m always nervous until I feel the stage.” We were at the stop sign where Main Street met the highway. “Once I’m up there, I’m ready.”

“I wish I had your confidence.”

“You’ll do great.”

He sat back and our arms touched more, and after we pulled onto the highway everyone in the van fell asleep.

We made it to Milwaukee before nine-thirty a.m. Since it was too early to check in to our hotel, we unloaded our gear at the front of the Milwaukee Dance Studio. The street was alive with movement. Dancers, parents, and coaches swarmed toward the double doors.

“I have to change Nell’s diaper,” I said. The city was white noise: people walking by on their cell phones, motors whirring in buildings and cars. There were no birds in sight. I always thought opportunity lived in those sounds, so much more than the country sounds of Lakefield. “I’ll be back.”

Everyone around me carried dance gear, while I threaded my way to the restroom with my baby in my arms, diaper bag on my shoulder. Nell smelled like poop.

Then I saw a sign outside two enormous doors that read
Leona Barrett Scholarship
and hesitated for a better look. My gaze panned the room the way a movie camera circles a truly amazing place. The stage was dotted with spotlights. Rows and rows of black folding chairs had been set up in front. My audience.

“Look at that,” I said, edging Nell close. “Mommy’s going to perform up there. Isn’t it beautiful?”

She seemed to understand, and stared in awe like me. Several dancers milled around the room, some of them practicing, others with headphones on. Nell gurgled to whoever cared to listen.

“Oh yeah?” I said. She yawn-cooed a reply. Okay, diaper time.

A line of girls waited outside the bathroom, but lucky for us there was no line for the baby-changing station. I switched Nell’s diaper as fast as I could, dabbing a little cream on her butt, and met up with the others in the hall.

“I brought the rest of your stuff,” Aaryn said, patting the rolling luggage beside him.

“Oh wow. Thanks.” I knelt down and rummaged through the diaper bag for Nell’s bottle. She was working up to her spastic wail. “Shhh, shhh, shhh, almost ready.”

“I can take her,” Aaryn said. “No puking,” he instructed as she squirmed in his arms.

“Oh my gosh, your baby is so cute!”

A girl who looked no older than thirteen crowded Aaryn, three others following her.

“She’s not mine, she’s—”

“What’s her name?” crooned one of the girl’s friends.

My face felt red-hot. I edged into the group to take her back, but Aaryn shrugged and waved me away.

“Nell,” he said. He grinned and positioned Nell so the girls could coo at her, which helped. She stopped crying for a full twenty seconds. Once Nell started wailing again, the girls left.

I found an outlet to plug in the bottle warmer and sat against the wall, bouncing Nell while she wailed and spit out the pacifier. A few people looked at me funny when they walked by. The worst was this girl so beautiful she didn’t even seem real, who was followed by two older women and a kid carrying a sign. Her fan club, I guess. She made a face, like me sitting next to a baby bottle with my baby was the weirdest sight she’d ever encountered. The bottle warmer dinged.

“Okay, girls.” Juliette looked fresh for having gotten up at four a.m. Nell sucked the bottle and drank in long, sleepy gulps. “Let’s figure out your schedules.”

Svetlana, Sofia, and Monique were dancing for a few of the other scholarships being sponsored, and Peyton was along for moral support, since her ankles still weren’t the greatest. Also, she’d agreed to babysit.

“See anyone you know?” Aaryn asked. The hum of everyone talking, Nell drinking, a few girls looking my way curiously—I felt dazed.

“No,” I said. “No one looks familiar.” I wasn’t a ballerina anymore. Not like past competitions. I snuggled Nell against my chest and began burping her, which she did loudly. With a smile I kissed her cheek.

“Ready for me to take over?” Peyton had a cup of coffee in her hand and seemed a lot more awake. Her hair was full along the crown, a thin headband tucked around it. Wrapped in hemp and beaded. “I think I’m going to check in at the hotel so Nell doesn’t have to spend all day with her meal plugged into the hallway.”

“We’re used to improvising,” I said. The dancers were really flooding in now. “Are you sad you’re not competing?”

“Not really.” She set down her coffee and wiggled her hands around Nell. “I love competing, but not when I hurt.”

“I’m going to grab a water,” Aaryn said. “You guys want anything?”

“I’ll take one,” I said. Peyton shook her head. He was a magnet for female attention as he retreated down the hall.

“So,” Peyton said. “Aaryn’s quite the guy, huh?”

I dug my schedule out of my purse and began checking it over for the hundredth time. “He’s very nice.” I had one hour. First up, a group class, then a modern solo, then pointe work, and finally a pas de deux—in my case, the piece with Aaryn—to show off my partnering experience.

“You guys seem to have a good connection.”

“We do.” I met her gaze. “There’s nothing going on between us, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Did I?”

“Don’t be cute.” I reached out and drew Nell’s shirt over her belly. “I know you.”

Peyton eased Nell against her other shoulder. “I’m just saying—he’s really great.”

“I know.”

She made a pouty face. “Sometimes I wish you had a nicer boyfriend, that’s all. And he’s so nice!”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Okay.”

All those people in the hallway, the sound of chaos, mostly, everyone preparing for one of the biggest moments of their lives—it felt a little claustrophobic. I folded the paper and shoved it deep into my purse.

“Your water, my lady,” Aaryn said.

“My lady?” Peyton said. She nudged me. She was totally smitten. I took a step away from her. Aaryn tipped his bottle against mine. “Cheers. To a great performance.” He drank, sighed with satisfaction, and glanced around. He was in a really good mood. “Should I be doing something right now? Warming up?”

Okay—yeah. He was nice. And good-looking. And thoughtful. But it wasn’t like that between us.

He held out his hand. “Come on. Let’s find a place to work in
private.
”

I could feel my stupid face burning when we touched. I did a little spin for show, I don’t even know why, and tripped because some clueless group of dancers bumped into us. Aaryn made a big scene of catching me. He scooped me up and said something cheesy like “At least wait until we’re alone.”

“Put me down,” I said. My heart was pounding because I knew Peyton was taking it all in, like she knew more about the kind of boyfriend I should have than me.

“I know just where to take you,” Aaryn said. “And yes, you’re welcome. I’ve done my research.” He motioned for me to follow, really enthusiastic. I went to him.

—

The supply room was empty except for supplies—toilet paper, soap, and cleaning products on rows of metal shelving. We rehearsed a little, a good warm-up before the group class. The steel door was shut tight and blocked the noise in the hall.

“There’s some really tough competition here,” I said. “Did you see that girl practicing in the hall?” I spun, his hands on my waist, the pirouette flawless.

“I’ve never seen anyone dance the way you do,” he said. “Seriously. You have a gift.”

“Thanks, but now I’m even more nervous.”

“I can give you a back massage if you want. Here, lie down.”

“What? Um, no, that’s okay.”

He winked, because he’d been joking, and heat radiated through me. Juliette had always said there was a little bit of truth behind every joke. I stepped away from him, smiling, the edges of my mouth twitching. “Do you have a girlfriend?” It would be so much easier if he did. Being friends with him would be so much safer. “There has to be some lovesick girl wishing you’d come back to Florida, right?”

He shook his head. “Hate to break the news to you, but I’m a total loser no one likes.”

“When was your last relationship?”

“About a month ago. This goddess—I mean, girl—I knew, she was really fun and pretty and all, but things didn’t work out. She wasn’t that nice to me. I guess we just stopped liking each other.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“I don’t know.” He reached over and moved a strand of hair from my forehead. Dust particles floated, tiny flecks of diamond. “What’s love feel like, anyway?”

“Hmmm.” I stared at my bare feet, ugly from all those years of dancing. “I guess, I don’t know, like magic. Like a flash. All of a sudden I just knew Danny was the one.” The burn in my stomach spread into my chest.

“And you never question things? Your feelings for him?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” The scary part was that I wanted Aaryn to know that
yes,
I did wonder sometimes if Danny and I would last, even when it felt painful, literally painful, to imagine a life without him.

Admitting it, though? Dangerous. Almost like I had led him into my pond of poison that could potentially ruin everything.

Maybe, and this was probably dumb, but maybe he was the antidote. He held out his hand and I took it. He was warm and strong as he drew me against him, his face close, too close, everything too hot. The doorknob turned.

“You can’t be in here.” A man wearing a janitor’s uniform swung the door wide and stood back for us to leave.

Day 39

She was the best. No doubt in my mind. I stood in awe as Karma moved across the stage for her pointe solo, the music crisp from the speakers.

I stole a quick glance at the judges. One judge had dropped her pen and leaned back in her seat, not even trying to conceal the fact that she was enthralled by Karma’s talent. I felt so proud. I felt like nothing in a room where she was everything. My hands actually stung from clapping when she bowed.

“You can continue with your pas de deux,” announced a judge wearing horn-rimmed glasses, who looked as old as Zeus. Karma nodded from the stage to invite me up. Okay. I could do this.

I climbed the stairs slowly, going over a mental checklist of what I’d learned so I wouldn’t screw up. The spotlight half blinded me. Karma gracefully led me to the center of the stage.

“Ready?” she whispered. She angled my arms for the piece. I swallowed and tried to gaze in the direction of the judges. Were spotlights always this extreme? I focused on her hair instead, noticing that a curl had slipped from her bun. It glistened. I wanted to brush it back, pull her close, tell her how amazing she’d been.

The light blurred and my breath caught in my throat as she began to dance around me, then lifted into position. My hands following her slender hips as she rose. She was tense; the pirouette was coming. The easy part. We’d practiced so many times.

When she moved, my grip fumbled. My fingertips slipped down the bone of her hip as I tried to take hold again, hold of anything—the indent of her torso, her tights. She crumpled before me, it seemed, in slow motion. My frantic lunge to grab her was too late. I landed with two hands over her body.

“Ow.” She grabbed her ankle and stared at me, inches from my face, her mouth contorted. One of the judges gasped, and from the corner of the stage I saw Juliette’s hand fly up to her mouth.

“Please,” Karma said, voice shaking. She pushed my chest and used my wrist to pull herself up, trying to conceal a limp. “With your permission, we’d like to keep going.”

“You’re hurt,” I said, but she turned her back to me.

“Hold me for the lift. We can do this.” She rose on her good ankle. The last move of our piece happened so fast, her body as precise as steel against my palms, almost like she didn’t need me. She lowered to the ground and bowed. At last one of the judges found her voice.

“That was…” Shuffling of paper. “Thank you, uh…” Whispering. “Karma Clark. Thank you. That was very brave.”

Karma’s face flashed in the spotlight, a small smile. I tried to help her leave the stage, but she wouldn’t take my arm.

“We have to get that ankle on ice,” Juliette said, but Karma didn’t stop. Her limp was getting worse. When we exited the auditorium, I nudged her, sliding her arm over my shoulder.

“I’m carrying you.”

“Put me down, I’m fine. I’ll be fine, I swear.”

I gathered her into my arms the way you hold something very fragile, crooking my elbow beneath her knees. She weighed practically nothing.