I Forgot to Tell You (14 page)

“Yes. No,” Taylor said firmly. “Yes, I have thought about it, no, I don't want to. Thanks, though.”

Steven frowned. “Why not?”

Taylor shrugged. “I don't know.”

“What do you mean you don't know?” Steven persisted. “That doesn't make sense, it isn't logical. Come on, you must have an answer.”

“Well,” Taylor said slowly, “I can always do acting later. Dancing I have to work on now. Also, I can always act while I'm dancing, like I did tonight, but I couldn't dance while I act.”

“That is true,” Steven was forced to concede. “They would think it very strange on set if you started to jump during a scene. You might have a point, princess. But remember, the offer is always open. And Vivienne makes great pancakes, if that sways your choice any.”

“I'm good. Mom makes good pancakes, too.”

Julian rubbed the makeup off his face, using liberal amounts of makeup remover.
That's better.
It was all right for the girls, they were used to wearing makeup. The mascara made his eyes water. “Julian!”

Julian turned around, unable to see whoever was speaking. The water had washed the makeup remover
into
his eyes, and that stuff
stung.
“Just a second, I'm dying, slash going blind.” Julian felt his way to the roll of paper towel beside the sink and dried his eyes.” He turned around.

“Oh, hi, Theresa!” He noticed that he still had eyeliner left in the creases of his eyes, and he quickly tried to rub it off, as it made him look a bit frightening.

“Congratulations!”

“Thanks.” Julian stood there awkwardly. He had been right and Tristan had been wrong; it did feel creepy having read her biography to the end.

Theresa sat down in the chair next to him, completely uncaring that it was the boys' change room. “Have you decided what you are going to do for summer school yet?”

Julian shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“It will all work out. If nothing else, you can always stay at the academy for summer school.”

“Yeah, hopefully.”
If I can pay the homestay fees …

Theresa looked at him. “Is something wrong, Jules?”

Julian shrugged. “No, I'm fine,” he said. “Just … it feels a bit weird to be done for the year, you know?”

“Yes,” Theresa said, laughing. “Well, I'll leave you to get ready, then, you must be exhausted.” She hugged him and kissed his forehead. “You are going to be very good, Julian. You showed everyone that tonight.”

Kaitlyn walked out to meet her mom and dad. Jeff looked very confused. “Kaitlyn,” he said, “why didn't you tell me that you weren't the lead this time?”

Kaitlyn stared at him. “I thought Mom told you.”

“I thought that you told him,” Cecelia said, shocked.

Jeff looked upset. “It feels really good to be in the loop,” he complained. “Last I heard, you got the lead and everybody was happy? What happened? When did things change?”

“Around January,” Kaitlyn said flatly. “That's when I found out that I wasn't going to be dancing Swanhilda. Then I found out that I definitely wasn't going to be a week ago.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Why didn't you ask?” Kaitlyn spotted Tristan and Nat leaving the theatre. “Just a second.” She went running after them. “Hey,” she said breathlessly.

“What's up?” Tristan asked pleasantly. This was an improvement over the cutting tone he would have used if Nat wasn't there, and Kaitlyn intended to take advantage of this new charitable side to him.

“So, are you going to come to the Academy next year?” Kaitlyn asked Nat.

“I don't know yet. There is an entire summer to get through. Why the interest, child?”

Kaitlyn shrugged. “Just curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat and made Alice take drugs. I advise you to avoid curiosity at all costs,” Nat answered her. They turned to walk out of the theatre, leaving Kaitlyn behind them.

“In fact,” Tristan added, stopping and half-turning around; “
I
don't even know if I am coming back to the academy in September.” The theatre door closed behind him.

“What?” Kaitlyn protested.

The Fan Page of Vancouver International Ballet Academy

Have a good summer everyone! Remember to register for summer school. Love, VIBA

Julian was standing downtown on Granville Street, somewhere between Waterfront Station and Vancouver City Centre Station. He looked at the piece of paper he had in his hand with the list of buses he had to take to get to Alexandra's.

“Hey!”

Is that a
5
or an
8
?

“Julian!” Julian looked up. Leah had stopped illegally in the middle of the street. He ran across and got in the passenger seat, and Leah started the car again to the sound of angry car horns.

“What's up?”

“I thought you'd be on the Island already.”

“Going home tomorrow. I slept for too long today to finish stuff and still make the last ferry back,” Julian said sheepishly.

“Where you headed, then?”

“I said I'd give Alexandra her scholarship — she hurt her foot really bad last night, in the middle of the show.”

“I know. I was in the audience. You know what, I'll drive you. I wanted to see how she was doing, anyway.”

“It's okay, you don't have to do that — I can bus.” Julian held out his paper filled with directions as evidence of his bussing abilities.

“I don't have to do anything, Julian,” Leah said dryly. “I could move to the Congo if I wanted to. I want to talk to you.”

“Oh. Cool. Sweet. Um, what about?”

“How would you like a job?” Leah said bluntly. “I need somebody to teach my recreational ballet classes, and maybe sub for me on the junior competitive ballet classes.”

Julian stared at her.

“You're going to have to prove that you can talk,” Leah added.

“Yes, of course!” Julian said. His voice cracked, apparently choosing that moment to hit puberty. “But, don't you teach those classes?”

“Yes, but I hate it,” Leah admitted. “I don't like ballet anymore, Julian. I respect it; I don't enjoy it. I'd rather be putting more energy into my contemporary classes and my competition pieces. You're a bit young, but you have the prestige of going to the academy and training with Theresa Bachman, you're good with kids, and you love ballet.”

Julian gulped. “Like, when do you want me to start?”

Leah considered. “Well, we have summer school in early August, but I'm getting guest instructors in to teach that. We do have drop-in classes throughout the summer if you are comfortable teaching ten-to-twelve-year-olds. You'll be fine, just make sure they don't all get crushes on you. Be mean.”

Julian considered. “And then I could work with Frida and we could actually create some repertoire!” he said, excited.

“Yes,” Leah agreed.

“Wait.” Julian stopped, his face falling. “I don't know if I can afford to pay the homestay fees all summer on that though. I don't want to be rude, but how much do you think I'd be making?”

“If it doesn't pay Mr. Yu's rent, I'll get you set up somewhere else. Your parents will contribute something, right? I mean, you're sixteen. If you want to, then we have a deal,” Leah said firmly.

“So down!” Julian agreed. He let out a whistle, barely able to sit in his seat. “I need to go plan stuff out. I need to talk to George! He'll know which ballet-class CDs are the best.”

Alexandra was sitting in her room, watching TV. She looked up as Julian walked in. “Oh, hey. What's up, Julian? Congrats on doing so well last night.”

“Thanks,” Julian said, smiling. He looked at her, confused; she looked different.
Oh. She's not wearing makeup. I don't think I've ever seen her not wearing makeup — that makes sense though, why would she put it on when she can't go anywhere?
“That's quite the moon boot you've got on there.”

“Yeah,” Alexandra agreed. “I was hoping for one of those cast things that people could sign, but —”

“This is much more fashionable,” Julian assured her. “Astronauts are totally in this season.”

Alexandra laughed. “I'd almost believe you if it weren't for the fact that you have, like, two pairs of jeans and four shirts and none of them are remotely in style.”

“Hey,” Julian said defensively. “They're my kind of style. This look can't be copied, you know, you're either born with it, or — you turn out like Lady Gaga.”

“Cool about Tristan and Nat, hey?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course, now Tristan's totally obsessed with getting into RBS … it'll probably make him work a lot this summer.”

“Yeah. Leah offered me a job, so I'm probably going to be here in the summer, if everything works out.”

Alexandra looked at her moon boot. “Me too, apparently.”

“How long is that thing going to be on for?”

Alexandra's lip quivered. “Oh, um …six months, about.”

“Wow. That is so crappy.”

“Yup.”

“Oh, I found out about Isaac,” Julian said, breaking down into giggles.

“Oh, I forgot you were still reading Theresa's biography! What did happen to Isaac? I can't remember.”

“He decided to quit ballet and open a restaurant business, and then that failed, so then he went to teach snowboarding at Whistler and now he owns a small hotel up there. Apparently Theresa was really upset because he was her favourite partner ever, and she thought that he was wasting his life.” Julian started to giggle again. “Oh, and the artistic director freaked out and gave an interview basically ripping him apart for quitting, probably because Theresa was, like, depressed and stuff for almost a year after he quit.”

“That doesn't sound like anything you would do,” Alexandra said sarcastically. “Not remotely.”

“So, how's the truth-or-dare stuff going?” Julian asked suddenly.

“Uh —” Alexandra stared at him, embarrassed and confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, since you aren't going to be dancing for six months, you probably don't have to do that anymore, right?”

“It doesn't work that way, Julian.”

“How do you know?” Julian said reasonably. “I think you should try.”

“What about you? Are you going to be not smoking all summer?”

“That's different.”

“No, it's not. Julian, I think you should stop. If you are really going to be a good ballet dancer, which everybody seems to think you can be, you need to quit.”

“So do you,” Julian said firmly. “Smoking can't kill me. Your problem can.”

They both suddenly had the same idea. “Let's try to both quit, and see who lasts the longest,” Julian said first.

“I think we should have some special circumstances clauses, though,” Alexandra said warily.

“Okay. Um … I won't smoke weed unless someone gives it to me. If I pay for it, I lose. This way I'll save my money, too.”

“And I won't throw up unless someone makes me eat. If I eat by myself and then throw it up, I lose.”

“Deal.”

“Julian!” Leah called up the stairs. “If we go now I can drive you to the ferry. You'll make it in a car.”

Julian jumped off Alexandra's bed. “Ow, careful,” Alexandra protested.

“Sorry.”

“So, I guess I'll see you around this summer? And by that I mean you'd
better
visit me because I'll be bored out of my head.”

“Sure,” Julian said, grinning.

Julian ran downstairs and got in Leah's car. He stared dreamily out the window at the sky.
It's summer.
It was going to be a good summer. It suddenly occurred to him that he knew exactly what he would like to get for a tattoo, if he got a tattoo, it would be a platypus. It seemed to sum up exactly how he felt about his life. Part of everything, and different at the same time. Perhaps he would think on it for a bit, though. Did he really want to be the dude with the platypus tattoo?

Taylor Audley

I cant beleive that summer is over and Nutcracker rehearsal starts in a week! Gonna miss all teh good freinds I made :( :(

The air in Vancouver was crisp and the sweet smell of rotting leaves filled the city streets, but the sun still shone brightly. Taylor was very busy unpacking her suitcase. She had spent the summer studying dance at a summer intensive in California, and then another intensive in Seattle, and finally she had visited her father in L.A. and done all of her back-to-school shopping. It had been a great summer — all she had to do to remember that was look at the five-hundred-plus photos she had taken — but it was good to be back in Vancouver, and in her own room. “I even missed the rain,” she said out loud. She'd been talking to Julian while she was away, and according to him it had rained in Vancouver for most of the summer. The skies were clear and blue now though; everyone thought they were going to have an Indian summer.

“What?”

Taylor turned around and saw her little sister, Alison, standing in the doorway. “Hey, Ali! Nothing. Just talking to myself.” She began to pull out the results of her shopping. Her father was much more fun to go shopping with than her mother. Her father just stood around and sent emails on his BlackBerry while she shopped, but her mother would have actual opinions, and her opinions were always lame. Taylor pulled out a sweet new jacket. It was warm brown leather, and looked amazing with her blond hair. She put it to the side next to a pale pink tank top, a new pair of jeans, and a new yellow push-up bra.

Alison walked in and rubbed the leather between her fingers. “It's so soft — can I try it on?”

“Sure.” Taylor shrugged, pulling the rest of her stuff out of the suitcase.
There!
She pulled out her most important purchase: a box of leotards. She had five new leotards, and she was pretty sure that none of them were sold in Canada. Also a new bottle of Jet Glue — it hardened her shoes and also wasn't available in Canada — and several new pairs of tights. She put almost everything away in her drawer and kept out one bodysuit, a purple halter top, and a new pair of tights to wear the next day.

The doorbell rang. “Were we expecting anyone?” Taylor heard her mother call as she went to answer it. Alison went running out of the room to see who it was, still wearing Taylor's new jacket.

“Not me,” Taylor shouted back to her mother. She dumped the rest of her bag on the ground and lay down on the bed. She had done enough unpacking for today. It was so weird having a room to herself; she was going to miss having the company of other dancers, but it was nice to have some privacy finally. Even while she had been in Seattle with her dad she hadn't had privacy, because her dad's girlfriend, Vivienne, would not stop “dropping by” and “peeking in” on her. Vivienne was determined to be friends with her, which Taylor wouldn't mind if she found Vivienne at all likable, but she found her condescending and fake. Also, she thought that she wore far too much black and red.

“Taylor!”

“Coming …”
I wonder who it is?

Charlize was sitting on the couch, her hands awkwardly clutching her kneecaps, and Alison was sitting on the stairs eavesdropping. On the other side of the couch was a boy that Taylor didn't recognize at first. “Oh!” she exclaimed as he turned around. “Nat, what are you doing here?”

“Taylor, we need to talk,” Charlize said quickly. “Nat, do you want some pop? Juice?”

Nat shook his head. “I'm good,” he said, his voice clipped. He had his own unique accent, half fake upper-class British, half something unrecognizable that caused him to roll certain words. “You go ahead, I need to call my mother, anyway. She told me to phone her when I got off the plane, and that was three hours ago — she's probably called the embassy already.” He pulled out his phone, and Charlize ushered Taylor out of the living room and into the kitchen.

“What is he doing here?” Taylor demanded.

“Well, I was going to tell you,” Charlize said apologetically. “Things have been a little tight around here, financially, with your father getting ready to marry Vivienne and everything — anyway, I volunteered to take in a homestay student, and I asked for a girl. Gabriel told me that Lux was coming tomorrow night, but Nat just showed up, and I don't know what to do!”

“Call Gabriel,” Taylor said reasonably.

“You are so smart sometimes,” Charlize said, relief flooding her face. “Okay, that's what I'll do. I'll do it right now.” She took out her phone and called the academy, her left hand on her hip as she prepared to argue. Taylor opened the fridge door and took out the chocolate milk, pouring herself a glass.

“Gabriel? Yes, it's Charlize — yes ... Well, yes, that's what I am calling about. You see, Nat showed up … Lux's older brother … excuse me?… Well, that's not what you said in August … no, I would really prefer not to … ”

Taylor snuck a peek out at the living room. Nat was on the phone, speaking quietly and intently.
He is
so
not calling his mother
, she thought, slightly amused.

“Well, no, of course he needs a place to stay, but this is not what we agreed on … I see … well, yes, but, yes, I realize … he can stay for a week, but I want to talk to you when the school opens tomorrow.… All right, I will see you then.” Charlize hung up, and turned to Taylor. “Now what?” she asked rhetorically. “I guess Nat will be staying with us for a week until I figure out what happened with the original arrangements. I hope he likes pink, because I was going to put Lux in the spare room, and I completely redid it with all of your old stuff.”

“Oh wow.” Taylor started to giggle. She could not wait to see Nat's face when he saw his room.

They walked out into the living room. “Okay then, bye. Love you. Ciao.” Nat quickly hung up his phone.

“Was your mother all right?” Charlize asked.

“Oh, yeah, she was fine,” Nat assured her. “Just freaking out as usual — you know how mothers are. She would prefer it if I was locked in a padded chamber with my favourite teddy bear.”

Charlize laughed, for a little too long and a little too loudly. “Do you want to see your room? I'm afraid I decorated it for a girl …”

“I am sure that it's fine,” Nat reassured her. He and Taylor followed Charlize downstairs to the spare room.

Taylor was watching Nat's face when he got his first look at his new home, and she was impressed to see that he managed to keep his face neutral. She used to be really into Hannah Montana and butterflies when she was younger, and there were more shades of pink and purple used in her room than in the average Barbie dollhouse. She noticed that Charlize had taken down her old Backstreet Boys and Justin Timberlake posters and replaced them with Taylor Lautner and One Direction. “Mom,” she protested. “Even if this room was for Lux, she's fourteen, not twelve.”

“You still liked this stuff when you were fourteen,” Charlize protested.

“Yeah, but I knew it wasn't cool,” Taylor defended herself. “That's why I took it down.”

“It's all good,” Nat assured them. “The bed looks comfortable, and to be honest, that's all I'm concerned with at the moment. I'll just bring my stuff in, and then if you don't mind, I'd like to pass out for long time.”

“Oh, of course,” Charlize said quickly. “We'll help you with the suitcases …” They helped him drag the suitcases into the room and Alison watched surreptitiously from the staircase.

When they were done Nat yawned ostentatiously. “We'd better let you sleep,” Charlize said. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“No, I'm fine,” Nat assured her, smiling. “Good night.” He closed the door firmly behind him when they exited, and Taylor thought she could hear the click of the lock.

“I don't like this,” Charlize murmured as they climbed the stairs. “It's one thing to take in a fourteen-year-old girl, another to take in a sixteen-year-old boy.”

“Whatever,” Taylor said. “I think it's going to be fun.”

“Fun!” Charlize walked off to the kitchen, and Taylor went back to her bedroom. She still had a lot of unpacking to do, but instead she took out her laptop and went on Facebook. She had a message waiting for her from Zack. Zack went to her high school, and they had been talking a lot this summer. They had even managed to meet up for a day in L.A., because he'd had a screen test. He hadn't ended up getting the role, but he'd made it pretty far, and it had been nice to see him.

Hey.

How was the flight? I was going to make fun of “yor” spelling in your last message, but then I realized you were probably exhausted from shopping and I decided to give you a break. Aren't I nice? Anyway, do you have any free time tomorrow? I know you're too cool for school what with dance and everything, but maybe we could meet up after you're done dance. I want to see your stupid face again so I remember how much hotter I am. <3

Taylor looked at the message for a while, wondering how to reply. She had dance from 9:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. tomorrow, but she could see him after — the problem was, she didn't know whether she wanted to. When she first met Zack they'd had a lot in common, but he was actually really smart, and sometimes he made her feel bad about school and stuff without meaning to. He would just use really long words and stuff, or talk about people that he assumed that she would know, and then when she didn't know what he was talking about she would feel dumb. Like the spelling thing.
What person our age cares about spelling, anyway?
She deliberated for a while, and then realized that she knew the perfect person to ask for advice. If she was brave enough.

Taylor walked lightly out of her room, carrying her laptop. She made it past the kitchen and down the stairs without her mother hearing her. From the sounds of it her mother was making dinner. Downstairs she listened at Nat's door; it was very quiet inside. “Nat,” she whispered. “Nat!” She knocked lightly. She heard sounds of movement, and a drawer being opened and closed, and then finally Nat opened the door.

“What?” he asked. He didn't sound happy, and his usually neat hair was tousled and clumped on one side.

“Sorry,” Taylor said. “I just really need your advice. Are you like busy or sleeping or something?”

Nat sighed. “Well, now I'm not. Come in.”

Taylor came in and sat at the edge of Nat's pink bed, setting the laptop down. “I need help,” she admitted.

“With what?”

“Read this.”

Nat sat down beside her and read the entire message in a few seconds. “He critiqued your spelling? Smooth. What's your issue, babycakes?”

“I don't know what to do,” Taylor explained. “I'm not sure if I like him, and I don't know how to tell him that, or if I should tell him that, because what if I do like him?”

Nat sighed. “Don't you have any friends to ask?” he said. “All right then. I'm going to help you, because I am just that nice. Pass me that pen and notebook from the dresser.”

Taylor passed them to him, confused.

Nat lay down on the bed and began drawing a chart. On the top there were two sections:
Pro
, said one, and the other read
Con
. “All right. Now why would you want to date Zack?”

Taylor thought. “He's nice.”

“Nice.
Bam
. Poor kid.”

“He's kind of cute. Like, he's sort of small, but he's cute.”

“Cute, pro. And, con, midget.”

“And, if I dated him I'd probably be like the first person at the academy to have a boyfriend.”

“Really?”

“Well, obviously Tristan is dating you, but like of the girls.”

“Okay. Pro, competitive instinct.”

“And he knows about a lot of parties.”

“The kid has connections …”

“But my mom would probably not let me go to most of them, plus I have rehearsal all the time.”

“No time.” Nat finished the list. “It looks like there are a lot more pros than cons. So why the hesitation?”

Taylor shrugged. “I don't know,” she said honestly. “I just think I like him more as a friend than a boyfriend, and I know he doesn't see me that way.”

“Well —” Nat considered “— I would meet up with him tomorrow and see how it goes. You'll be more likely to know what you want to do when you are face to face with him.”

“Okay,” Taylor agreed quickly, glad to have someone else make her decision for her. “Thanks.”

“Taylor!”

Taylor winced, hearing her mother calling. “Coming, Mom!” She stood up. “What's that?” She picked up an orange bottle of pills from the counter. “Adderall? You have ADHD, too? That's so cool, I didn't know that.”

“Hmm,” said Nat. “Don't take this the wrong way, you're charming, but I really want to go back to sleep, okay?” He passed Taylor her laptop, and she left.

“What were you doing down there bothering Nat?” Charlize asked, sounding annoyed. She was attempting to clean up some spilled tomato sauce.

“Nothing! Geez, I just wanted to see if he had towels.”

“He has towels, Taylor. Go get your sister for dinner.”

“Alison!” Taylor shouted.

Charlize winced. “I said ‘
go get
your sister.' What part of that did you not understand?”

Alison walked in to the kitchen on her hands, falling in a heap just before she reached the table.

“What are you doing?” Taylor asked, curious.

“I decided that I want to work for the Cirque de Soleil when I grow up,” Alison said calmly. “Is that boy not going to eat any dinner?”