Pirouette (19 page)

forty-three

Embarrassed by how badly she was dancing, Hannah in-structed herself to focus. But when her turn came to perform a series of
fouettés
, she lost her balance almost as soon as she began. She started over, and stumbled again.

Miss Sabto said nothing. She didn't need to. Never before had Hannah had such a strong desire to be invisible. Aware of the mixture of smug and pitying looks directed her way, she wished she'd stayed in bed that morning instead of coming to school.

“Don't forget to write your names down for the parent-
teacher interviews,” Miss Sabto told the class at the end of the lesson. “As your dance convener, I'll be reporting on your progress in all your dance subjects.”

During the morning break, Hannah tried not to think about the upcoming parent-teacher interviews and the poor report she was bound to receive. She bit into an apple, but found she could neither taste nor swallow.

Julie saw her throw it in the bin. “Hey, Simone! Are you okay?”

“Actually, no. I'm having a really lousy day.”

“Come outside, then,” Julie suggested. “Hang out with me.”

Hannah managed a grateful smile. “Thanks,” she said, “but I'd be rotten company. Maybe later.” She couldn't trust herself with Julie. Another kind word and she'd burst into tears.

After Julie had gone, Hannah wandered past the staff room and caught the tail end of a conversation.

“So that's it, then,” Miss Sabto was saying. “We'll have to ask her to leave the school.”

It was official, then. Hannah's fears had been realized. The worst had happened. She had failed. She willed herself to move, but couldn't.

Suddenly the staff room door opened and Miss Sabto stepped out. She took one look at Hannah's face, put an arm around her shoulder, and steered her into an empty classroom. She sat her down gently at one of the desks.

“Tell me what's going on, Simone.”

Perhaps the time had come to reveal the truth. If she said nothing, then at the parent-teacher interview Miss Sabto would suggest to Harriet that her daughter leave the VSD. And while Simone might be happy to do just that, she should be able to do it openly and honestly, with her head held high. Simone should not have to skulk away in shame because of Hannah's failure.

But if she confessed, she'd have to deal with the consequences—it would be too late to change her mind.

Hannah buried her face in her hands. Whatever she said or did, nothing would change the dreaded outcome.

Should she tell Miss Sabto who she really was?

One way or another, their parents would soon learn the truth.

If Hannah didn't tell Miss Sabto now, while she had the chance, whoever was sending those ominous texts might tell her first—or tell Manfred and Vanessa, or Harriet.

But if she did own up, perhaps Miss Sabto would be able to help. She had to trust
some
one.

“Simone?” The teacher's voice was full of concern.

Hannah plunged in.

“I'm not Simone,” she murmured softly.

“Sorry?” said Miss Sabto.

“I said, I'm not Simone. I'm her sister, Hannah.”

Hannah showed Miss Sabto a photo of her and Simone, taken at Candance and stored on her phone. When she finished explaining how she and Simone had met and discovered they were identical twins, the teacher still looked a little dazed.

Hannah went over the story again, this time more slowly, adding bits of information she'd overlooked in her first, rushed attempt to get it all out.

“Weren't your parents … suspicious?” Miss Sabto finally asked.

“
Not really,” said Hannah. “Simone and I swapped as much information as we could about each other's lives. And we're pretty sure our parents didn't know they'd adopted an identical twin.”

“Still, don't you think swapping lives was rather a … drastic thing to do?”

“I do,” said Hannah, her face twisting in anguish. “But Simone was desperate to leave the VSD, and I'd always wanted to come here. I thought if I was confident enough, and worked hard enough, I could prove I belonged.” Tears welled up in Hannah's eyes. “But now everything's gone wrong and … ” The tears slid unhindered down her cheeks.

Miss Sabto placed a comforting hand on Hannah's shoulder and produced a box of tissues. Hannah took a few, then blew her nose and wiped her face before continuing. “I miss my family so much, and I don't know if they'll ever forgive me. And now you're going to ask me to leave, and I—”

“Hang on a minute,” said Miss Sabto. “Who said anything about leaving?”

Hannah choked back a sob. “I heard you. I was passing the staff room, and—”

“You jumped to conclusions.” Miss Sabto's voice was an odd mixture of accusation and reassurance. “That conversation had nothing to do with you. I was talking about another student.”

“You were? But this whole week, I—”

“Performed poorly, I know. I'm aware of the recent friction between you and … certain members of the class. But dancers are only human, and you're still a student, a teenager. I can't expect the same degree of professionalism from you as I would from an adult dancer, despite what Mr. Dixon might say. Hannah,” said Miss Sabto, “you clearly have talent.”

Hannah felt a glimmer of hope. “You really think so?”

“I do,” said the teacher.

“But … I'll never be as good a dancer as Simone.”

“I wouldn't say that,” Miss Sabto countered. “You have the same physical facility as Simone, and you've just about attained the standard Simone had reached by the end of last year. But technique is only part of what makes a dancer, and what you lack in technique, you make up for in passion.”

Hannah felt her spirits lifting.

“I'll admit I had some concerns at the start of the year,” Miss Sabto continued. “At the end of Year Nine, you—or, should I say, Simone—left here a skilful, disciplined dancer, and you returned so different. But after your performance at the Dance Spectacular, your future here was never in question. There's a joyousness about your dancing, Hannah, that Simone never had. She was a perfectionist, but she never seemed happy, never had your animation.” Miss Sabto paused, remembering her former pupil. “How is she doing?”

“She's fine,” said Hannah.

“I'll need to confirm that,” said Miss Sabto. “She's still officially enrolled in this school, and the VSD has a duty of care. I have to be sure that she's okay. In the meantime, we'd better go and tell Mr. Collins what you've just told me. Then we'll call your parents, and—”

“No!” cried Hannah.

“I beg your pardon?”

“No parents. Please,” said Hannah, clearly distressed. “I'm just … not sure how they'll react.”

Miss Sabto sighed. “We'll see the principal first and have a chat about how best to handle the situation. But I'm sure he'll agree they'll have to be told.”

The break was over, and as Hannah and Miss Sabto left the classroom, a stream of students filed in. Hannah went to the bathroom to wash her face and drink some water, while Miss Sabto went in search of Mr. Collins. In the time it took to locate him, Hannah had a chance to think.

Now the three of them were sitting in the principal's office and Mr. Collins was listening to Hannah, open-mouthed.

“Unbelievable,” he murmured when Hannah stopped speaking. He sat up straighter in his chair, then turned to Miss Sabto. “You had no idea she wasn't Simone?”

“None at all. At first I wondered why her technique wasn't as strong as it used to be, but then she showed such rapid improvement. And if her dancing lacked polish, it was certainly heartfelt.”

“So you're pleased with her progress?” the principal asked.

“Absolutely. There was always a kind of tension in Simone's dancing, as if she were holding back. This year she seemed freer and more relaxed.” Miss Sabto pulled a sheet of paper from a manila folder. “Here are some comments her teachers have written for the upcoming interviews. Jenny Hill: ‘Simone is an accomplished jazz and hip-hop dancer with a vibrant and dynamic quality to her dancing.' Roderick Dixon: ‘Simone is working well in both contemporary and pas-de-deux. She is a natural dancer with an exquisite line.' And we've talked about her in the staff room,” Miss Sabto continued. “We all agree she dances with more abandon than she used to. And she seems happier, too. She—
Simone
—looked a bit miserable at the end of last year, though we had no idea she wanted to leave.”

Hannah chewed her lip worriedly as Miss Sabto and the principal discussed her progress. Then Mr. Collins turned to face her.

“I've had a quick look at the progress reports for your academic subjects,” he said. “Your marks in French are slightly lower than expected—though still above average. Other than that, you're doing fine.”

Hannah twisted her hands in her lap. Now that Miss Sabto had acknowledged her potential, she burned with a renewed determination to keep her place at the VSD, no matter how unpopular she might be. “So … do you think I can stay?”

The principal tugged at his tie and nodded briefly. “When I talk to your parents, I'll recommend that you do.” He paused, and, noting the concern on Hannah's face, continued kindly. “We can also strongly advise Ms. Stark that Simone should leave. We'll speak to your parents first, shall we?”

“No,” said Hannah. “You can't. I mean, I don't want you speaking to my parents, or to Harriet. At least, not today. And not on the phone.”

Mr. Collins tugged at his tie again. “I understand you have some concerns about how to explain this …
situation
to your parents. It's a delicate matter. But do you have any alternate suggestions?”

“Actually, yes,” said Hannah. “I have an idea.”

forty-four

As the train sped toward the city, Simone glimpsed the unfamiliar suburbs rushing by. Since it was Sunday, there weren't many people on the train. The VSD, too, would be fairly deserted.

At the back of the carriage, a couple were kissing, and Simone recalled the precious afternoons she'd spent with Tom. A pang went through her. At least the next few Sunday afternoons would be taken care of—she'd be too busy to think of Tom.

The train pulled up at Flinders Street Station. Simone got off and walked toward the VSD. She couldn't wait to see Hannah—in fact, the best part about her sister's plan was the fact that they'd get to see each other every Sunday for the next few weeks.

It had taken all Hannah's powers of persuasion to convince Miss Sabto and the principal to go along with this idea. In the end, they'd agreed, though not without reservations. Simone too had reservations, though for different reasons. Still, she wouldn't back out.

She wondered what it would be like to see Miss Sabto again. She'd always liked Miss Sabto—the ballet teacher had always been kind—but then, Simone had been a model pupil. Until this year, she'd never missed a single lesson unless she'd been sick or injured. Now she had in effect been playing truant for weeks. Under the circumstances, she couldn't help feeling a bit apprehensive.

Simone got off the train and rounded the corner to the VSD. Hannah was already at the entrance to the campus, and when the twins caught sight of each other, they ran toward each other, their faces wreathed in identical smiles. They wrapped their arms around each other and for a moment, all else was forgotten.

Apart from an initial, awkward moment, the reunion with Miss Sabto was surprisingly easy. “You look wonderful, Simone,” the teacher said as she embraced her. “What have you been doing these last few months? Hannah's told me, of course, but I'd like to hear it from you.”

As they crossed the courtyard, Simone spoke and Miss Sabto listened.

“Your new lifestyle must agree with you,” Miss Sabto said when Simone had finished. “You really do seem well. You looked a bit peaky at the end of last year. I had no idea what you'd been going through.”

“I know,” said Simone.

“We staff do what we can to make sure our students are happy,” the teacher continued, “but we're not mind readers. If you don't tell us you're having problems, we just can't know.”

“No, of course not,” said Simone. She thought of all the kids who starved themselves, or binged and then took laxatives, or threw up deliberately. The staff rarely knew—there was an unspoken pact to keep it a secret.

“Anyway,” Miss Sabto continued, “are you okay with Hannah's plan?”

“Yes, I am.”

“You don't think it's a bit … cheeky?”

“It is, a bit,” Simone admitted. “But it's no worse than anything we've already done.”

Miss Sabto gave Simone a wry smile. “You really are the spitting image of each other,” she said, looking from Simone to Hannah and back again. “Still, I can't decide if what you did was very brave or very foolish … ”

Not brave
, thought Simone. Well, perhaps changing places with Hannah was a
little
brave, but it was mainly cowardly. She'd been so afraid of confrontation that she'd lacked the courage to face her own mother—to speak up for herself and make a stand.

She vowed that would change.

“Either way,” Miss Sabto was saying, “I can appreciate why you acted as you did.” She gave Simone another hug.

Simone felt a rush of affection for the compassionate teacher. Perhaps she could have confided in her all along.

Despite her faith in Miss Sabto, Simone became increasingly anxious as the end of term drew near. She still had no idea who'd sent those dreaded texts, and whether that person meant to expose them.

She and Hannah were so close to getting what they wanted—but everything depended on no one from home or school knowing the truth until she and Hannah were ready to tell them.