The Calling (3 page)

“I would be honored.” She smiled at them all.

“There is no one from whom you need permission? Your mother or father, perhaps?”

“I have no—My mother doesn't—No, I make my own decisions.” Miki wouldn't even tell her mother for awhile. She never knew, asked, where Miki was anyway. As far as Miki knew, she never cared. She had her own life and Miki had hers.

And hers was looking so much better all of a sudden.

She was a professional. She was a member of a real dance troupe. It didn't matter that she had never heard of them. Had anyone heard of them? They were new in town. What better place for her to start? She might never get into an established modern dance troupe so easily. And when she tired of this one, she'd have a credit. Something on her resume besides student.

She was a real dancer. Real! Inside she laughed and laughed. Outside she looked for her boots, raincoat and umbrella. She was expected home before
too
late—if her mother was there.

“You have to leave so soon?” Romney took one of her arms, Kyle the other. “We need to rehearse.”

For a second she wondered if she had to have permission to leave. The way Romney and Kyle held her again, it was as if—as if—she was their prisoner. A wiggle of fear pierced her stomach, almost ruining her excitement.

“Is that all right, Barron?” She directed her question to the person she felt was in charge. “I'll be able to rehearse late any other time. But tonight I'm expected home.” She needed to leave, needed time to think about this.

Barron stared at her for the longest time. She felt the perspiration start to soak her leotard and wiggle down her arms like tiny wet snakes. It was hot, too hot in the theater. Her breathing became labored, and she hoped neither Kyle nor Romney heard the change.

“Of course. I might have thought of that. What will you tell your—your mother?” He had guessed the status of her household.

“That I have a job. You will be opening soon, won't you? You will be performing for the public?”

“As soon as we restore the theater. We have big plans.” Barron smiled. “Will your mother be pleased?”

Miki had no idea how her mother would feel about her joining this dance troupe. Would her mother have to have the troupe's credentials and meet the director? Or would she just shrug and say, “fine,” as was her usual style on hearing Miki's plans? She hoped she wouldn't have to have her mother's permission, since she was underage, to dance with these people. She'd not mention it or ask.

“I don't know,” Miki said with all honesty.

“We are pleased,” Kyle and Romney said together. “We will walk you to the door.”

They did so. And to her surprise, before they pushed her out the back door into the alley, they squeezed her from both sides, and each kissed her softly on the neck.

Romney giggled. Kyle waved. He pulled the door closed and Miki heard the soft metallic click of a lock being turned.

How lucky for her someone had forgotten to lock the door earlier. How lucky for her that she had seen these people move in a few days ago. And that her curiosity had won. She had become fascinated by their appearance.

Theirs was an unusual and creative idea. But one that she loved the more she thought about it. It made her shiver and laugh and wiggle and jump up and down. She did all that now as she ran for her bus.

She loved the idea that now she, too, was a pretend vampire. A bonified member of The Theater of the Dead.

Four

M
IKI WAS RELIEVED
to find a note from her mother when she got to the apartment. Mom had come home from work and gone back out. It seemed she had a date. This was good news, Miki thought.

Her mother had devoted her entire life, since her father disappeared, to finishing her law degree. Now, as a lawyer for the arts in their posh New York City suburb, her mother stayed so busy that Miki hardly saw her.

A lot of men called her mother—she knew that. And as young and attractive as her mother was, it followed that a lot of men probably asked her to go out. Miki wasn't sure if her mother still had hopes that her father would come back, or if she just didn't trust enough to date again. Saying that she was too busy was an excuse. Mom hid in her work.

And you don't? When have you had a date, Miki?
“I haven't met anyone I like,” Miki answered the nagging voice inside her.

Well. Miki took a deep breath, sighed, and looked for something to eat. Suddenly she was starving. She found some bagels that weren't too stale, ham, cheese, piled a sandwich together and heated the whole thing in the microwave. Taking out the plate, she noticed that the mozzarella had oozed out around the sides perfectly.

A glass of milk rounded out her meal, and she collapsed at the kitchen table to eat. Her mother being distracted just at this time would be a lucky break. Maybe she'd hardly notice that Miki was rehearsing late. Maybe she could leave Mom a note about getting the part. She found it much easier to communicate with her mother through short notes. That way she got no cross-examinations, no formal opposition. And her mother did trust her. She'd known that for a long time.

There was a part of Miki that liked this independence. This way of living was almost like being on her own. There was also another part that got terribly lonely. The part that craved a mother to talk to, to share and ask questions, that wished she had a little brother or sister to pester her.

Miki spent the night with Paige a lot. But Mrs. Anderson didn't need another daughter, especially not one as different from her family as Miki was. It was too late to spend the night. She'd just call Paige.

She dialed Paige's number. Busy, of course. And no call waiting so she could tell Paige to call her back. Mrs. Anderson said if they had call waiting, the line of waiters would stretch clear to New Jersey.

Miki got in bed and finished her calculus homework. She didn't know why she'd taken so much math this year. But she liked how precise math was, how neatly numbers added up and subtracted and divided. There was an orderliness about math that her life didn't have.

She kept her room messy, with piles of unwashed laundry around her bed. She'd better wash out a couple of leotards tonight now that she thought about it.

Modern dance fit right into the way she liked to live. Unlike ballet, modern dance allowed her to go in all directions, to float with her moods, to let the emotions inside direct her steps and the range of her movements. She had tried ballet, but it was too rigid, too programmed. Much too formal.

As Miki sloshed two black leotards, one short sleeved, one long, in the bathroom basin—sending soap bubbles floating across the small room—she let herself think about the dancers she'd met today for the first time since she got back to the apartment.

Kyle and Romney were truly strange, but loving. Maybe a little bit too familiar toward a stranger. She'd have to get used to them. Primavera—she loved saying the lovely girl's name—seemed too accepting to be true. But Miki got no signal that she was pretending. She truly seemed to welcome Miki. Maybe Rima would follow Primavera's lead, if it seemed a bit reluctantly, where Miki was concerned. On the other hand, Rima might be more reserved. She might be waiting to know Miki better before she accepted her or tried to like her.

Miki was used to people liking her. She'd never had any big personality clashes with anyone at school or dance. But, then, she hadn't let herself get close to anyone except Paige and her family. She'd never had to move and make friends all over again. That might be hard. She and Paige had gone to preschool together. They had started in toddler dance at the same time. Miki thought of pictures in her scrapbook and laughed out loud. She wondered if she dare take a camera to practice with this new troupe and take some photos. Maybe she'd better go slow, get to know them first.

Back to troupe personalities, she'd reserve her opinion of Barron for later. He was in charge—that was obvious. What he said was the law. But she had always liked strong directors. Wishy-washy people sent her flying in the other direction. That was probably why she didn't date much. That, and being too busy with dance and school.

Most of the guys who asked her out were timid about approaching her. Their body language said, you probably won't go with me, but just in case, I'll ask. Their attitude was probably her fault. She didn't mean to scare guys off, but she knew her independent nature was obvious. Paige reminded her when she forgot.

She wondered what Davin was like. He had been running the light board, so she hadn't met him, only heard his name. Was he a dancer or a tech man? Would he look more normal, even if he acted like the others?

Elah, she didn't want to think about. She'd stay out of his way if she could.

She stretched and yawned after she rolled the leotards in this morning's towel to soak some of the water out. Flinging them over the shower rod to dry, she headed back into the living room. Well, all the loft apartment she and her mother shared was living room except for the two small bedrooms with a bathroom in between.

The big apartment was open with lots of windows and skylights. On one side, her mother had a desk piled with papers. On the other, she had let Miki put up a practice bar and three ceiling-to-floor mirrors.

In order to relax enough to sleep, Miki put on a “Heart's of Space” CD. When the soothing rain forest music filled the room, she moved slowly and languidly. She was the rain. Now the ferns, rising from the fertile soil, uncoiling stretching for the light. She was a large bird, floating into the tree tops to perch for the night.

When the music changed to a minor key, she became a snake, a serpent, tongue flicking, slinking and sliding about, looking for prey. Last of all, she was the leopard, moving silently through the thick growth, staying in the shadows, searching, always searching for food, always alert for danger, but at the same time curious. “Curiosity kills the cat,” she whispered as the music stopped. Then she laughed out loud, started the disc again, and ran for her bed.

Leaving her bedroom door open, she lay, breathing deeply, relaxing, listening to the piece all over again as she drifted, lulled into dreamless sleep.

Just as she hoped, her mother was still asleep when Miki left for school. Miki hadn't heard her come in, but it was late—very late. That meant she must have enjoyed the evening.

Dear Mom,

Hope you had a great evening. I suspect you did. (She drew a smiley face.) I'll be late tonight. I have a job! New troupe, who've come to town and are rehearsing a show in the old Sullivan building. They plan to renovate it. I'm sure there aren't any phones there, so if you need to leave me a message, do so at the studio. I'll take my class there after school as usual. I'll tell you more when I see you.

Love,

Miki

Paige was waiting for her at their locker. “Where'd you go after class last night, Miki? I tried to call when I got home but you didn't answer. Then I lost the phone.”

“I tried to call you. I got home late. I got a job, Paige. A job! Can you believe it?”

“A job? Where? With whom? A real troupe?” Paige clutched Miki's arm, and her brown eyes grew even bigger than usual. “No fair. We were going to get our first job together. We've always done everything together.”

Miki remembered that Barron said the troupe needed a couple of dancers, but for some reason she didn't tell Paige. Paige was terribly conservative, for one thing. And for another, Miki realized she didn't want to share her discovery yet. Well, share it in person.

“It's a new troupe in town. They're rehearsing at the Sullivan building.”

“That creepy place? I thought that building was condemned.”

“I thought so, too, but they're going to fix it up. Anyway, I was walking past the alley on the way to the bus a week ago, when I saw a van pull up and some people get out. The way they were dressed caught my attention, so I watched the next day in case they arrived at the same time.”

“So you noticed they were dancers and just went in and asked for a job?” Paige bounced up and down, impatient to hear the rest of Miki's story.

“No, of course not. Yesterday, you know how that rain came down suddenly. Well, I ducked into the theater through the stage door. That's when I discovered they really were dancers, but not like any dancers we've ever seen before.” Miki liked telling a story from beginning to end, keeping the suspense going.

“You're making me crazy. Get to the point.”

“I got caught watching them, and I'll have to admit, at first I was scared.”

“How come? Is it some secret group? Maybe they were afraid you'd steal their routines.”

“I don't think so. They're vampires, Paige.” Miki went for the shock value of the story. She wasn't disappointed.

“Vampires! You have to be kidding, Miki.”

“Yeah, I am. They're pretending to be vampires. The group is called the The Theater of the Dead. Paige, they work on trapezes. It's so much fun.”

“You tried it?”

“Well, they said they needed another dancer and they let me try out. They incorporate the trapezes right into the dance routines. There's so much room for innovation. I felt as if I was a little girl playing. Dancing has never been so much fun.”

Miki could see that Paige felt left out. She was trying to stay excited for Miki, but that look faded, making her already long face longer.

“Paige, give me a few days. Maybe they need more than one woman. As soon as I feel free to do so, I'll ask if you can come and try out, too.”

Paige had a suspicious side to her. Now it came out. “Why didn't they advertise for real dancers? Why would they hire a student?”

“Give me some credit, Paige. Give yourself a break, too. How long have we been studying? Forever. We're not really students now—except for the fact that dancers are always learning, growing, I'd hope.”