The Devil of DiRisio (13 page)

I turned and snatched the letter out of her hand. “How dare you go through my things,” I said through clenched teeth. Sasha’s eyes flared in shock for a moment. She had never seen me so angry. For a split second, she may have genuinely regretted going through my things. What she didn’t realize was that I wasn’t angry that she had invaded my privacy, okay, maybe I was a little angry about that, but I was more embarrassed than angry that she knew I was flunking out of school. She now knew that I couldn’t make it without her. She knew that I needed her to help me write my papers and force me to study like she did while we were at Bridgeton. I hated her knowing how much I needed her.

Sasha’s fundamental arrogance quickly eclipsed her momentary remorse as she said, “Don’t get mad at me because you can’t handle your classes. You see, this is just proof that I’m the one that helped you get through Bridgeton.”

“You’re also the one that got me expelled from Bridgeton!” My words came out with more force than a slap to the face. Sasha actually stepped back and looked away from me. Was that a look of guilt I saw? Maybe my sister
had
changed.

“I guess I deserved that.”

I dropped my dance bag on the floor, plopped on the bed, and, with my head in my hands, started bawling. I cried because I was getting kicked out of the place I’d dreamed about coming to for years, I cried because I was slipping further away from my dream of being a world famous dancer, but most of all I cried because the sister I’d dreamed about coming back to me would never be the same sister again. We would never be as close as we were when we were kids. Even though I said I forgave her, I could never forget what she had done to me.

Sasha sat next to me and put her arm around me. “Let me help you, Sweetie. Let me make up for all the terrible things I did.”

“There’s nothing you can do. It’s too late.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve been working on this all day.” She spread some sheets of paper out on the coffee table with my different courses and my grades. “You’re doing great in English, American History, Spanish Literature, and Italian. You’re suffering in Chemistry and Math. I’m nearly an expert in those subjects. I took AP
Chem
and AP Calculus last year. There are still three weeks left in the semester so, tomorrow, I’ll go to your teachers and negotiate a restructuring of your grade. I’m thinking I can talk them into letting you do a project and a final test, both of which I can coach you through.
I guarantee, you’ll pass.”

“Sasha, you’ve been in this country for less than a week, you don’t speak Italian, and you have never met these people before in your life. What makes you think you can convince them to do anything?”

She cocked her head to one side kind of like a confused puppy and said, “I’m Sasha Garrison. I had an entire school of 1300 teachers and students eating out of the palm of my hand, believing what I wanted them to believe and doing what I wanted them to do for three years. I think I can handle two inconsequential Italian professors.”

Even though my sister’s attitude scared me a little, I truly wished I had an ounce of her confidence.

Hours later, I awoke to my cell phone vibrating on the nightstand. I flipped it open to find a text from Will:

Its 7 am wake up 4 chem. GL. I
luv
u,
angl

I’d forgotten how sweet Will could be. He was all the way in Reykjavik, yet he still called to remind me of my test and wish me good luck. Wait a minute, Reykjavik. If it was seven a.m. in Reykjavik, it was nine a.m. in Rome. Had Will forgotten the time difference? I checked the time on phone. Dear God, he did forget! The test started at eight which meant it was more than half over. I jumped out of bed, put on my sneakers and ran out of the house without even changing out of my bed clothes.

Thirty-five minutes later, I arrived at
DiRisio’s
library gasping for air and completely sweating through my pink piggy pajamas, just in time to see Sasha walking out all smiles.

“Sasha…what…,” I panted.

“Sasha, hi.
You came to support me. How sweet,” she said loudly.
Too loudly.

“Why… are … you
… ”

“Oh my God, did you run all the way here? You are so crazy, Sasha. I know you’re new in the country and don’t speak the language or anything but I would have called you a cab if you just asked.” Sasha smiled, waved at Pierre,
then
called out “See you at the show tonight.”

For a second I couldn’t figure out why she was calling me Sasha and waving to Pierre like she knew him. Then it hit me. “Oh my God, please tell me you didn’t.”

Sasha shushed me while dragging me away from the building. “I had to,” Sasha said when we were a safe distance away. “I tried to reason with Ms.
Calabarbie
or
Calabrady
or whatever the hell her name is and she just wouldn’t listen. She said she had already been as flexible as possible and that there was nothing else she could do. But then she handed me a test and told me to take a seat. The whole time, she thought I was you.”

“Oh my God, Sasha, what have you done?” I moaned while pacing in a small circle around myself. “What if we get caught, huh? Then what? You’re
gonna
get me kicked out of two schools in one year.
Oh my God, oh my God.”
My pulse, which hadn’t calmed down from all the running, started to pick up even faster. I thought I might hyperventilate as I tried to control my breathing.

“Would you relax? I was here early, before anyone else. I sat in the back and waited till everyone left before I turned my, well, your test in. I’m sure no one even noticed me.” I continued pacing still in shock that she would do something like this. I might be overweight and stupid, but I wasn’t a cheater. No matter what else happened I still had my integrity, but after this little stunt, I didn’t even have that.  “Well, one person noticed me,” Sasha said, yanking me out of my mental memorial for my dead honor.

“What?”
          “Your funky French dance partner over there came up to me and started mumbling something in French. Or it could have been Italian with a French accent. I had no idea what he was saying so I just said ‘gracias’ and went back to my, well, your test.”

“Gracias?
You said gracias?” I plopped down on the grass in complete despair. Someone was bound to know she wasn’t me.
If not Pierre then someone that heard her.
I would never answer French or Italian with Spanish.

“What’s the problem? You said yourself he’s an idiot. I’m sure he didn’t notice.”

“This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening,” I chanted while sitting on the grass and rocking myself.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Sonya. It happened, it’s over, you passed Chemistry and no one noticed it wasn’t you taking that ridiculously easy test.”

Feeling a pair of eyes on me, I looked around and saw Anna Marie standing in front of the stairs of the dorms with her arms folded in front of her. She shook her head at me disapprovingly then turned and went inside. Sasha was wrong. Someone did notice.

It was three minutes before curtain and Pierre was nowhere to be found.  At thirty minutes before curtain, I was excited that he wasn’t around.  I thought I could do the routine better without him.  At twenty minutes before curtain, I wasn’t as certain.  I started to get a little nervous, but I was sure he would show up. 

At ten minutes before curtain, I started asking God to forgive me for the bus I prayed for to run over Pierre.  At five minutes before curtain, I started freaking out.  There was no back up.  There weren’t enough dancers to rehearse an understudy.  It was very unprofessional to not have backups for each part, but hey, that was the
DiRisio
Ballet Company for you. 

Alejandro never even considered the possibility that his talent challenged boyfriend wouldn’t be able to perform.  And for that matter, where was Alejandro?  I thought for sure he would be around somewhere finding one way or another to blame this on me.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, Cynthia sauntered over to me and said, “Are you okay,
cherie
?” in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“Does it look like I’m okay? The show is about to start and my partner is nowhere to be found. Would you be okay in this situation?” In no mood for her little games or insults, I looked her straight in the eye waiting for her next move. I wanted her to provoke me into punching her in the face. Maybe if a fight broke out backstage, they would have to cancel the show.

But Cynthia didn’t get angry and go into her usual racial slurs. Instead, the corners of her mouth curved into a purely wicked smirk. She kind of reminded me of the Cheshire
Cat
, that is, if the Cheshire Cat were painfully thin and pale as an albino drenched in flour.

“Before I was only suspicious, but now I know for sure it wasn’t you who took the Chemistry test this morning. Just wait till Alejandro finds out.” Then she turned around and practically skipped away.

I didn’t know what she meant. How did my partner’s absence prove that I didn’t take the Chemistry test? I just shrugged it off. Maybe she was just as dumb as Pierre. Pierre. Where the hell was he?

The orchestra began to play the overture and still no Pierre.  My only choice was to go out and do my part and improvise through the lifts just like I had practiced.  My solo was first.  I went out and played the part of Claudette, the shy demure village girl, even better than I expected.  My anxiety caused by Pierre’s absence actually helped me portray the insecurity of my character.  I finished my solo and left the stage.
Still no Pierre.
While I was in the wings watching the corps dance, the reality of the situation set in.  I thought I would start hyperventilating.  Our first duet was coming in a matter of seconds.  I didn’t know how I would pull it off.  I started to believe that Alejandro had done this on purpose so he could find a way to blame me and get rid of me so my spot would be open to recruit a dancer he preferred. My nervousness turned to anger. How could he do this to me?

Then suddenly, I felt a pair of hands on me.  I breathed a sigh of relief.  He’d finally shown up. I couldn’t wait to throw the few words of French I’d been practicing at him. I would tell him exactly what I thought about his non-existent dance ability and his pungent smell. Except, these were not Pierre’s familiar small, stubby hands on my waist.  And when I breathed, I didn’t choke on body odor.  Instead, I smelled … spice.

I spun around quickly.

“What the hell are
you
doing here?” I said to Damian Karl as I looked up into his penetrating blue eyes.  His hair was straightened and tied back into a neat ponytail.  The stage make up he wore made his eyes stand out even more. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked.  I was just about to say ‘hell no’ when our music started and he led me onto the stage. 

He was going to make a fool of me, I thought.  How can a hip hop dancer expect to come out here and perform this choreography without any practice?  He was doing this on purpose.  He was trying to embarrass me.  Well, I wasn’t going to let him.  I was going to dance the best I’d ever danced in my life.  If he wanted to look ridiculous, he was going to have to do that on his own.  But he didn’t look ridiculous.  He wasn’t ridiculous at all.  He was good.  He was really good.  He was a hundred times better than Pierre.

The part where I had to leap into his arms came.  I braced myself for an inevitable fall, but he caught me with ease and continued.  I started to relax.  I could do this, I thought.  It would be okay after all. In fact, it was better than okay.  It was magnificent.

Damian really fit the part so much better than Pierre.  He played a mystical and powerful character that teetered on the edge of pure evil until he fell in love with my character. Pierre always played it too soft and unassuming.  Damian’s intensity gave the character a sense of foreboding and danger.  I could actually pretend to be afraid of him at first.  And then when the character turned into a seducer, Damian really turned on the charm.  The expression in his eyes even convinced
me
that he was in love.  Once, in rehearsal, I had actually burst out laughing when Pierre tried to pretend he was in love with me.

“What … how…where
… ?”
I panted after we finished the first duet.  Damian smiled and pretended he didn’t know what I was trying to ask.  “How did you … learn the part?”  I finally spat out.

“I talked with Alejandro yesterday and convinced him to let me dance with you.  He taught me the choreography.” 

“You knew since yesterday and you didn’t tell me?  I was a wreck.  I thought I would have to do the entire scene on my own.”  I must have said this a little too loudly because the stage manager shushed me.  There was a particularly quiet number going on in which the king and queen of the village were doing a romantic combination to a cello solo.

“Pierre was supposed to tell you himself today during your exam,” Damian whispered. A tumultuous feeling of guilt, anxiety, and paranoia mingled inside my belly. So that was what Pierre had said to Sasha this morning. And because she couldn’t understand him and relay the message to me, Cynthia knew it wasn’t me Pierre spoke to.
Which meant she knew it wasn’t me taking the test.
I wondered how long it would be before she told Alejandro and he would personally escort me off campus. I had a flashback to Bridgeton and remembered how humiliated I felt when I was convicted of an honor violation there. This time would feel even worse. This time it was true.