You're So Sweet (2 page)

“Hey Lexi, 'sup?” Julian asked, trying not to laugh.

“Geez, Jules! I didn't see you!” Alexandra started, trying to do her pack back up. “Hey, could you hold this for a sec?” She shoved a binder, some random papers, and a textbook back at him.

“Why do you have so much stuff? It's the first day back,” Julian asked, holding her stuff precariously.

Alexandra managed to shove everything back inside her backpack and was just able to do up her zipper again. She held her arms out for her stuff, and Julian obediently began to fill her arms up again. “I have to bring all my locker stuff back.”

“Why didn't you just leave it all there during break?” Julian asked as they walked up to the school, avoiding the massive puddles.

“I needed it,” she explained. “I was working on my solos for competition, plus I meant to try and study, and finish my online chemistry course up over the break.”

“Seriously? That's pretty hard core, studying on Christmas break.”

“I
meant
to.” Alexandra rolled her eyes. “
So
didn't happen, I only got halfway through. But it's the thought that counts, right?”

“Right. How come you're here so early?”

“I'm an idiot and I got up early because I was excited to go back to dance. I'm already tired, though!”

McKinley was one of the newer schools in Vancouver, and it was clean and bright-looking in the morning sunlight. It was a peachy sandstone colour of the sort that had been popular for public schools during the late 1990s and early 2000s, and the flag at the entrance proudly flew the United States flag. The school billboard announced that Hancock Secondary's Senior Prom would be held on June 6.

“I guess something's being filmed here again,” Alexandra said. “That's cool.”

“I like the new trees,” Julian said, laughing. The film crew had obviously thought that McKinley Secondary had been lacking in the tree department, and had propped a row of fake trees on top of the grass leading up to the entrance and covered up the wooden bases with squares of turf.

“Classy,” Alexandra agreed. She pushed open one of the front doors, and they entered their school, which seemed to have almost equal McKinley Secondary and Hancock Secondary symbols at the moment. The atrium was a huge empty space right now, and their shoes made loud squeaking noises as they walked across to one of the tables. Alexandra dumped her backpack on one
of the tables with a sigh of relief. “Okay, that's better.”

“Mmm, I can smell cinnamon buns,” Julian said, sniffing. He looked in the direction of the cafeteria.

Alexandra made a face. “I love cinnamon buns,” she said.

“Why don't you get one?” Julian asked.

“Why don't you?” Alexandra countered.

“No money,” Julian answered.

“I'll buy you one.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure. Here.” Alexandra passed him a toonie, and Julian automatically took it.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“You just want me to get fat, don't you?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” They both giggled, and Julian went over to get his cinnamon bun, coming back with a floppy sugar-and-cinnamon-drenched mess and a pile of napkins.

“Want a bite?” Julian asked, tearing a piece off and stuffing it in his mouth.

“Sure, thanks.” Alexandra took a piece. “What's with the skateboard?”

“I missed it last semester, so I brought it back from the Island. And it's a longboard.”

“It's cool.”

“Thanks — so, are you doing that Spring Seminar thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Tristan said you got a scholarship last year.”

“Yeah.” Alexandra frowned as she opened up her thermos of green tea and sniffed it. “It was for contemporary, though.”

“Still, that's really cool.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Hey, want to hear something really weird?”

“Yeah.”

“Taylor just asked me if I wanted to homestay with her family.”

Alexandra frowned over the steam from her Thermos. “Don't do it,” she advised. “They're nuts.”

“So's Mr. Yu.”

“He's a different kind of nuts. Trust me, you do not want to homestay with Taylor.”

Julian nodded. The atrium was filling up around them, and he stood up, stretching out his backpack. “I'm going to get to class,” he said. “I want to try and get a good seat. I hate being stuck in the front or in the back.” Julian got up and left. Even though he had the same courses that he'd had last semester, they still felt better thanks to his break. Fresh new paper, new pens, and he had actually slept. He felt actually excited to take notes.

By the time Julian got out of school, the clear cold sky of the morning had turned grey, and cold rain had started to drum down. He made his way to the bus stop, walking on the grass to avoid the humongous ice and water puddle that was usually sidewalk. “I'm sooo wet!” he called out to the others as he neared the bus stop.

“Maybe not the best day to bring your skateboard?” Anna called back to him.

“Hey, so I heard from Aiko that the Demidovskis have finally decided what ballet we're doing for June show,” Alexandra interrupted, her teeth chattering.

“You know what might help you warm up?” Delilah asked, shaking her head. “This.” She fixed Alexandra's scarf so it was no longer purely decorative.

“So, what did they decide?” asked Taylor, skipping from foot to foot as she tried to stay warm. The slush was now more like snow, and was no longer melting but sticking. The wind started to pick up.

“
Coppelia
,” Anna answered before Alexandra could.

“Well, I know what role I want,” said Delilah positively. They waited. “Dr. Coppélius, ob-vi-ous-ly,” said Delilah. They burst out laughing.

“I can so see you with that cane, poisoning poor Franz.” Tristan laughed.

“I am so not even ready to
think
about June show,” said Taylor. “Right now all I want to think about is YAGP.”

“You're going to compete?” asked Alexandra, staring at her.

Taylor shrunk a little into her coat as everyone stared at her. “Yes. Mrs. Demidovski
said
I could,” she added defensively.

“That's cool,” Alexandra said expressionlessly. The others started sniggering.

“The Demidovskis were okay with
you
going?” Tristan asked, disbelieving.

Taylor blushed and muttered something unintelligible involving the words “thinking about,” “Mrs. Demidovski said,” and “my mother.”

“I think,” said Angela virtuously, “that you should only do competitions when you are really ready for them. Otherwise, what is the point? That's why
I'm
not going. But maybe next year, who knows, if I work hard enough?”

Tristan mimed doing a laborious arabesque behind Angela's back, reducing the rest to giggles.

“Where is that bus?” Alexandra went into the middle of the street to see if she could see it coming. “
Still
can't see it.”

“Taylor,” Julian said quietly, coming up to her while the others were distracted by trying to tell if the bus was in service or not, “is that the competition you were talking about? For me to do with you?”

Taylor nodded, looking surprised. “Of course. If you want to.”

“Of course I want to,” Julian said. “But … are the Demidovskis okay with me doing this competition? I mean, it's kind of a big deal, right?”

“Yeah,” Taylor giggled. “I'm so excited.”

“Yeah. Kind of scary,” Julian agreed.

“Julian, how come you don't want to live at our house?” Taylor asked. “I think it would be fun.”

“Uh —” Julian stammered. “It's not that I don't
want
to live with you guys, I just already live with Mr. Yu. I think it would hurt his feelings if I moved out.”

“Oh, okay.”

Julian stood in front of the schedule, trying to figure out which teachers they had for class. Okay, so obviously LPY was Mr. Yu's initials, as usual, but one of the slots just had an asterisk instead of a name. Who was it? Was that the academy staff's way of saying that they had no idea who was teaching today? “Tris, who's the asterix?”

“Obelix's best friend,” said Tristan solemnly.

Julian stared at him blankly.

“You never read those comics?” Tristan exclaimed. “That sucks. But, seriously,” he continued in a quieter voice, putting a hand on Julian's shoulder and steering him down the hallway and thus hopefully out of earshot of the academy office “that means Mr. Demidovski's teaching today. He always gets an asterisk, we're not sure if it is because he's terrified that the parents will realize he still teaches occasionally and will force him to teach their kids or if he's just hopelessly vain and wants to feel important.”

“Awesome,” said Julian. “I didn't know he even taught still.”

Tristan grinned. “He teaches what he wants to teach, and who he wants to teach. I hate to say it, but he's kind of awesome.” They went downstairs to get changed.

As they were stretching before class, everyone was completely buzzed about both the first day back and a class with Mr. Demidovski. There were small groups spread out over the room, stretching and gossiping, with Delilah skipping from group to group to make sure she didn't miss anything.

“Is his class hard?” Julian asked as he pushed Tristan's leg up to his head.

Tristan let his leg fall down and then collapsed to the ground. “Uh … depends? His class is sort of hard to describe. It's always random. Hey, do you think you could stretch my feet? Thanks. Er, I don't think you are strong enough to stretch them with your hands, do you think you could stand on them? Thanks … ow! No, that's good.”

There was a sudden hush as Mr. Demidovski walked in. Holding a walking stick for emphasis, he paused in the doorway to survey his students. “Ah bea-u-tiful day, yes?” he asked, beaming around. There was flurry of smiling and nodding, and everyone hurried to find their place at the
barre
, shedding their warm-ups as they went. Mr. Demidovski went and sat down in the chair being offered to him by Gabriel, the academy's office-person-in-charge-of-everything. He waited patiently until they had arranged themselves to their satisfaction, his hands clasped in front of him in a vaguely prayer-like position.

“Facing the
barre
,” he said softly, the whole class ten times quieter than usual as they listened to him. “And one … and breathe.
Port de bras out
… and around … not too far, Tristan, hold your back … and straighten. Rise …
plie
… straighten and down. You,” he gestured at Taylor, “do not force the feet over, keep strong.”

As Mr. Demidovski gave the exercise, Julian watched his face. Tristan was right, he was very cool. He could no longer show them the exercises, but from the way he tilted his head, to the lines he showed them with his hands, Julian could tell what a great dancer Mr. Demidovski must have been. Julian worked harder in that simple
barre
than he had all year, he realized when they'd only finished a
ronds de jambe
exercise, and he was dripping with sweat.

But the end of the
barre
, Julian felt bit annoyed with Mr. Demidovski, and guilty for feeling like that. Mr. Demidovski was old; he had much more important things to think of than Julian. But still … all year Julian had gotten far more than his share of corrections from all the teachers, and it hurt to be ignored by the one teacher whom he felt mattered the most. He had not gotten one single correction, or even any indication that Mr. Demidovski was watching him, despite the fact that he was standing right behind Tristan, who appeared to be one of Mr. Demidovski's favourites. He chugged some of his water, and then it was time for centre work.

“You, my dear, you come here,” Mr. Demidovski said, pointing at Taylor and placing her in the front line, left. “Anna …” he pointed her to the middle, “and Trist-in,” placing him on the right.

Julian sighed. It was actually perfectly logical. After all, he was new to the academy. If Mr. Demidovski didn't even remember Taylor's name, why would he notice Julian?

“Back, Kaitlyn … Alexandra … Grace … and Kageki.” Mr. Demidovski finished, leaning back in his chair again with a sigh of satisfaction. Kageki's face lit up with a huge grin as he quickly bounded to take his place. Mr. Demidovski began giving them the exercise, and then the first group began to perform the exercise with music.

As the first group danced full out, the dancers on the side marked the exercise with only their arms and their feet, staying in one spot as they made sure they knew the exercise and understood the timing. As the exercise drew to an end, the dancers who were picked for the second group stopped marking and got ready to take their positions in the centre of the studio. Julian kept marking, but not carefully, and rather pointlessly; if he had been asked to perform the exercise solo, he wouldn't have known the first movement. He was too wrapped up in his thoughts.
The boys always go in the last group, anyway, what's this all about?
Does he have to be so obvious about who he likes best?
Julian accidentally hit Jonathon in the face, and, taking this as a sign, gave up on marking the exercise. Instead he slipped between the
barre
and the wall and leaned on the
barre,
pretending to study the second group's work. Julian wondered if Tristan and Kageki were on scholarship, too; he'd never asked and just assumed that they weren't. Finally the first group was done, and Julian stood at attention, ready to be called. He looked intently at Mr. Demidovski, willing the man to notice him. Instead Mr. Demidovski began correcting Anna.