Red Pointe Shoes

Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

A hand lands on my waist, a little too much to be described as gentle, and I wince as those hands lift me up into the air. Deftly, I bring my support leg up to meet my back leg, which is outstretched. My arms reach forward, the back one a head higher than the front one into third arabesque. This morning, I woke up aching all over, with every bit of skin tender to touch. My ankle at least isn't sprained, only very bruised, thanks to a certain boy. The hands at my waist tremble and loosens, and I find myself falling out of the presagé lift and crashing onto the ground. The impact makes me groan as I push myself up.

"I'm sorry!" Evan exclaims, eyes wide with shock and guilt, "I'm so so sorry!" I bat away his apologies with a pained smile.

"It's okay, it happens all the time." Yes, it does if I'm dancing with the newer ones. Also, it usually doesn't hurt as much as it did just now. We all know who to blame for that.

"Evan!" Our teacher snaps, coming over to smack him in the arm with a wooden ruler, "I want all your effort in this or you'll be back in the corps! Lifts are an important part of a pax de deux and you WILL master it in time for the showcase!" I glance over at him and see his face crumple into despondency, looking very much like a kicked puppy. "I'm sorry ma'am, it won't happen again." He murmurs, before opening his arms out for me again.

"It's really okay," I assure him, "I was worse than you when I first started doing lifts." He takes my waist and pushes it gently to aid my pirouettes. I land from the double and spread my arms wide into a welcoming gesture. The piano keys play on and I have no choice to continue with the dance. Then, there is a sudden increase of the volume and I know it is time to attempt the lift again. His hands clasp around my waist, and I can feel the heat of them through my leotard.

I am weightless for a few seconds before he brings me down in a slightly wobbly arc towards the ground. I curtsy and he bows, eyes avoiding mine. Our trainer's voice dismisses us for a break in the background, and Evan starts walking away, heading for his bottle. I frown and chase after him, wondering what has wiped the smile from his face. "Evan, wait!" I call, bringing a palm down on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he mutters, shrugging off my hand.

"Don't lie to me when it's so blatantly obvious that something's up." I snap, cutting off his path. "Now tell me." His eyes find mine and glares at me for a few seconds before softening into regret.

"You won't understand, Avery." Evan sighs, and makes a move towards the door.

I frown and stop his step with a harsh shove to the shoulder. "Don't judge for me what I can or can't understand okay? I believe that's still my own choice."

"Fine Avery!" He shouts in frustration, throwing a hand up into the air. "I don't think you'll understand because you're so good at every step you try, every new move, and here I am struggling with the basics! I mean, do you know how frustrating it is to try so hard but fail everytime? You don't, do you?"

Is that was this is all about? I am incredulous that he, as a boy, can make such a big fuss about something as trivial as this. Well, it's not exactly that trivial, but it's not like the fate of the world rests on it. I shake my head in disappointment before grabbing his wrist to drag him out of the room and down the hall. He makes a few attempts to get loose but doesn't protest that much. As we walk out of the school, I use my other hand to grab my phone and hit the speed dial button, brining it up to my ear. It plays two bars of some violin dubstep thing before she picks up.

"Hello?

"Yeah, it's me! Long time no talk, stranger!"

"Could you do me a favour? Just meet me at 33 Scoops, and bring Dylan." I end the conversation and shove the phone into the waistband of my yoga pants. Evan and I are hardly in presentable clothes, only a leotard and a pair of yoga pants. However, the people of New York have seen far odder things than us, so they don't really bother to stop and stare. 33 Scoops is a small family owned shop, and has been there for as long as I can remember. They have some of the best flavours and food, not to mention their really convenient spot in the middle of everything. I push open the door and the bell jangles merrily to announce my arrival. The girl behind the counter looks up with a small smile before her eyes seem to widen slightly.

"Well I'll be damned, it IS you, Avery!" She laughs, waving us over. "It's been what? Two years since you've transferred out of school to dance?" She seems familiar- though I can't seem to remember her name.

"Oh!" I exhale, recognition kicking in, "Elly Cartwright!" She grins "You work here now?"

"Part time, I'm saving up for a car. Now what would you like to eat?" She waves her hand at the vast array of colourful treats.

"I think I'll have the lemon sorbet. Evan will have the..." I trailed off, glancing at him.

"Mudpie, thanks." He looks bewildered, at most. After I pay, we find a booth to settle in, waiting for Dylan and his sister to turn up. I met the twins in my first year at Richardson's- They were one of the best I had ever seen. They graduated in my second year and went on to take solo roles in one of the newer companies. Danielle had taken me under her wing, though I couldn't quite fathom why, and I never lost contact with her since.

The cheerful jingling of the bell signals the arrival of another customer, but when I look over out of habit to see who it is, I break out into a wide smile. The girl that walks in is tall and curvy, nothing like the petite ballerinas that most see on stage. Her brown hair has been thrown up into a neat bun, a few strands curling out in rebellion. She is closely followed by a man with eerily identical features, slightly taller than her by an inch or two. Their bright blue eyes find mine easily as they make their way over, waving. "Avery!" Danielle greets, squeezing into the booth next to me, "What did you need us for?" Dylan is seated next to Evan, who looks constipated. I shrug off his odd facial expression before leaning over to give Dylan a one armed hug.

"Well," I start, "I'd like you to tell Evan how horrendous I was at the start of pax de deux classes, since he won't believe it coming from my mouth."

"Oh," Dylan laughs, "easy! The first time we did a supported fall, she was so worried I would drop her that she curled up into this ball mid drop and crashed onto the ground."

"You dropped Danielle!" I accuse, jabbing a thumb in her direction.

"Oh he did," she confirms, "that idiot over calculated the slope of the fish tail dive, so I ended up hitting the ground with my head." Dylan looks away, embarrassed. "Well, what about the time you kicked me while doing a foite turn?"

"I told you! Your big far leg was too far front!"

The small snack time lasts for an hour or so, and by the time we part ways, Evan is red faced with laughter.

"So," I say, swinging my arms, "feel any better?"

"Quite," he replies with a grin, "it's nice to know that great dancers like that started out like..."

"Idiots." I finish with a chuckle. "But that was what I was trying to show you. It doesn't matter how many times you drop me, because if you make no mistakes, you wouldn't have anything to learn from! Stop beating yourself up over that presagé lift, even I make mistakes." My mind flashes back to the Championships, where I literally danced my way to a victory with the ill timed grand jete. That was another one of my mistakes that I won't be able to rectify.

"Avery," Evan stops, smiling softly, "thank you." And he plants a gentle kiss on my cheek.