Red Pointe Shoes

Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

The next day passes slowly, agonizingly- in fact, in a routine of normalcy that mocks my wariness and fear every time I look behind to see if I'm alone, or when I hear phantom footsteps chasing me down the corridor. My dreams last night have been plagued with his face, his fists and his feet. They rain blows down upon me that are neither fast nor slow, all landing to the echoing rhythm of sharp bells and sharper whispers. My nightmares are a whirlpool of sounds, images and pain that don't seem to come together. Instead, they push and they pull me along in their current, refusing me escape. My sleeplessness shows through the dark eye circles that dangle beneath my weary eyes, and through the extra effort I have to exert for simple movements in class that day.

"Avery," My instructor had called, "put more life into your work! This is Coppelia, not Giselle!" Yes- our end of year item had been released this morning over the sound system, eliciting either disappointed sighs or jubilent squeals. Coppelia is a fairly well known story of an inquisitive girl named Swanhilda, who was betrothed to a man named Frantz. However, the young man Frantz had been idiotic enough to fall for a mysterious girl- Coppelia, who was the daughter of an equally elusive man named Coppelius. Swanhilda, being the jealous fiancee, decided to sneak in after finding a key to the house that Coppelius dropped, and discovered that Coppelia was nothing but a lifeless automaton! At the same time, Frantz- the cheating bastard, decided to climb in through the window to see what luck he had with Coppelia. As you can imagine, he was caught by Coppelius. Total drama, mayhem and such ensued. If I had been feeling better, I might have ranted to someone how stupid Swanhilda was to marry Frantz after all that, but then again, I wasn't, so there.

"Are you okay?" Evan asks, his concerned eyes peeking at me from below his lashes. "You were really out of it in class today."

"Yeah," I wave it off, stifling a yawn. "I couldn't sleep last night."

"Too excited about our date?" He smirks, with a touch of his usual wit.

"Yeah," I manage a smile, "the date I asked you out on."  He wrinkles his nose in rememberance.

"No, no," Evan shakes his head adamantly, "I distinctively remember that it was I who asked you out on said date." I give him a withering look before hooking my arm through his, leading him towards the gates of the school. "So where are we going again?"

"It's a surprise," I grin, "but I think you'll love it." Well he better- I did spend quite a good amount of free time thinking about where to take Evan. Over dinner in the cafeteria yesterday, he had insisted upon being the one to organize it, but I had reminded him that as the one to initiate the idea, I had sole rights over planning it. Nat, being the wonderfully traditional girl she was, found the idea horrific and spent a good few minutes insulting the poor boy in the privacy of our room. 

"I can't believe it! He gave in! He let you plan it!" My raven haired friend yelled as she threw her pointe shoes on her bed. "Is he a man or a woman?!" While I admit that it was pretty amusing to see her worked up over a small matter, I did feel the need to defend him. 

"If he's a woman, then I'm a man. Is that what you're saying?" I challenged, arching an eyebrow at her. Nat only shook her head and gave up. 

***

I bounce on the balls of my feet nervously as I sneak sidelong glances at Evan. The dim lights make it hard to see, but there is no missing the smile that grows on his face. His mouth opens and shuts a few times before he finally turns and envelopes me in a hug, practically vibrating with excitement. Laughing, I guide him to the entrance, pulling my cardigan closer around me as the air grows colder. "Excuse me," I nudge my way to a counter, "a size nine and a size seven please."  The acne ridden teenage boy behind the counter sets down his ridiculously common IPhone for a moment before grabbing two skates and dumping them in front of me. He then returns to texting, without so much as a glance up. I grab the heavy boot like shoes and find the nearest bench to pull them on and lace them up. My feet are no strangers to the hard, restrictive feel of these ice skates.

"Woah," Evan laughs, stumbling up from his seat, "is this how pointe shoes feel like?" I giggle at his wobbly attempts before rising smoothly and winding a hand around his elbow to steady him.

"Yeah," I reply, leading him to the ice, "only less heavy and clumpy." He whistles lowly before setting a foot on the scarred white surface hesitantly, glancing back at me with an adorably frightened expression. 

"You can go first?" He squeaks, stepping aside with a little difficulty. I laughingly smirk at him before pushing a skate onto the ice, only to wobble like card tower before grabbing onto the railing, trying to block out his muffled snickers. It has been a few years since I last set foot on the ice- as a potential ballerina, it was apparently too dangerous. I straighten whilst clearing my throat, settling into a pretentious dignified air, sliding to the side slightly to allow Evan entrance. 

"Please don't fall," I caution as he does a few experimental nudges of his feet, "you know how furious Madame will get if you're injured." 

"You're being dramatic," He scoffs, something flashing in his eyes as he grips the handrail, "it's going to be easy to get someone to replace me as an automaton." However, as soon as it's there, it's gone, replaced by his easy going smile. Perhaps, too easygoing.

"Ridiculous," I shake my head, "no one makes a better doll than you." Evan manages a real reluctant grin.

"I don't even know if that's a compliment or an insult." 

"Either way works!" And with that, I find my feet and skate away, leaving him stranded at the side.

About after two hours of skating, or an average attempt at it, Evan and I can finally manage laps without falling on our behinds. The cold wind whips across my face pleasantly as I push forward, catching up with Evan's figure in front. When I pass, I reach out and grab the long sleeve of his jacket teasingly, causing him to pitch forward, arms flailing. He mock glares at me, scrambling to get up from the ice. "You'll pay  for that!"

"How unoriginal," I call back, already making my escape. In his haste, the poor boy leaned forward too much and toppled again, causing me to crack up in laughter. 

"Oi! Watch out!" 

My head whips to the side, alarmed to see another skater trying to stop unsuccesfully, threatening to skate over Evan's prone form. I swear under my breath, desperately skating forward. As the guy approaches, I shove the heel of my palm into his stomach, and two locked fingers into his sternum in a move commonly  used in the Underground to repel an approaching attacker. The man slips and falls backwards, sprawled out on the ice. There is a moment of indecision as to whether I should help Evan up first, or if I should check if the guy's okay. That's solved when I feel a hand on my shoulder, distinctly Evan's.

"I'm suddenly quite cold," He says elusively, already backing away, "should we get hot chocolate?"

"That sounds like a great idea," I agree nervously, turning back only to mouth an apology at the man who's already being helped up. So, that was how our first date ended. There was no romantic kiss on the ice, nor one of those famed cosmic moments, but that was fine with me. It had been full of laughter, mishaps and Evan.

So I suppose, it was succesfull.