The Royal Scandal | Prince William |

The Start of Disaster

February 9, 2001

"Now ladies when you fondue you can't just stare straight," Monsieur Michael then proceeded to demonstrate a rigidly stiff and over exaggerated fondue. "You have to sink into the floor with everything you have, and then stretch to the top, and before you come down you have to stretch a little more getting that lovely gooey sensation."

Jaclyn took the barre with her hand and followed the other with her eyes as it allongéd, swooped under into a nice first position, and then swept up to fifth her head angled to the side. Usually Michael didn't teach their morning technique class, he only came in when he needed to observe.

Despite, all of them trying to keep it on the down low, they all knew why he was there.

The pink slip.

Which meant, even though he wasn't looking at her particularly, if he gave a correction Jaclyn was going to immediately apply it. If he said make your fondue ooey and gooey he meant make your fondue ooey and gooey.

With a quick side glance at Emma, who stood on the other side of Jaclyn's barre, Monsieur Michael clapped his hands twice and moved on to frappé. "The pattern is single en croix, double en croix, petite fondue front and back, and plié fouette into an en dedans pirouette." He explained not demonstrating a single a step, one of the reasons technique with him was torture. While in rehearsal he would go all out he felt technique class was a time to refrain knowledge so he tested their comprehension of terminology.

"Phenomenal execution, Natania," Monsieur gushed to the petite dancer in front of Jaclyn who's feet might as well have been as sharp as daggers. It wasn't surprising this was her thing after all.

Jaclyn executed the combination remembering to angle her head, and pull up on her hip so her working knee didn't bounce with each beat. "Beat, beat, hold Jaclyn," he critiqued in his usual sing song voice, "enunciate the count, and a one, and a two."

Quickly she shifted the pacing of her movements making the beats faster so the actual frappé lingered in the air a bit more.

Class continued and by the time they got to center every girl was coated in a thin layer of sweat.

"Now ladies the key to a nice Adagio is to hold the leg at the exact same height and not let it waver. It's more than flexibility, it's strength." He paced the studio monologuing like they were stuck on a Shakespearean stage. They all just stood still hanging on to each of his words.

"Miss Branson, please come up to the front."

Emma ran forward on her toes her arms extending, which was new. Clearly, she was trying to be on her best behavior, and Monsieur Michael was eating it up. "Developpé Á la seconde."

Doing as she was told she extended her leg out so it was very much above ninety degrees. Her foot bobbled her leg twisting awkwardly for a brief second, but otherwise she held on.

"Now bring it to the front," he instructed. If the two of them were a sitcom, then everyone else would have been the invisible audience that gasped and cheered.

The second Emma's leg moved forward it dropped, she didn't have the psoas strength to hold her leg that high devant. Jaclyn knew what lesson he was trying to get across now. It didn't matter how high you could get your leg if you sacrifice your good technique.

She wanted to turn and not watch the poor girl hop and roll in on her foot trying to keep control, but her eyes stayed focused on the mirror. Then at least it was like watching the suffering through a screen.

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"Do you know what's going on with Emma?" Jaclyn asked Natania as the girls slipped on their boots. They had approximately ten to fifteen minutes to get to the library for English. However, the lanky but strong brunette stood in the corner of the practice studio a scowl on her face. She looked as if she was glaring right into Jaclyn's soul, all while not focusing at all.