Overture (Ambler Elite #1) ★

9. Big Shocker

A/N: Cast up above!

After that, I managed to fall into the comforting feeling of long days at the studio. I stuck by Becca or Coral—there was strength in numbers—and avoided eye contact with Paige and Mindy. I even stayed away from Riley. Far away. I couldn't risk another situation when I was already on Mrs. Princeton's bad side.

After Snow, I didn't dance again until Waltz of the Flowers, which was towards the end of the second act. I got to sit with my back against the mirror, pointing and flexing my toes in their shoes and watching everyone else. Luckily, Paige didn't dance much in Act II either—it was pretty annoying to watch how good she was when she was so mean.

Mrs. Princeton dwelled a long time on the Level 5 and 6 dancers' Mother Ginger dance, which was the piece before Flowers. Now I was standing against the wall, sandwiched between Coral and Becca and waiting. Waiting was always, no question about it, the worst part of dancing. The compressed nerves slipped up up up until they were in my throat and all my muscles. It didn't matter that this was only a rehearsal. Everyone was watching, and I had major work to do to get back on Mrs. Princeton's good side.

"Ladies, I know for many of you this is your first performance on pointe, but you have to get over your box." Mrs. Princeton clapped her hands for emphasis, and one of the Level 6 girls jumped. "Work extra on stretching and strengthening outside of classes and rehearsals. We don't need wipe-outs on stage."

Ouch. I shifted from one foot to the other. One of the girls, who'd fallen out of her pirouette during the dance, looked like she was on the verge of tears.

"All right, you can clean this up later. Who's next? Flowers?"

Show time. Smoothing down my bun, I took my position in B-plus in the "wings". Unfortunately, my mandatory position put me way too close to Paige and Co. for comfort. Their whispers trickled over to me, unidentifiable murmurs that I was pretty sure were about me.

The worst part of Flowers was that Mindy was Dewdrop, which meant I'd had to endure her for countless rehearsals and now I had to share the stage with her. There was no greater ego booster than being the only soloist among a corps.

But if dance had taught me anything, it was to zone out everything else and focus during a performance. And that was exactly what I planned on doing today. No Mindy, no Paige, no Riley. Just me and the music.

We all started out in a little huddle center stage, obscuring Mindy from view. This required me to get up close with Mindy, but she wouldn't dare do anything to me with everyone watching. Then the music started, and I wasn't worried about Mindy anymore. Just my fluid port de bras, the tilt of my head. I had to be perfect.

We all bourréed away from Mindy. In her white rehearsal tutu and leg warmers, she looked professional. More professional than me. I'd settled for the typical black leotard pink tights combo. No skirt. No fancy warm-ups.

More port de bras. I dared a glance at myself in the mirror and saw a perfect picture. Then I rose on pointe, a mirror image of everyone else in the corps.

"Lindsey, watch your shoulders! Shoulders down!" Mrs. Princeton prowled the room, notebook in hand, shouting out critique. I wanted to get through the dance without her saying anything to me.

"Ever, watch your head! That's allongé!"

There went that. I corrected, exaggerating my next movement to make sure Mrs. Princeton saw I was listening.

Arabesque. Piqué. Spot. Mindy was center stage—where I wanted to be—dancing her glistening solo. For once Paige wasn't watching me. She watched Mindy with her eyebrows furrowed, arms crossed. Her lips were pursed in that way that let everyone know she wasn't happy.