“Don’t tell me you’ve never looked at Fernando,” Lucy asks Audrey.
“Of course I’ve looked at him. He’s my dance partner, remember?”
Audrey’s tone is condescending, but it takes more to put off Lucy. She just rolls her eyes, and she and Anouk start laughing.
“Come on, Mia,” Lucy says, “tell us the gossip about level five.”
I shrug. “There’s not much to tell. We just work really hard.”
Audrey lets out a deep exhale. “Yep. We give everything we can and then, no matter how perfect we are, Monsieur Dabrowski complains that the look on our face isn’t quite right.”
“Nobody’s perfect,” Anouk says.
“Except for Audrey.” I mean it as a joke, but it’s kind of true. I glance at her, checking her reaction, and she answers with a small smile.
“It’s still not enough,” she says sadly.
We all fall silent. I would never trade my spot in a million years, but, yeah, being in level five is a lot to deal with sometimes. I look at Audrey’s sloped shoulders as she rubs her cloth napkin mindlessly. She can seem so tough, unaffected. I guess that’s what Monsieur Dabrowski meant about her Odette solo. It’s strange to see her looking vulnerable now.
As we finish eating, we change the topic to thecrêpeswe just had. Mine was perfect, but Lucy positively gushes about hers, which was full ofcrème fraîcheand mushrooms.
Then we head straight to the boat. A nightclub on the water. Anouk was right. No IDs, no questions, just four ballerinas grabbing drinks and marching onto the dance floor. There are lots of trendy-looking young people: girls in dresses and high heels, boys in crisp white shirts and hipster sneakers. I recognize many students from school: Fernando is here along with a few others from level five, and Lucy and Anouk take us straight to where their classmates are hanging. The DJ blasts the latest hits over the speakers, and there are purple lights near the floor, making everyone look like they’re floating. The music pulses through my body. It’s so loud that I can’t hear my own thoughts. It’s just music and sweat and bodies and drinks sloshing everywhere. It’s so fantastically the opposite of everything about ballet that I feel my entire body relax. I love it.
The boat departs, and the city begins drifting by. Lucy grabs my hand in excitement. “Let’s go outside,” she says.
I wave at Anouk and Audrey, who follow us to the back of the boat. When we arrive, we can see the most epic view of Notre-Dame lit up against the night sky in all its glory. Pinch me. Seriously.
“I love it here!” Lucy screams into the wind in front of us. “Let’s ditch school and just do this every night.”
Anouk laughs, but I can feel Audrey tense up next tome.
“The only problem,” Anouk adds, “is that we’re rehearsingSwan Lakeall of tomorrow. Madame Millet will be teaching us the choreography, so we can’t miss that.”
I shoot Audrey a glance. Madame Millet is themaître de balletfor level four, but the rest confuses us both equally.
“You’re still learning the choreography?” I ask, slightly amazed. “We’re supposed to have memorized it all by now.”
“Memorized? That’s crazy!” Lucy says.
Anouk spins around on demi-pointe and laughs. “But that means you get to spend more one-on-one rehearsal time with Fernando.”
I lean over the balustrade, breathing in the fresh air of a sweet summer night. “Yeah, it’s not really like that.” Our boat passes under Pont-Royal, away from Notre-Dame.
“Get the hint, Mia,” Lucy says, gently kicking her elbow in my side. “Anouk is trying to ask if anyone in your class has eyes on Fernando. Or, more importantly, if Fernando has eyes on anyone.”
Anouk blushes slightly but perks up as she awaits my answer.
I’m sorry to disappoint her. “I honestly have no idea. I haven’t paid attention to the guys in class.”
Audrey gives me the side-eye. “That’s true. Mia has only been paying attentionoutsideof class.”
Lucy’s and Anouk’s faces light up, thirsty for gossip.
“Ooh, Mia,” Anouk says in a singsong voice.
“She keeps getting all these text messages,” Audrey adds.
“It’s just…,” I start.
