I sigh as I unlock the door.
“This is too important, for both of us,” she adds.
“I promise,” I say quietly. The hall inside is silent. “I want this to go perfectly as much as you do.”
“No one wants this as much as I do.”
She goes up the stairs two at a time and disappears off in front of me. As I follow her slowly, I wonder if she’s right. I’ve always wanted to be a dancer more than anything else, but something feels different now.
Is it me? Is it Louis—his gorgeous eyes and devastating, distracting smile? Or is Paris sweeping me off my feet? I squeeze my eyes tight, trying to shake the sleepiness from them. Whatever it is, there’s only one way this summer can end for me: by winning ABT’s heart and returning home triumphant.
I’VE BEEN WORRYINGabout so many things that I almost forget that today is not a regular class day. Instead, to mark the halfway point of the program, we’re showcasing some of the dances we’ve practiced over the last two weeks. I’ve performed in front of an audience for so many years that it all feels natural to me: fighting for mirror space backstage to do my hair and apply a thick layer of makeup, slipping on my white tutu, and struggling to find a spot in the cramped space to tie up my pointe shoes.
“Girls inPaquita!” Monsieur Dabrowski calls out. “You’re starting in two minutes!”
Audrey checks her reflection in the mirror and gets up to join the other girls she’s dancing with. We’re only doing group dances today: no solos, no stakes, just an occasion for ourmaîtres de balletto observe our progress in a more formal setting. Each of us gets to perform twice, and our outfits reflect the simplicity of the day: all white for level fives, all black for everyone else.
The clock edges closer to showtime, and I take a deep breath as my stomach begins to tie in a knot. I’ve been expecting it. In fact, I welcome it. No ballerina dreams of dancing in front of a mirror at the barre. We only put up with months of practice so we can get a chance to dance onstage for a few minutes. So give me a bundle of nerves and a showcase any day. Give me a darkened room full of mostly strangers, and I’ll skitter out in front of them, determined and focused on the outside, full of pride and joy on the inside.
But before I head to the wings, I unlock my phone and glance for the millionth time at the message Louis sent me this morning.
Good luck at the showcase!
I haven’t seen him since Sunday, two days ago. I considered asking him if he would be here, and then reality called and set me straight. As much as I want to be with Louis, Odile and my dreams of ABT have to come first. Still, I miss him. We’ve exchanged a few texts, but he hasn’t suggested another date yet. And I probably shouldn’t, for all the reasons that have been blaring warning signs in the back of my mind. I push Louis out of my thoughts as Audrey’s group takes the stage.
A few students are gathered in the wings to watch, and I join them. The girls are dancing a piece fromGiselle.As they get into position, I glance around at the room.Maîtres de balletand staff occupy the first two rows, while the rest of the audience is half-filled with unfamiliar faces: the family and friends of the few local students who were able to pop by on a Tuesday afternoon. I’m about to turn my attention back to the stage when I spot them.
My eyes narrow, trying to make sure I’m really seeing Aunt Vivienne and Madeleine in the third row. Vivienne is wearing a bright floral dress, her white bag placed neatly on her lap, while Madeleine is chic in all navy with a large gold pendant. I can’t believe they’re here! I didn’t tell them about the showcase; in fact, I didn’t even know what day it would be when I last saw them.
I search my memory, trying to figure it out. I told Mom I’d be performing today, but she didn’t sound too interested in the details. Come to think of it, Grandma Joan was at ourhouse when I called. I don’t think I mentioned what time it was, but maybe she figured it out and asked them to come?
When it’s my turn, I run to center stage to take my starting position along with several other girls from level five. Irisk a glance down toward Madeleine and Vivienne. Madeleine notices and gives me a small wave. She leans over to her mom, and then Vivienne is waving, too, so enthusiastically that a few people start to notice. It’s the kind of thing that would drive me nuts at home—as snobbish as it sounds, everyone should know that you do not distract a dancer when she’s about to take the stage—but coming from my elderly aunt, it makes me smile. She barely knows me, and yet she seems so excited to be here. The flutters in my stomach double. By the end of my performance, I want my great-great-aunt to know that I’m destined to become a professional ballet dancer.
I may not know much about her at all, but my great-great-great-grandmother, the infamousdanseuse étoile,is behind my every step. Her destiny is mine, too, and carries me across the stage.Bourrée, waltz turn, piqué, arabesque…and on we go, across and around the stage, to the tune of “The Waltz of the Snowflakes” fromThe Nutcracker.
My feet float off the ground with great energy, and my movements come together almost effortlessly. Still, I wish Louis were here. It’s annoying to admit, but maybe I should have asked him to come. It’s not until we finish up that I realize that I’ve landed slightly in front of the other girls. We should be in one straight line, but I’m about half a foot forward. I shuffle backward, slowly and discreetly, as the room erupts in applause. Looking up to see all the delighted faces makes me forget everything else. We take a bow, and when we come up again, everyone in the audience is standing. I smile brightly as I catch my breath. Nothing is more rewarding than sending a room full of people into a frenzy of rapturous delight. I’m going to chase after this feeling performance after performance, for the rest of my life.
Vivienne and Madeleine are waiting for me in the main hall of the school.
“Ma Mia!”Vivienne says, cupping my face with her hands. She plants a wet kiss on each of my cheeks.
“Merci!”I say. Then I search my words for a moment and gather up every bit of French I know to say how touched I am that they came all this way.“Merci beaucoup d’être là! C’est tellement gentil d’être venues.”
Vivienne beams back at me, clearly impressed with my progress. I turn to Madeleine. “How did you know?” I ask in French, still giddy from the show.
“Louis called us,” Madeleine says slowly. Vivienne’s face lights up even more at the mention of Louis, and I’m pretty sure mine does, too.
“Louis?” I say, louder than I intended.
The hall is packed with students, instructors, and all the audience members. Everyone is chatting happily; only Audrey hangs back by herself nearby. I smile at her and give her a nod that I hope is saying,You were great.She shoots me a funny look back. I wonder if that’s because Vivienne and Madeleine are here—proof that I do spend time with my family. I don’t have time to think about it more because behind her, talking with Max, Émilie, and Sasha—is Louis. He senses me looking and catches my eye, but only for a brief moment. “Thank you,” I mouth. He smiles discreetly, and then turns back to his friends. My heart skips a beat. I’d love to go ask him what he thought of my performance right now, but these secret encounters have a thrilling romantic flair about them.
Between Madeleine’s basic English and my broken French, I gather the rest of the story. A few days ago, Louis called Vivienne to thank her again for dinner. She told him she hoped I’d visit again, but Louis reminded her that I might not have time. He mentioned the showcase, and that I’d be so happy if they came to see me dance. Louis even went as far as picking up my two relatives from Gare de Lyon.
“Mom really likes Louis,” Madeleine says with a suggestive smile.
Me too, I think. But I don’t need to say it out loud; I’m pretty sure they can tell from the look on my face. I turn around to see if he’s still there, but the hall has emptied out, and there are only a handful of students left.
“We will go soon,” Madeleine explains. “Mom is worried about missing the train home,” she adds with a laugh. It takes me a second to get what she means. It feels like a lifetime ago that I ran out of her car to find the train station locked.
