A smirk spreads wide across her mouth and I have to admit, the sight is quite enjoyable. It’s addictive and I want more of it.
After the kids’ class is over, Madam Tissot, a petite woman with fierce eyes, says, “You brought me a giant?”
Cateline makes introductions and I get a strict, no-nonsense vibe from the ballet teacher, much like my first impression of Cat.
I clap my hands together and ask, “What do you have for me, coach?”
“You may call me Madam Tissot.” With her French accent, she leaves theToff the end. “We will warm up, then move to the barre.”
“If those little girls can do it, so can I.”
The two women chuckle.
For the next sixty minutes, Madam Tissot has me feeling like a pretzel and feeling all the pretzels I’d eaten. I wake up and work muscles that I didn’t realize I had—and if Cateline’s smile of appreciation while she watches me is any indication, I have a lot of them.
It isn’t lost on me that something shifted between us upon leaving Blancbourg manor. It’s as if there, we were locked in certain roles—two generals trying to gain the upper hand in the war— by going out into the world, we’ve let down our defenses slightly.
Maybe more than slightly.
Madam Tissot starts me with a primary practice of positions and then I dorelevés, pliés, andtendus. I’m strong but have to hold the barre for balance.
From a bench on the side, Cateline watches, her lips quirking every so often as though imagining me wearing a tutu. If Madam Tissot had one that fit me, I’d wear it just to see her smile and laugh—a rarity. Then again, she has a lot on her plate with theschool and I suppose that I’ve been a bit of a handful...or right now, an eyeful.
I like that we’ve been joking around. It’s nice to see her playful side...and worth noting that she’s a master prankster. This one takes first place. But it’s the kind of tough workout I live for, so I can’t complain.
All the while, Madam Tissot explains that the practice will help strengthen my ligaments, improve my balance, and help me maintain focus, which will help me on the field.
The only problem is, it’s hard not to focus on Cateline seated across the room.
Once we’re out the door, Cateline says, “You did a great job.”
“Thanks. I always give it my all.” Sweat pricks my skin as we step into the cool evening. “I have a newfound respect for ballet dancers.”
“You think the other guys would like to give it a try?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Then again, I doubt they’d object if you were their teacher.”
“Ha ha.”
I stop myself from saying that I wouldn’t mind seeing her in a leotard and watching her dance.
As we pass under a streetlamp, I glance down at Cateline at the same time she glances up at me. But we both quickly look away. Something is shifting between us and I hear my actual coach’s voice in my head, reminding me of his rules during our thirty days of reform school. I struggle with whether to let things lead where they will or slide things between us back into their proper place with banter, hateability, and teasing.
I have to keep my head in the game and my eyes off Cateline. I’ve never backed down from a challenge. Then again, I’ve never faced this particular kind.
One that wears a faint Mona Lisa smile like she knows a secret, whose eyes sparkle when they catch in the light, or that has legs that slay.
The following afternoon,after lessons, I accompany Cateline to Intherness’s version of City Hall to find out about registering the manor as a historic site. The woman behind the desk has ashen skin that matches her hair. If I didn’t know better, I’d mistake her wheezy voice as belonging to a historic relic.
She takes her job very seriously and seems reluctant to share what sounds like the complicated process of registering a building. There are rules about usage, upkeep, repairs and changes, conservation, and maintaining the grounds in a distinct way. After we gather information and are given about a dozen forms to fill out, we exit onto the street.
Cateline’s usually perfect posture sags. She looks exhausted, if not a little daunted.
“The pretzels here in Concordia are delicious, but I hear this place is famous for its chocolate cake,” I say facetiously.
“Like the kind we serve at the school? It’s the royal recipe.”
“I think you could use a slice right about now.” I nudge Cateline with my elbow.
