“Good morning, Mr. V.,” the company answers back.
“I have some exciting news. We'll of course be doing our annual two week run of The Nutcracker in December.”
This isn't his big news. This is just the introduction.
A barely audible sense of grumbling ripples through the room. We all fucking hate The Nutcracker. And we hate it because it's the only ballet most people know anything about. And we have to perform it every single year with no deviations. It doesn't rotate in and out like many other repertoire ballets. It's just always there. I don't know a single professional dancer who feels giddy about The Nutcracker.
Mr. V. ignores the response, largely because it's an involuntary reaction for the most part, and it happens every year. Then he continues.
“However, in a few weeks, we’ll start working on Firebird. We have a guest choreographer coming in with exciting new choreography I know everyone will love. The full cast list is posted beside my office door. But I would like to take a moment to announce a promotion and welcome our new principal dancer, Cassia Lane.”
There's a ringing in my ears as I try to determine if he really just said my name or if I got lost in a fantasy again. But Mr. V. is looking right at me and smiling warmly. “Cassia will be our firebird this season.”
I know my mystery blackmailer said he could elevate me. I wanted to believe it, but deep down I didn't. Now I do. The depth of his silent power here is astounding.
I could tell myself Mr. V. just saw something in me and made the decision in concert with the others at the head of the company, but Conall was paying to keep me in the corps. That means his donation was at least matched to get me here, otherwise my talent could never overcome the economics of the situation.
“I've been working privately with Cassia to get her up to speed with the rest of the principals,” Mr. V. adds. In this single statement, he's just saved my reputation—offering a neat explanation for his Monday afternoons with me in the small private studio. He's saved me from being viewed as some whore who let him between my legs for a promotion, not that anyone in the company doubts my legitimate talent.
Everyone is stunned. I hear whispers from some of the principals. The only clear sentence I can pick out among the murmurs is: “That role should be Natalie's.”
I glance over to Natalie. She looks shocked as well. I know she wanted this role. I know she expected to have this role. Only moments ago, when the new Firebird was announced, she was no doubt excited, imagining herself soaring through the air in a fiery red costume. And I can't blame her for that.
This woman has the power to ruin my life at the company. She has the power to make every day a living hell for me. She's a senior principal and the top prima ballerina here, and by right, all the best roles are hers. Every dancer here defers to her. They respect her.
Natalie moves from her place at the barre with the other principals and crosses the studio to me with purpose. There is absolute pin-drop silence. I can almost hear the sound of a slap across my face. But the expected retribution doesn't happen.
Instead, she smiles and hugs me and whispers in my ear. “You will make a beautiful firebird. You deserve this. I'm so happy for you.”
This is a severe break in ballet etiquette, but no one chastises her because every single person in this studio from the ballet master down to the newest member of the corps knows that this is important. If Natalie accepts me, they all accept me.
She takes my hand and guides me over to the set of barres where the principals stand, and room is made for me. Then everyone in the studio, previously frozen by this news and Natalie's actions, breaks out into applause. Mr. V. nods his approval at Natalie as if he had no doubt she would be classy about this.
Rehearsal starts as though nothing monumental and world changing just happened to me.
When we break for lunch, Natalie guides me back to the special set of dressing rooms reserved for the principals. There’s a large dressing room for the men and one for the women. Each dancer has a generous specific space to get ready in. In the middle, connecting the two dressing rooms, is a large lounge. It's reminiscent of a school teacher's lounge in a way or an office break room.
There are tables and a refrigerator and microwave, a counter and a sink. There are a few couches and a large flat screen TV on the wall and a video game console. The other walls are covered in dance posters. I've never seen the inside of this room. It's a perk for the principals.
Natalie shows me to a place of my very own in the women's side of the dressing rooms, and then she takes me out into the hallway to a private space to talk. My heart is in my throat. Is this when the mask slips? Is she going to let the claws out now? Is she going to beat the crap out of me so I can't dance and take this role from her?
Before she can speak, I say, “Natalie, I'm so sorry... I didn't know they would... I had no idea about any of this... that part should be yours.” And it should be.
But she's still smiling—not a fake smile. “Cassia, relax. I'm not mad. You really do deserve this. It hasn't been announced yet, but I'm leaving at the end of the season and moving to another company.”
“But why...?” Maybe she got a better offer. And it's not my business anyway. Natalie Dumas is a fixture here. It seems impossible that she could ever leave.
She shrugs and laughs. “I'm in love. He's a principal at the company I'm joining. Long distance was getting too hard for us. There was finally an opening, and I auditioned a few weeks ago. So yes, I would love to be the firebird—especially with new choreography. But my future isn't here. And yours is.”
“Do the others know yet?”
She shakes her head. “No, I just found out recently. I told the director before the performance last Thursday, and he asked me not to say anything until today. Listen, when I'm gone, you're going to be the queen bee around here.”
I balk at that. That's ridiculous. “But I only just got promoted...”
She shakes her head. “You know that's not how this hierarchy works. You're my replacement. They want you at the top of the company. If they didn't, they wouldn't make you the firebird in the middle of the season. They're making a definite statement with this choice. They didn't tell me this ahead of time, but trust me on this one. You're their new star. So when I leave, I need you to keep the group together. Don't let it devolve into nasty cattiness. This company works better when we all support each other.”
It's a myth that all dancers are vicious competitive assholes to each other. At the same time, people are human, and at some companies, dancers are vicious competitive assholes to each other. But not here, and the reason for that is Natalie.
