Another three minutes pass. The music crescendos, and finally, our pace slows. I’m breathing heavily through my nose as I fight to keep the features of my face neutral. It isn’t until the curtains close that I’m finally able to exhale and allow my body to relax.
I hear families in the audience getting up from their seats to take advantage of the fifteen-minute intermission. Odds are that the children need to use the restroom while the adults slip into the bar area for a glass of champagne. They’ll linger in the lobby chatting aboutThe Nutcracker’sfirst act until they hear the bell signaling for them to return to their seats for the second half—the journey through the land of the sweets.
Behind the scenes, it’s a rat race. The technical crew rushes out onto the stage to vacuum the fake snow. The props team begins to exchange the wintery scenery for the palace of the Sugar Plum Fairy.
“Are you in Flowers today?” I ask.
Corinne’s hands make quick work of unpinning her tiara. “No, I’m in Spanish.”
“Nice one!”
“What about you?”
“Just Flowers.” A look of surprise crosses her face. “Oh, I thought... er, well... never mind.”
“What did you think?”
We enter the dressing room and each seat ourselves at our makeup tables. I begin to unpin my own tiara.
“I thought I’d heard that they were short-handed for the “Dance of the Mirlitons.” Lily has the flu. You’re the understudy, aren’t you?”
The pins in my hand clatter onto the table. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I didn’t check the casting sheets after class this morning.”
“Minerva! You’d better go check. We only have twelve minutes.”
Jumping to my feet, I rush out the door and down the hall. My clunky pointe shoes fill the empty space with a clatter. Whyhadn’tI thought to check the list?
The answer is easy—I hadn’t wanted to get my hopes up. I’m not one of the artistic director’s favored dancers. He’d only put me in a featured role if there were an injury or an illness. Yes, it happens often during the busyNutcrackerrun, but I’m still at the bottom of his list. Sometimes I wonder if he even knows my name.
Reaching the corkboard next to the medical trainingroom, I come to an abrupt stop and run my finger over the call sheet.
Snow—Minerva Hana
Waltz of the Flowers—Minerva Hana
Dance of the Mirlitons—Eileen Wood, Sage Hunter, Viola Beech
My breath hitches. Lily isn’t listed, but Sage and Viola are? This doesn’t make any sense? Why would they be in Mirlitons instead of me? They’re apprentices, not members of the corps.
I double check the list once more. Nope. I was right the first time. In fact, as my finger travels down the paper, I realize that I’m the only corps dancernotto be given a featured role in the shows scheduled for today.
“Minerva!” I jump at the sound of my name. The ballet mistress has her hands on her hips, her brow furrowed. “Why haven’t you changed yet? You’re due on stage in five minutes!”
“I heard Lily was out and?—”
“She is, but Artem decided not to use you. Now go, you don’t have any time to waste.”
My stomach muscles clench, and in four minutes, I’ve performed the fastest quick-change of my life. I’m back at the stage wings with a minute to spare. I’ll have to manage with the pointe shoes I have on, even if they feel like they’re about to die.
“Did you get it all sorted out?” Corinne asks. She’s wearing a black-and-gold Spanish dress.
“Yes,” I wheeze, still slightly out of breath. “I’m just doing Flowers. Viola and Sage are subbing for Lily.”
The audience claps and the orchestra begins to play the overture for the second act. The curtain rises and the SugarPlum Fairy bourrées across the stage on the tips of her toes as if she’s floating through the air.
Corinne frowns. “What?”
I don’t have time to reply, however, as the stage manager nods for us to make our first appearance.
