As I run out and find a place in formation on stage, I clear my mind. Whatever is going on can wait until later. For now, I focus on the job that matters—fitting in with all other flowers.
“Areyour parents coming down to visit for Christmas?” Corinne asks after the second show of the evening. We’re both soaking our feet in buckets of ice water and Epsom salt, teeth chattering and blankets draped over our shoulders.
“No, not this year. They’ve seen me dance inNutcrackera thousand times. The plane ticket is too expensive during the holidays. The plan is to go home for New Year’s.”
“Do you want to come with me to my parents’ place? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. We’ll probably have so many people over that they won’t even notice I’m home.” She chuckles.
As tempting as that sounds, I was over at Corinne’s home for Christmas the previous two years. Her parents are kind, but I still hate being the only non-family member present. Luckily, I’m saved from having to answer by two loud knocks on the door.
“It’s open,” I call out.
Julie, Artem’s assistant, pokes her head into theroom. “Minerva. Corinne. Good, you’re both still here. Artem would like to see you two.”
Corinne and I hurriedly remove our feet from the buckets of ice, splashing a small amount of water onto the floor. When Artem requests a meeting with you, there isn’t any time to waste. He’s all business and expects a person to drop whatever they are doing to cater to him.
“We’ll be right there,” we both chirp.
“Great. He’ll see you first, Corinne, then you, Minerva. I’ll let him know you guys are on your way up.”
“I wonder what he wants.” I toss a towel to my best friend. “He’s usually out of here as soon as the curtain drops.”
“Itisthe end of the year, so maybe he’s giving out promotions!” Corinne’s eyes glaze over.
I know that she’s retreated into her head and is daydreaming about being promoted to soloist. Since the day we both received our first contracts with the Los Angeles Ballet Theatre three years ago, it’s been all Corinne has ever wanted. She’s a shoo-in to receive it too.
Corinne has that rare aura that captivates an audience from the moment she steps out onto the stage. But more than that, she’s one of the hardest-working people out there.
“Yeah, I bet that’s it.” I flash her a cheeky grin. “Just don’t forget about us little people when you move into your own big, shiny dressing room.”
“He wants to see you too, Min.” She slips on her flip-flops and hugs me tightly. “I bet that means you’re about to become a soloist too!”
The corners of my eyes crinkle. I wish I could share her enthusiasm. “Uh, yeah.”
She walks toward the door. “Meet you back here afterward?”
I nod. “Uh-huh. You’re my ride home.”
She chuckles, disappearing down the corridor. I exhale and take a few more moments to dry my feet. I want more than anything to be able to feel Corinne’s positivity, but all my muscles are tense. I feel like I’m a pirate who’s just been ordered to walk the plank.
Artem wanting to see me can’t be good news. I try and remember the last time he called me up to his office. My mind draws a blank. The only conversation of note that comes to mind is from the day he gave me a contract.
I swallow hard and ascend the last set of stairs to the administrative floor. Posters from the various productions LABT has staged over the years adorn the walls. The lights are all dimmed except for the set directly outside the artistic director’s office.
I hear a squeal and Corinne exclaiming, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I can’t wait to tell my family. This has to be the best early Christmas gift ever!”
“You’re welcome,” Artem says.
The door bolts open. Corinne gives me two big thumbs-up.
“Congratulations,” I manage, then give her a tight hug.
“Thanks! Now it’s your turn!”
I nod and watch as she skips out of sight. Closing my eyes, I take another big deep breath, then tap my knuckles against Artem’s door.
“Come in,” his deep voice beckons.
I square my shoulders and march inside with as much confidence as I can muster. I pretend I’m on stage, performing for an audience.
