No One's Watching (13 page)

We stood, our knees and hip joints popping and cracking because our bodies had cooled down. I added my bag to the others next to the wall.

Mr. Hutchinson waved his hands around the room. “Spread out. Make some room for yourselves.”

“Wait a minute,” Amy whined. “We don't have any of those booklets.”

Shelly was busy stuffing some papers into her dance bag.

“I'm sorry. I thought I had made plenty.” Mr. Hutchinson scanned the room. “Will some of you be able to share?”

“Dude.” Jupiter tapped Blake on his arm.

Blake passed his booklet to Jupiter and grasped my booklet by the corner. “Mind?”

I shook my head, already loving this class. Blake and I dipped our heads into the workbook. The page had several vertical staffs with various geometric symbols clinging to each of them. Geometry wasn't my favorite class, but I could get used to it with this partner.

“Let's begin.” Mr. Hutchinson pointed in his booklet. “Look at figure A. In which position do we start?”

Shelly yanked Blake away from me and shoved Amy in his place.

“What the—” Amy swiveled back to Shelly who flapped her hand for her to stay.

Amy and I stared at each other as if this were a bad dream. It was. My heart sank to my knees. Why was Shelly bent on ruining everything for me? What had I ever done to her? I wanted to scream.

Instead, I inhaled. How could Shelly stand living in the same room with her for three weeks? My throat closed as a whiff of her scent flew up my nostrils. Pungent. Acrid. My eyes teared up.

Amy stepped closer to me. “You're not crying because Shelly took Blake away from you, are you?”

I held my breath and slid my eyes to Blake who held his hands out helplessly. I shook my head at Amy's question.

“Seriously, he couldn't be interested in someone like you. I'd know. I see him three times a week at our home ballet studio. Every girl there crushes on him because he's nice to everybody.” Amy grabbed the booklet. “Give me that.”

Blake and Shelly tilted their heads over the page. I blinked. There was Blake being all nice to Shelly. Just like he had been to me. Just like he was to our two Irish munchkins, Megan and Lindy. Was Amy right?

Mr. Hutchinson roamed the room. “Moving up the staff, what do we do with the striped symbol?” He pointed to the ceiling. “Pretend the lines inside it represent rafters in a room.”

Candace waved her arm. “
Relevé
.”

“Rise up.” Dira pointed up. “On the balls of your feet.”

“Good, good. Are we all in
relevé
? And the next symbols? With the black rectangles, pretend you're looking down an empty, deep hole.”

“
Plié
,” someone said.

“Bend your knees.” Riley bent so he was eye-to-eye with Candace.

She inched away.

Mr. Hutchinson peered over his booklet. “Careful. These symbols don't indicate movement.”

Amy ran her finger over the page. “Where are we?”

“If you let me see the sheet, I'll try to help you.” I peered over her elbow and pointed at the solid, black rectangles side-by-side. “We're here. We're supposed to be bending our knees.”

“Okay.” She squatted.

I eased her up with her elbow so her knees bent at less than a forty-five degree angle. “We're not supposed to go so low.”

Mr. Hutchinson tapped the same figure on his white board as on our sheets, a rectangle with a tiny rectangle above it like a toe: 
. “We haven't moved our feet anywhere so far. Try figure B on your own and see where you wind up.”

Amy buried her face in the booklet. “I see.” She strode off and collided with Dira.

“Sorry.” Dira backed away and blinked at me.

I shrugged.

“Keep going.” Mr. Hutchinson ran his hand down the booklet. “Try all the figures on page three.”

Chattering voices bubbled up in the room. Shelly laughed. Loudly.

I put on my happy dancer's face, acting like nothing bothered me. Maybe she'd forget about Mom and what kind of dance I was going to perform.
Yeah, right.

Amy and I moved to the different figures laid out on the page. She studied my face and frowned.

“I know why Shelly hates you.”

Non sequitur
.
Yup. Amy was full of them.

Mom warned me about talking like that. Jumping from one subject to another made it hard to follow my conversation. I wasn't sure if I wanted to pursue Amy's chat. Shelly laughed again. She and Blake were holding the booklet and waltzing.

“Did you hear me? I know why Shelly hates you.” Amy's eyes were a muddy brown. They were set so far apart she could see what was to her left and right at the same time. I'd never been this close to her. Not in all the years we'd been coming to the camp together.

She had a freckle on her check resembling a spot of chocolate I wanted to brush away. With a ten foot pole. Her face had an oily sheen spread over it as she leaned toward me.

“Hello? I'm speaking to you.” She snapped her fingers in my face.

“Umm.” I tipped away from her and her interestingly scented breath. Did I want to know why Shelly hated me?

Yes.

No.

Shelly and I had a balance. We hated each other. I hated her because she hated me. If I knew why she hated me, then that would disrupt the balance. I might have to forgive her. Or hate her more. And I found hating people to be totally draining. A part of me didn't want to know what, if anything, I had done to cause her so much grief.

We had vied for every solo Mom choreographed. We were evenly matched, except I was the quick, athletic one — like a tall
soubrette
dancer. Shelly was all
adagio
, slow and controlled. Balance. We had balance in everything. Even at school, where we avoided each other. I was good in English and reading. She was good in math and science. We never sat together at lunch.

Amy was in my face, waiting for an answer. I took a long, deep breath and immediately regretted it. The smell of rotten onions emanating from her didn't mesh with the memory of lunch. I choked back a gag. My throat stretched like it was going to burst.

The door to the studio was open. I bolted through it and dashed down the hall to the bathroom by the water fountain, throwing a door open to one of the cubicles and hanging my head over the toilet. I filled my mind with the red roses and pink geraniums Grandma had planted and tended every year, which grew beside the slate walkway from our house to the backyard studio. The primrose path, she called it, laughing as there were no primroses. The image of the fresh-smelling flowers pushed away the wave of nausea.

I was panting as I groped my way to the sinks and doused my face with water. Candace appeared in the doorway.

“Are you okay?” Her voice was strained. “When did you start feeling puny?”

Puny?
I rose to my full height, towering over Candace, and pulled paper towels from the dispenser. My face must've asked what my mouth didn't.

“Puny. You know, sickly.” She handed me more paper towels. “It must only be a Southern expression.”

“Sorry.” I shook my head. “I started to feel sick when Amy opened her mouth.” In more ways than one.

“I get it. Not enough mouthwash.” Candace giggled. “Class is almost over. You'll feel better after we watch a little TV with Dira and Nicki.”

“Maybe I should skip going with you guys to the TV room.” I wouldn't have to face anyone who saw me leave class early.

The bathroom was suddenly flooded with girls, so we left to get our dance bags and go to our room. I wanted to lie down and forget about class. It was only Thursday. One more day until the weekend where I planned to work out on my own in the studio.

Amy was right about Blake. A bunch of girls surrounded him as he laughed and listened to them. Jupiter was being Jupiter. Kind of borderline goofy. Shelly hovered close to Blake like a gnat.

I dashed to the wall where my dance bag and sandals sat and left in a hurry with Candace, Dira, and Nicki.

Once we were alone in the elevator, I convinced them I was okay.

Nicki leaned into Candace. “I think Riley likes you.”

Candace blushed. “I don't know why. He's not exactly my type. Can you see us doing a
pas de deux
? Him all skinny and tall, and me all short and round.”

“You're not round.” I shook my head.

“Somewhat round.” Candace stuck out her short, doll-like arms and legs. “If I cut my hair, I'd lose five pounds.”

We laughed as the elevator door opened on our floor. The hall was noisy with music and shouting. Candace and I followed Dira and Nicki to our side-by-side rooms.

“See you in five.” Dira turned the doorknob to their room.

Candace had opened our door and gone inside when I picked up some envelopes stacked in the mail bin next to the door.

Nicki told Dira as their door shut, “All I know is he's an awful kisser.”

I froze. How many guys had Nicki made out with at camp? Was Riley included in the count?

“Do you feel okay?” Candace came back into the hall and led me inside, shutting the door behind us. “Are you feeling puny again?” She took the envelopes from my hand and my dance bag from my shoulder.

I shook my head and sank onto my bed. Was Riley one of Nicki's “dates”? Or was she referring to someone else? Candace deserved a nice guy.

“Would you go out with Riley if he asked?” I liked to take the subtle way of figuring things out.

“Ah.” Candace shrugged. “Maybe. I don't know. He seems kind of desperate.”

I nodded and kicked my sandals off. “Yeah, he does. What about Danilo?”

“I like Danilo. We're about the same height. Plus he's nice and quiet.” Candace pulled out a fresh pair of tights and a royal blue leotard for our afternoon ballet class. Mme. Petrova wasn't particular about which color we wore. “I wish I'd paid more attention to him when we were in the hot tub. It was so relaxing, and I was trying to ignore Jupiter.”

I leaned against my pillow, my hands under my head. “You make a cute couple, you and Danilo.”

“So do you and Blake. I think he likes you.” She bit her lip.

I quoted Amy. “He's nice to everyone.”

“Hmmm.” Candace stared at the corner above my bed.

I glimpsed her clock on the bedside table. “You'd better hurry if you're going to meet Dira and, um, Nicki.” I made a mental note to keep Nicki away from Danilo.

“Right.” Candace hopped up and raced into the bathroom.

I rolled over and fingered the case for my flute. This Sunday, after I worked out in the studio by myself, I'd play a few songs. My reward for getting through a terrible week.

Candace burst out of the bathroom. “They're waiting on me in the hall. Will you be all right?”

I nodded. “I feel a lot better. Thanks.”

Candace picked up the envelopes on her bed. “Here's something to keep you busy. Two of these paper e-mails are for you.” She chuckled. “Paper e-mails. Get it?”

“I get it. Thanks.”

She tossed them on my bed and fled out the door. “I'll bring you some crackers from the vending machine.”

“Thanks. Later.”

I reached over to Candace's CD player and turned it on. The music was shrill in the still air. I silenced it and changed into another pair of new, pink tights from the college store. I pulled on a black short-sleeved leotard, too. My other new pair of tights hung in my closet, dry and stiff from when I washed them in the sink.

When I lay on my bed, my stocking feet crinkled the envelopes. I reached up for them. Grandma and Mom had sent letters in separate envelopes so it would look like I had more mail.

I tore open Grandma's thick, flowered envelope first. A ten dollar bill fluttered to my bed. On the front of the card, a picture showed a Dégas dancer tying her
pointe
shoes. Inside the card, Grandma's handwriting was scratchy and small. Not like my big, loopy scrawl. Under “Dear Kitri,” she had etched, “Buy yourself a souvenir!”

Her letter went on:

“Your mother and I miss you, but we're getting a lot done. I feel as good as new. My hip and knee have mended well.

“We're eager to watch you dance at the end of camp. I know you'll dance beautifully, and I'm so proud of you.

“I hope you're getting enough rest. Don't overstretch. You'll lose your strength for your fantastic leaps.

“Give the little Shelly a hug for me. I'm having lunch with Mrs. Traum next week at the new tearoom on Main Street.

“Love always,

Grandma”

Ugh. “The little Shelly.” Lunch with Shelly's mom could be dangerous.

Next, Mom's letter. All white and business-like. It would be written on plain white paper with blue lines. Both sides. No sense spending money we needed to save.