Page 38 of Master of My Heart

A while later, Martin and the other judges walked out of the wings and onto the stage. All except Martin walked down the ramp to a table that had been set up on top of the enclosed orchestra pit.

Martin clapped his hands twice, but he already had everyone’s attention. “Please push your bags behind the barres, then line up in the center in numerical order. Ten in the front row and ten in the back.”

Sabrina pushed her bag back and found her place. Second from the end in the back row.

“Stand easy for a few minutes while we get a look at you. We just want to remember who you are.” The judges shuffled papers as they studied the front row for several minutes. Then Martin instructed the front row to line up at the barres while the second row stepped forward. Sabrina bit her lip and avoided looking at Jayson. Papers shuffled again as she stared into the darkness at the back of the theater.

“Number forty-four, please come here. The rest of you, please line up, leaving her space.”

Number 43 smirked as Sabrina passed. She walked carefully up to the table, twisting her fingers around each other.

“Name?” Martin asked.

“S-Sabrina Mansfield.”

“What did you write on your form as an answer to why you danced?”

She blinked. “I think I wrote ‘Because I have to.’”

Martin smiled. “I wanted to make sure you were the same girl from yesterday. You look much healthier.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“What happened for this change to occur?”

She glanced down at Jayson, who gave her an encouraging smile, and looked back at Martin. “I had something to eat and a good night’s sleep.”

He nodded, looking pleased. “Good. You may go to your place now.”

She hurried to the space between Number 43 and Number 47. They began as they had the day before, but there were no tricky instructions. After the initial warm-ups, they moved the barres to the back of the stage to prepare for the floor work. They lined up and performed the cross-stage work, then returned to the center. Sabrina felt pretty confident.

“One line at a time, so there’s plenty of room. Sixteen fouetté turns.”

The second row stepped to the back of the stage and watched. The music started and the first ten dancers began the difficult turns, moving their feet from the back of their knee to the front of the knee as they turned before straightening their leg to the side to prepare for the next turn. They all did well.

Of course they did. They’re probably all principals and soloists, stupid.

“Thank you. Second row.”

Sabrina’s row moved forward and spread out. The music started and they began. One. Two. Three. Four. Her spotting was going well... She wasn’t moving out of place... Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Doing great, Sabrina. Nine. T—

An unexpected explosion of pain erupted in Sabrina’s ribs and she fell to her knees, clutching her left side.

She looked up to see Number 43 glaring down at her. Did I move out of position? She thought she had stayed in place pretty well.

Jayson skidded toward her on his knees, stopping beside her, as Martin knelt on the other side of her and looked around. “Take ten, everyone.”

Tears welled up in her eyes from the pain. Pointe shoes hurt.

“I must have moved farther than I realized,” Sabrina said softly, looking up at Martin. She grimaced at a throb of pain. Number 43 stood over her with her hands on her hips, frowning. “I’m sorry I got in your way.” The girl just stomped away.

Jayson growled.

“Easy, Jayson. I have eyes,” Martin said calmly. “Take her into the back and get her some ice.”

“No, I’m okay,” Sabrina protested. “Just give me a few minutes and I can continue.” She slowly sat up and took a deep breath, trying not to groan.

“Sabrina, you’ve had a fine audition. I don’t want you hurting yourself further by aggravating it.”

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