Page 39 of Jessica, Not Her Real Name
She lifted one arm above her head, holding the other out, crossing her feet. “Fourth position.”
Daniel nodded at the barre. “Can you put your leg up on that thing?”
She did.
His eyes scrolled down her body. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I think that’s my favorite position.”
She took her leg down and crossed her arms. She tried to adopt a prim expression, but her cheeks were on fire. “Daniel, I’m trying to teach you ballet fundamentals here.”
He grinned and held up his hands. “I am one hundred percent focused.”
Oh, he was focused, alright. On certain parts of her anatomy in this leotard.
She fanned herself and went to take a sip of water. It was hot in the studio. The cantilever doors were closed because the builders were still making a racket outside. But that wasn’t the only reason she was sweating before she’d even begun any routines. Having Daniel lounging over there, with his spread legs and damp singlet and slow smile, was like having the thermostat turned up to the max.
She kept her eyes off him and swept her gaze over the pool area and the path that led around the house. Checking the coast was clear. Her mom had wedding-related appointments in the city and wasn’t due back for another hour. But occasionally one of the other girls from the Joffrey would show up at her studio to rehearse with her in the afternoons.
She looked back at Daniel, feeling a stab of guilt that she was so worried about anyone finding out about him. She reminded herself that they’d both agreed to keep this thing a secret. And while she didn’t know the reasons why he wanted to shield her from everyone in his life except for his brother, she knew why she was reluctant to introduce him to her family and friends. And it wasn’t because she was ashamed of him. Far from it.
It was because she was afraid of discovering that she was ashamed of them.
She sat down on the floor and took off her leg warmers and ballet slippers and started prepping her feet for pointe shoes. She applied Second Skin, then tape and gauze. Laced them up tightly, then got back to her feet and tested the flexibility in her insteps. She bent her knees, bearing down on her ankles. Feeling for pain, feeling for tenderness.
Then she did a bourrée, a little wandering movement on the tips of her toes, like she was shimmering over the floor.
Daniel had been watching her silently the whole time. “What’s thisGisellething about, then?”
She’d told him she was going to perform thePeasant Pas de Deuxfrom the famous ballet. She went over to the iPod that was connected to the sound system and queued up Adolphe Adam. “It’s about a beautiful peasant girl who falls in love with this rich nobleman called Count Albrecht. But he’s already engaged to this other woman and doesn’t tell her. When she finds out about his betrayal, she’s so devastated she dances until her heart gives out.” She took a sip of water. “In some versions, she stabs herself. Then her body is buried in the woods.”
Daniel snorted. “Wouldn’t it be better if she stabbed Count Asshole and buriedhisbody in the woods?”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “That wouldn’t be very romantic, would it?”
“Be a hell of a lot smarter.”
She walked back to the center of the floor. “Well, maybe one day you can choreograph your version and see how popular it is. You can get Quentin Tarantino to direct it.”
He just shrugged, his look saying he might just do that.
“Anyway, that’s not the end,” she said. “After she dies, Giselle comes back as a ghost. And there are a bunch of other spirits living in the forest with her called the Wilis. They’re the ghosts of all the women who have been betrayed by men. And they want to kill Albrecht by making him dance to his death. But Giselle intervenes and saves him. She forgives him, and lets him go, and then goes peacefully back to her grave.”
Daniel, far from being enthralled by the story, appeared unimpressed. “That’s it?”
She nodded.
“Tell me she at least gets to kick him in the balls at some point.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I have a feeling ballet’s not for you.”
He smiled, spreading both arms across the backrest of the sofa. “Hey. I’m enjoying it so far.”
She had to admit he had a point about the storyline.Gisellewasn’t a feminist masterpiece. She knew it was meant to be about the redemptive power of forgiveness, but she’d always hated how the Wilis were portrayed. Instead of showing them as a sisterhood of tragic women fed up with being treated poorly by men, the ballet presented them as creepy, man-hating harpies with axes to grind.
Maybe one day she would choreograph her own version, too. One where the Wilis were the heroines of the story. But she suspected it wouldn’t be any more popular than Daniel’s version. Classical ballet isn’t exactly known as a progressive art form.
She picked up the remote and hit play, feeling strangely calm. She usually felt riddled with nerves before any performance. Stage fright had crippled her for most of her life; it had gotten so bad in her teens that her mom had sent her to a psychiatrist who specialized in performance anxiety. Her diagnosis: Julia was far too fixated on perfection, to the point it was interfering with her mental health.
Julia’s response had been,no shit, Sherlock.
