Page 3 of A Dark Duet

Giselle

The next day I make it to all my classes and I’m nervous about my contemporary piece I have been working on.

I talk to the girls I have choreographed the piece with, and they are just as excited as I am. We help each other and I thank my lucky stars my parents always taught me to get along. I never had a social life except for Brie and some friends she would have over when my parents said it was okay. I miss her so much, but we still keep in touch at least once a week. The last time we spoke was last week, and she said she was living in Sioux Falls, and we should catch up soon. Her mom, Victoria, is still living in the trailer back home, up to no good. I’m happy she made it out on her own with no support from her mom. She is a strong girl, and I will always be there if she needs me.

“Are you ready, Giselle?” one girl asks. Her name is Suzy. She is one of the better dancers that can keep up with my routines.

“Yeah. I mean, we have gone over it so many times in the past month, I just hope it’s good enough,” I tell her.

It’s a contemporary piece and I hope it wows my instructors. I have taken a lot of time to choreograph the routine and decided to choose the orchestral version of “Young and Beautiful,”by Lana Del Rey. We take center stage after giving them my song to play. The four of us take our place. I am at the center, looking at the five judges, while Dean, a friend I have made here at Juilliard, is behind the tripod with his camera. He wants to be a film editor and conductor. I have agreed to let him record my pieces. It will allow me to see where I need to make some adjustments and perfect my movements.

“Are you ready, Miss Monroe?” the male judge asks impatiently.

“Yes, sir,” I say.

“Well, let’s get started. Since you have taken part in the ballet company, all they will require you to complete is the contemporary dance piece choreographed by yourself to show us in your final year how you have improved from a preprofessional standpoint. It will show us that you possess the required skill and talent you’ve led us to believe you are capable of. It is your senior piece,” he says.

“Yes, I am aware,” I say, my voice echoing in the theater room with tiny beads of sweat running down my back, knowing what is on the line.

It’s what we all have worked for, all of us in my senior class. We know helping each other succeed is looked upon for selection to the best dance companies.No sweat, I tell myself.

I look at the girls waiting for my cue and for the music to begin. I give the signal with my finger, and at once, the chorus of Lana fills the speakers of the giant theater room. Her soft ballad hitting my soul, we all move in sync on our toes, two of us one way, the other girls moving their legs in a split in the air before coming on our toes to the center, back in the start position.

I have chosen the four of us who can complete a fouetté on cue at the fourth position, and bam! We nail it. I keep my face concentrated while moving on to the next move as we tourner (to turn) and they give me space to complete my move on my own, known as the grande jete. It is the most difficult jump, and if you don’t stretch properly, you can get seriously injured.

Flexibility is the key to the move. The girls give me space, and I execute the jump and nail it. I am so excited, it was the ultimate move, and we get in the same position as we started. We all stop in unison and bow for the judges.

Dean suddenly screams, “Yes! Woo-hoo, that’s my girl.” I smile at his excitement. He pauses, and he realizes that his camera is still on. He clears his throat. “I am so sorry,” he says, packing his stuff up to get the heck out of the theater.

I watch him scurry as he will most likely get kicked out by the judges. I hope the performance was good enough. I pause, waiting for further instructions.

“Miss Monroe?” the judge, who I’m assuming is in charge of the end of the senior piece performances, says.

“Yes,” I respond. Aware I’m holding my breath, I let it out slowly, nervous as hell.

“That was exquisite, and we expected it from you. Perfection. I can safely say that, off the record, that was one of the best performances I have ever seen from a senior. You can very well run your own dance company someday, young lady.” Relieved, my heartbeat slows down.

“That is very kind of you to say, sir. Thank you, that means a lot.” He doesn’t say a word, his serious face in place.

I take my cue and leave with the other girls from the stage. I get out into the hallway, thanking them and hugging them tightly.

“Thank you! You guys are the best, and if I can help any one of you, please ask.” They all smile at me, telling me that they already have their group picked out.

“You are the best ballet dancer here at Juilliard, Giselle. Really. No bullshit. There is no way any of us could have nailed it, not even our instructor,” Suzy says, whispering.

My face flushes. “No way.”

“Yes way. Seriously, you are so talented. You should see your face when you dance. It has passion written all over it. It’s like you are one with the music,” she says.

My eyes fill with tears, feeling overjoyed at her compliment. I hug her suddenly.

“Shit. I’m so sorry,” I say. I got carried away and she stood there in shock.

“No worries, I wasn’t ready for a hug, is all.” I smile, embarrassed because I don’t really know her on a friendly level.

I thank them all and continue to the dorms. As I walk down the hallway, I spot Dean. He has sandy-blond hair, dimples on his cheeks, and blue eyes. He is handsome in a boyish sort of way. We became fast friends this year when he came up to me to ask if he could film me dancing. He said he wanted to be a film editor and requested to film some of the girls for our senior year. In return, we would get an edited recording of our dances that could help us out in the future. How could anyone refuse a free copy of their pieces?

“You were exceptional!” he says.

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