Page 104 of Tendu: Dancing in the Castle

“Out,” she said equally clearly, virtually spitting the last ‘t.’

Will came with me as I walked towards the door. “Who wants to stay here and look at someone with a face like a smacked arse, anyway?” he said to Michelle.

Weak with laughter, we hugged each other in the elevator, but sobered on entering the, mainly empty, great hall.

“D’you think we’ll be expelled?” I wondered.

“Do we care?”

Aleks was sitting with Paul at the staff table. It had been a huge mistake to look that way. A pain in my chest stabbed and squeezed, suggesting that the time had indeed come to be somewhere else.

The younger students arrived downstairs, and were keen to know why we were above ground so early, and open-mouthed when they heard.

Holly came over with tea and cake. I picked at the icing.

Our own classmates arrived in due course, with much shoulder patting and ruffling of Will’s hair. The two of us stared determinedly at each other, expecting retribution as Michelle came in, but she sat down by Aleks without a word.

Justin sighed, hand to chest. “Look at you two, all grown-up and insulting teachers. Phi, hearing you swear like that was a proud moment for me. If they expel you, I’m coming too. I did consider joining in and telling her the eighties wanted its suit back – does the woman own any other clothes? – but the pair of you were a hard act to follow.”

“You’ve got to think,” said Ruaridh. “What’s to keep us here now? Morning ballet’s not worth doing. Michelle’s thing is of no benefit to any of us. The other classes are okay, but nothing special. Zolotov was the only spectacular thing this place had going for it, and now that’s over? We could be down south, back among it all. Just saying.”

The longest speech I’d ever heard Ruaridh give was followed by a contemplative silence. Bekah broke it. “But I don’t want you to leave,” she cried and flung her arms round Justin in a way that made me wonder if she fully understood that he was gay.

Colin was on his best behaviour for afternoon pas de deux, which was just as well as the pointe work really hurt. Aleks observed the latter part of the lesson. I did my best not to look at him. Mr. Timms kept me behind at the end to go over what I’d missed. He made me walk through the choreography with Aleks, then asked us to practice it another couple of times on our own, and left.

I tried to stay silent once we were alone. Aleks did not.

“Malphia, I did not know I was all…” His hand circled his face and he grimaced. “Michelle, she is excited to be progressing. Last night a big section of the work is finished, and she hug and kiss me. In friendly way only, you understand. Earlier she is spraying her perfume, and I was near, caught in the cloud of it. This is all.” His expression was open and honest, hopeful of reconciliation.

“Oh,” I said, feeling a bit blank, response delayed.

“So, is going better down here?” he asked, as if everything were fine again.

“No, Aleks. It’s dreadful.” Reaction had arrived and it was angry. “Colin’s useless and sleazy. Michelle is deliberately cruel. We’re isolated here, away from everything. The whole class wants to leave the castle now.”

“You? You are wanting to leave?”

“Staying here is no longer making me a better dancer.” The words were made small and petulant by the big studio, as if my career was all that mattered, and that wasn’t right, but none of what was happening was right.

“So,” he said. And then again, more loudly: “So.”

“That’s about how much you care, isn’t it? You’re all happy and friendly up there in lipstick land. The rest of us barely exist for you now.”

“You think you have me all worked out. But you have no idea.” He placed his fist over his heart.

“Tell me then,” I demanded.

The corners of his lips twitched downwards for a second before he kissed me hard on the mouth, an action that I reciprocated with biting immediacy. The late-in-the-day unshaven-ness of him made me tremble. I wanted to feel his rough face and mouth against other places, sensitive places. I shoved him back, shocked by the way I’d responded to him in the middle of an argument.

“Tell me,” I said again, trying to ignore the sexual nature of my anger. It wasn’t red this time; it was purple and sparked through with silver danger.

“I see you,” he said.

“Oh, this again. Great. What exactly is it you see this time, Aleks?”

“Look,” he said, turning me to face the mirror.

I shivered at his touch.

---