Page 96 of Tendu: Dancing in the Castle

Despite the fact it was clearly unwise and against current thinking, I went along with it, mainly to show her she couldn’t get to me. Suddenly her class was all en pointe too, for me anyway.

“In pain, Treadwell?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She shared a waffling conversation with Paul about the wonders of negative stimuli. My on-screen results were apparently ‘impressive beyond anything seen before.’

“The Nazis studied the autistic mind, of course,” said Michelle.

Paul nodded. “They sent the less able to the gas chambers.”

“They did, didn’t they?” said Michelle with a wide smile in my direction.

“Refuse to do it anymore, Malph,” advised a horrified Will. “They’re a pair of fascist gits.”

Maybe he was right. Maybe I should stop. But what would that mean for my place here? My head felt muddled. It was difficult to think clearly with the excruciating soreness of my toes.

Will’s hands were soothing on my feet later, the cake was sweet, and the week continued painfully on.

I mentioned the situation to Aleks the following night, feet throbbing. He saw it as good that I was being upheld over the others, and pushed, but he wasn’t in my bed to discuss pointe work. And really, neither was I.

Thursday was difficult. I avoided looking at my feet and worked on ignoring the pain. At lunch I begged a bucket of ice from Holly and sat with her in the kitchen, feet pleasantly numbed before the wobbly disaster of pas de deux. Not even attempting contemporary, I stumbled up the stairs, hot and dizzy, regretting not having taken the elevator.

My fuzzy mind listed essential tasks.

1) Lock door against Colin’s possible arrival which had been hinted at in class.

2) Collapse on bed.

That was as far as I got. Collapsing was good. Sleep was better.

“Time to get up, Phi! Quite a while ago, actually. Come on, open up; bashing down doors is really not my thing.”

The room moved slowly to the right. I realised I was very cold. Yesterday’s leotard stuck to my skin, and my feet didn’t feel like my feet. They were swollen up in pointe shoes that I had obviously slept in.

“Phi? You in there?”

“Yeah. Gimme minute, Justin.”

What to do first? Shoes or door? Door. He might help with shoes. I made it there and laughed. Unlocking was difficult as my fingers were slimy and weak.

“Oh my, look at you,” said Justin. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m lilting to the side. Or is it tilting?” I’d bounced off the wall on my way across the room. “Help me get my shoes off.” I slithered down against the door post and sat on the floor.

“You’re roasting,” he said, feeling my forehead.

Shoes undone and gingerly removed, much dried blood was evident, and other stickier stuff.

“Well, there it is,” said Justin. “Those psychopaths have ridden you raw. The school doctor is here to see the little ones. They came pre-injured for the research. It’s quite creepy really. But you should go down there too.”

Getting there would be a daunting task.

“The doc’s a sexy bit, Phi. You’ll like him. Tall, possibly ripped under the shirt, a caring look, bet he’s got a bedside manner to die for… But you’re not walking, are you? Stronger arms than mine are needed. Stay there.”

He’d gone to get Aleks. Everything would be all right now.

It wasn’t Aleks that came back up the stairs with Justin, but Will, who folded back the tights from my feet and revealed yukkiness I didn’t want to see. ‘Fuck’ was said a lot, and ‘bastards’ which I found exceptionally amusing.

---