Chaos Choreography
Page 93
That was enough to bring me the rest of the way from disoriented grogginess into full wakefulness. “Lyra, please, stop shouting. What time is it?”
“It’s good that we’re both talking about time, since you don’t seem to have any for me these days,” she snapped. “I knew things would be different with your boyfriend and sister hanging around—and don’t think I haven’t been tempted to report them both to Adrian, with the way you’ve been letting yourself get distracted—but I didn’t expect you to go and replace me with a newer model. What’s Malena got that I don’t have, huh?”
Scales and the ability to walk on walls. I blinked. “Are you jealous?”
“Uh, yeah, I am, bitch,” she said, without unfolding her arms. “You’re supposed to be my best friend. Do you know how few really good friends I have? I’m always dancing, or rehearsing, or auditioning. I don’t have time to make friends. I came back to this show partially because it would mean seeing you again, and here you are constantly running off with other people.” Her face fell. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No! Lyra, honey, no!” I jumped out of the bed and hurried to put my arms around her. “I’ve just been . . . it’s all hard on me. I’d stopped dancing.”
Her eyes went wide. “What?”
There it was: the words were out. I took a deep breath, and repeated, “I’d stopped dancing. When I couldn’t get work after the show, I decided to do something else with my life. I hadn’t danced in months when Adrian contacted me.”
“But . . .”
“I came back because I still love it, but I’ll be honest, I feel like an alcoholic who took a job at a bar. This isn’t my world anymore. Unless I win, I can’t let it be my world anymore. I’m trying not to fall so much in love that I can’t walk away when it’s all over.” Every word I said was true, and I hadn’t been expecting to say any of them.
“Oh, Val,” she said again. “I didn’t know.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t tell you.”
“How about this Sunday, we have a girls’ day, just you and me? We can get pedicures and talk about how much our legs ache.”
“I’d like that,” I said. “Thanks. What time is it?”
“Oh!” Lyra winced. “I was so surprised, I just forgot! You slept through the alarm, the cars are leaving for the theater in ten minutes. I came to wake you up.”
“What?!” I let her go, grabbing my makeup kit as I launched myself for the bedroom door. There was no one between me and the bathroom, and I was able to lock myself inside, beginning the quick and dirty process of putting my Valerie-face on.
Ten minutes later, I was standing on the sidewalk with the rest of my season, a fresh wig pinned to my head and just enough makeup on that I wouldn’t look dead when the cameras came into the rehearsal room. Pax glanced at me, eyebrows raising as he took in my black yoga pants and loose gray tank top. They were audition clothes, “don’t stand out too much” clothes, not “go to the rehearsal and keep the camera locked on you the whole time” clothes.
“You okay?” he asked. The real question—“How much sleep did you get?”—went unasked, but it hung between us, fat and ripe and poisonous.
“I’m good,” I said, mustering a smile. “I was just more stressed out about last night’s competition than I expected, and I guess I slept doubly hard because of it. I’m totally fine.”
“You never oversleep,” said Anders, pushing himself into the conversation without a trace of shame. “Remember how you used to wake me up by crouching at the foot of my bed like some sort of freaky gargoyle? You never missed a morning.”
“Everybody has a bad day,” I said.
Anders slipped his arm through mine, pulling me close. It was a fraternal gesture; there was nothing romantic or inappropriate about it. It still felt unearned. “Like last night?” he asked, voice going sharp and low.
“Like last night,” I agreed. I was having trouble finding my inner Valerie today, and without her, I was an interloper in this place. All around me were dancers laughing, gossiping, totally ready for the cars to come and sweep them off to the waiting theater. Even Jessica was smiling as she chatted with Lo. It was like everyone else had fallen into some weird parallel dimension where people weren’t dying and everything wasn’t awful.
No, wait. I was the one in the weird parallel dimension. I was the one in the dimension where I had no choice but to know how terrible things really were.
“It’s good that we’re both talking about time, since you don’t seem to have any for me these days,” she snapped. “I knew things would be different with your boyfriend and sister hanging around—and don’t think I haven’t been tempted to report them both to Adrian, with the way you’ve been letting yourself get distracted—but I didn’t expect you to go and replace me with a newer model. What’s Malena got that I don’t have, huh?”
Scales and the ability to walk on walls. I blinked. “Are you jealous?”
“Uh, yeah, I am, bitch,” she said, without unfolding her arms. “You’re supposed to be my best friend. Do you know how few really good friends I have? I’m always dancing, or rehearsing, or auditioning. I don’t have time to make friends. I came back to this show partially because it would mean seeing you again, and here you are constantly running off with other people.” Her face fell. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No! Lyra, honey, no!” I jumped out of the bed and hurried to put my arms around her. “I’ve just been . . . it’s all hard on me. I’d stopped dancing.”
Her eyes went wide. “What?”
There it was: the words were out. I took a deep breath, and repeated, “I’d stopped dancing. When I couldn’t get work after the show, I decided to do something else with my life. I hadn’t danced in months when Adrian contacted me.”
“But . . .”
“I came back because I still love it, but I’ll be honest, I feel like an alcoholic who took a job at a bar. This isn’t my world anymore. Unless I win, I can’t let it be my world anymore. I’m trying not to fall so much in love that I can’t walk away when it’s all over.” Every word I said was true, and I hadn’t been expecting to say any of them.
“Oh, Val,” she said again. “I didn’t know.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t tell you.”
“How about this Sunday, we have a girls’ day, just you and me? We can get pedicures and talk about how much our legs ache.”
“I’d like that,” I said. “Thanks. What time is it?”
“Oh!” Lyra winced. “I was so surprised, I just forgot! You slept through the alarm, the cars are leaving for the theater in ten minutes. I came to wake you up.”
“What?!” I let her go, grabbing my makeup kit as I launched myself for the bedroom door. There was no one between me and the bathroom, and I was able to lock myself inside, beginning the quick and dirty process of putting my Valerie-face on.
Ten minutes later, I was standing on the sidewalk with the rest of my season, a fresh wig pinned to my head and just enough makeup on that I wouldn’t look dead when the cameras came into the rehearsal room. Pax glanced at me, eyebrows raising as he took in my black yoga pants and loose gray tank top. They were audition clothes, “don’t stand out too much” clothes, not “go to the rehearsal and keep the camera locked on you the whole time” clothes.
“You okay?” he asked. The real question—“How much sleep did you get?”—went unasked, but it hung between us, fat and ripe and poisonous.
“I’m good,” I said, mustering a smile. “I was just more stressed out about last night’s competition than I expected, and I guess I slept doubly hard because of it. I’m totally fine.”
“You never oversleep,” said Anders, pushing himself into the conversation without a trace of shame. “Remember how you used to wake me up by crouching at the foot of my bed like some sort of freaky gargoyle? You never missed a morning.”
“Everybody has a bad day,” I said.
Anders slipped his arm through mine, pulling me close. It was a fraternal gesture; there was nothing romantic or inappropriate about it. It still felt unearned. “Like last night?” he asked, voice going sharp and low.
“Like last night,” I agreed. I was having trouble finding my inner Valerie today, and without her, I was an interloper in this place. All around me were dancers laughing, gossiping, totally ready for the cars to come and sweep them off to the waiting theater. Even Jessica was smiling as she chatted with Lo. It was like everyone else had fallen into some weird parallel dimension where people weren’t dying and everything wasn’t awful.
No, wait. I was the one in the weird parallel dimension. I was the one in the dimension where I had no choice but to know how terrible things really were.
