Chapter Twenty-One
Lexi
Rehearsals for The Nutcracker have been going very well. Every single dancer has been putting his or her all into it, and the results are stu-freakin-pendous.
But there’s always room to improve, which is why Gael and I decide to stay after class on Tuesday to work on our dance numbers. Brock is here as well, and instead of going home, he offers to join us and be our cheerleader.
After we chug down cups of water, we make our way into the empty Studio C, and Gael and I pick up from where we left off during the class. Gael’s movements are powerful but graceful and he lifts me so effortlessly, like I’m made of cotton candy. I love when I’m high in the air, even though it’s only for a few seconds. Feels like I’m soaring in the sky.
“Beautiful form,” Gael encourages as he lowers me and does the next move.
“Thanks. Your form is perfect, too.”
“You both are doing amazing!” Brock cheers. “Go Clara and The Nutcracker.”
Gael and I chuckle as we continue the number. When I’m on point, Brock cheers again, telling me how incredible I am. I silently laugh to myself because he told me that he doesn’t even know if I’m doing the dance right. But I’m thankful he’s here to cheer Gael and me on. It definitely boosts my confidence.
“Again,” I tell Gael once we finish the number. “I want it to be perfect.”
“Your wish is my command,” he says as he rests his hands on my waist. He and I are totally on the same wavelength as we continue with the rehearsal, and I feel like I truly am Clara and he’s The Nutcracker. The world always disappears when I dance and am in my element, but I feel it so much more now.
When we’re done, Brock jumps to his feet and claps. “I might not know much about ballet, but that was the best you’ve ever been! Good job, guys.”
“Thanks,” Gael and I say as we fling our arms around each other.
“I’ll get you drinks,” Brock offers before rushing out to another studio. There isn’t a water cooler here.
“It’s so great to have Brock here with us again,” Gael says as he wipes some sweat off his brow. “This might sound lame, but it’s like…there’s more light in our life.”
“It’s not lame,” I assure him. “I totally get what you mean. It felt like darkness descended on us after the accident, and it just got darker after Brock left, and the years after that.”
Gael grins as he wraps an arm around me. “This is why you’re our queen. Because you always get it.”
“The Water Boy has returned,” Brock announces as he walks in with two cups of water.
“Water Boy?” Gael says with a laugh as he takes a cup and downs it. “Thanks, man. I really needed this.”
“That’s why I’m the perfect water boy,” Brock says. “Because I know when you need a drink even before you do. Here ya go, Lexi. My water boy sense tells me you’re really, really thirsty.”
I also laugh as I take the second cup. “Thanks, you’re right. I’m extremely thirsty.”
“Now go get me a refill,” Gael jokes.
“I would if you really were thirsty,” Brock admits.
“This guy is an angel.” Gael throws an arm around him and yanks him close. “How did we survive the last four years without you?”
“I’m sorry—”
“No, don’t apologize. It’s in the past.”
I nod. “Exactly. Everything is all forgiven.”
“You bet.”
“Okay, thanks,” Brock says. “I’ll try not to feel so guilty anymore. I guess I have a long way to go. Are you guys done rehearsing?”
“Want to take it from the top again?” I ask Gael.
He shakes his head. “As much as I love dancing with you, I need to get home.”
“Okay. I’ll rehearse myself.”
“That’s cool.” Gael heads to his backpack and sweeps it off the floor. “Just don’t overdo it.”
We wish him goodbye. Brock settles back in his seat and I play the music for my dance number. Like before, I feel this in my bones one thousand percent. Like I’ve literally transformed into Clara. I hope this carries to the real performance as well.
After I’ve been dancing for twenty minutes, Brock gets up and tries doing his own ballet moves. But since he’s never had lessons before, he kind of looks like an unbalanced duck.
I burst out laughing when he jumps in the air with his arms and legs outstretched, trying to mimic one of The Nutcracker’s steps. But he almost falls flat on his butt.
“This is definitely much harder than it looks,” he says with a sheepish laugh.
I move behind him and position his arms the right way. “Try it now.”
When he leaps in the air this time, he’s not as uncoordinated as he was before. But is he graceful? Not at all. It’s still pretty hilarious.
I laugh so hard and clutch the side of my stomach because it hurts. But Brock acts oblivious to my laughs and continues to make up his dance moves, as though he’s choreographing his own dance sequence.
When he’s done, he bows and says, “Now that was a one-hundred-point performance.”
“Let’s see you do it again.”
“Uh…” He does random moves again, each and every one of them different from the ones before. “See? Nothing to it.”
“I said you were supposed to perform exactly the same dance moves.”
“I dance to my own beat.”
I move closer to him and copy his moves, trying to put a ballet spin on it. Brock might not be the best dancer on the planet, but he definitely knows how to freestyle. He and I dance side by side, with me copying some of his moves and also doing some of my own.
Suddenly, warm and gentle hands close around my waist and lift me in the air. My body acting on its own, my back arches and my arms and legs spread outward. I feel as graceful as a gazelle as he lifts me a little higher and takes a few steps to the right. Then he lowers me and spins me around a few times, his hands as light as a feather on my waist.
Before I have a chance to realize what’s going on, Brock hoists me into his arms so effortlessly, as though he’s been doing this for years. My lungs expand and contract heavily as I gaze into his face and his chest moves exactly the same.
“You’re so strong,” I blurt.
He chuckles softly. “Thanks.”
He spins us around, but he must have overestimated my weight because I’m airborne for a few seconds before I’m back on the ground. And he must have miscalculated the distance between us because my body is now pressed against his.
I gaze into his eyes again, getting sucked further and further inside, with no way to escape. Every part of me is on fire and I’m having trouble breathing normally.
He stares back into my eyes, his chest still heaving.
“You’re so strong.”
He laughs again. “You already said that.”
“I did? I mean, yeah, I did. Ha…that’s funny.” My blood surges throughout my body, making me feel a little dizzy. “You have more moves than I thought. It was…well, kind of romantic.”
His eyes widen.
“In like a romance novel kind of way. Not that I read a lot of romance novels, but I’ve seen movies.”
“Well, I am so dashing, aren’t I?” he jokes.
You certainly are.
I laugh lamely and step away from him.
“Sorry for bothering you,” he says. “I just wanted to see if I can dance ballet. Clearly, I can’t.”
“You know you need many years of practice under your belt?”
“That’s true. There are no shortcuts in life, unfortunately.”
“Yeah, too bad. Because I would definitely take a shortcut and be done with my math test.”
He chuckles. “I hear you. Do you need help studying? I’m decent in math.”
“I know. You were always popping out As in middle school math. Nate was so frustrated because he was the supposed math whiz of the group.”
“I remember. But he got over it very fast and didn’t care about math anymore.”
“Yep. Funny what you remember, huh?”
“Yeah. I’ll go back to my spot and stop bothering you so you can continue practicing.”
“That’s okay. Gael is right—I shouldn’t overwork myself.”
“The Water Boy has you covered because he knows you’re very, very thirsty. He, is, too.”
He disappears out the door and returns a short while later with two cups of water. We clink our cups and gulp down our water, saying, “Ahhh,” at the same time.
“Water never tasted better,” I say. “Thanks, Water Boy.”
“No problem, Thirsty Girl.”
I wrinkle my nose at him.
“Yeah, that sounds lame. Parched Girl?”
“You make me sound like a desert.”
“Graceful Dancer?” he suggests.
“So generic.”
“Majestic Dancer?”
“Hmm…”
“No veto? Majestic Dancer it is.”
I throw my hands up. “Okay, fine. But I’m also an amazing future marine biologist.”
“Majestic Dancing Future Marine Biologist,” he says. “Now that’s a mouthful. Dancing Marine Biologist? I still think Majestic Dancer is the best.”
“All right,” I concede. “We’ll go with that, Water Boy.”
He cringes, then laughs.
I rehearse one more dance number before calling it a night. Then Brock and I leave the dance studio and go home.