Chapter 9 Action
Action
Alone in my studio, I turn the music up.
I turn it up loud. The bass vibrates through the speakers.
The music moves into me. My programmed body sways to its rhythm.
I bourrée, fouetté, jeté, and pique around the studio, mixing routines and having fun.
It becomes a free, wild workout of my body and ballet skills, and I have “Riptide” to thank for it.
Love this song.
The studio door swings open, and I catch a glimpse of someone in the mirror. I pivot to a halt, halfway through a fouetté, to see my favourite person standing with his hands stuffed in his pockets, a wide grin on his lips.
"Konnor!" I yell out and rush towards him.
He steps backwards when our bodies collide, but then his arms go around me and lift me up as I kick with excitement. He's here. He's here, and he's okay. The last time I saw him, he was a drunken, grieving mess with intense girl troubles like I had never seen before.
He lowers me onto the mats and turns to the pretty blonde girl blushing by his side. He steers me with his arm towards her and introduces her. "This is Blesk."
Blesk fidgets with her ponytail and glances at the floor and then nervously at Konnor. She's stunning and my brother is gazing at her with infatuation. This must be the girl. He's a bit tightly strung as if her unease has become his.
"Hi, welcome to the Thunder Dome," I say, breaking the awkward moment.
Her face relaxes and then Konnor relaxes, and it's like a magnetic effect. I stare at my brother and take him all in. Even though he's freshly shaven and still so beautiful, his eyes look tired.
I shake my shoulders and stretch my hands out for him to take. "Come dance with your sister."
He digs his heels in. “Pipsqueak, no.”
I do a silly dance. "Come on, come on."
Konnor groans at Blesk. “See what I have to deal with.”
“Come on, you’re a beautiful dancer."
He shakes his head adamantly. “No, Cass.”
“You owe me for missing my birthday!”
Konnor sighs, tilting his head back in defeat and rolling his eyes. “Thank God, Jax isn’t here.” Jax is one of Konnor's best friends and they play rugby together. They are all manly and butch about it too. But Jax is fun, and I have no doubt he'd dance with me if he were here right now.
Konnor joins me in the centre of the studio, and we formalise our stance. I kick his foot into position. Sticking our noses in the air, we giggle. My feet take the first step, but I pretend to let him lead.
We waltz together just like we used to do when we were children. I stare up at my big brother and he grins down at me. I love it when he's home.
It's a special occasion when he bothers to make the long drive from his campus accommodation to stay with us. And even more so because he has brought his best friend Jax and Blesk's friend Elise—who is so my spirit animal, it's not even funny.
Later that evening, as we all sit around the dinner table, laughter fills our home. Elise is just as weird as me. Blesk is sweet. She's a little shy, but clearly adores my brother.
After dinner, Blesk places a box full of cupcakes on the table. My face lights up. But everyone else is too full. Well, except Jaxon. I mock-frown at him over the chocolate fondant.
We share, like, twenty cupcakes in a cupcake battle that ends with me puking in my bathroom.
All the while, Blesk and Konnor drink a little too much.
The night quickly becomes eventful when Konnor and my friend, Faith, get into an argument.
I end up having to kick her out. Konnor often gets into arguments with people. ..
At least I won the eat-off.
Good times.
The following morning, I'm setting the timer, which is strapped to my bicep, all ready for a morning run, when I see Konnor, Blesk, and my dad sitting on the patio. As I approach, I hear Blesk ask, “How did you make the tap water green?”
A chuckle vibrates in my chest because the time Blesk is obviously asking about is the day my brother decided to dye everything green.
He often 'acted out,' a polite way to describe his past behaviour.
My brother's story is long and full of trauma.
He was kidnapped when he was four years old.
And if that wasn't bad enough, when the police found him years later, his mother had already passed away and his father hadn't wanted him back.
We have no idea why. It sickens me to think about a father not wanting his son.
We don't talk about this though. It's been swept under the rug.
But his broken little soul couldn’t be healed by hiding the injustice. So he'd misbehaved. He'd drank too much... drinks too much.
Sometimes I wonder if he had tried to push us away as a test of our commitment. Would we still love him after it all? We did. We do. We won't abandon him like his father did.
“Well, Duchess," Konnor begins, making me smile. I've come to learn that that's his pet name for Blesk—too cute.
"I’m so glad you asked," he says. "I put green jelly crystals in the faucet under the washer.”
Bouncing over to them, I plonk down on my dad's lap and kiss him on the cheek. “I remember that!” Dad's hazel eyes brighten as he gives me a bear hug. “What’s up, Daddy-o?”
Konnor leans over and lightly pinches my stomach. “You’re too old to sit on Dad’s lap, Cassidy."
“Daaaaad, Konnor’s hitting me.”
Dad squeezes me tighter. “Now now, Konnor, let me keep my little girl for a while longer. God knows I lost Flicker as soon as she came out of the womb.” My dad doesn't have any favourite children, but the two of us have a special bond.
We spent a lot of time together because I was more of a homebody than either of my siblings.
We liked watching quiz shows and playing board games together while Konnor and Flick preferred to socialise with their friends.
Konnor lets out a big sigh and smirks at me. “Such a bloody princess." He leans back and looks at Dad. "Where is Flick? Cassidy just said she was away for the weekend.”
Dad peers up at me. “Isn’t she with her new lady love?"
I stare down at the spread on the patio table, grinning at the sight of Konnor's signature waffles. He cooked Blesk breakfast. He must be pulling out all the moves for this girl.
I pick up the fork and shovel a piece of waffle into my mouth, chewing and answering at the same time. “Yeah, but I don’t know where. Probably in Connolly somewhere.”
Konnor's brows furrow. “Who? Why Connolly? Who’s she seeing?”
My big brother has always had an apprehension toward The Butcher Boys. They have a bad reputation. I take another piece of waffle so I don't have to elaborate. “You don’t wanna know.”
Konnor glares at me and it's a hostile look I very rarely see directed at me. “Who, Cassidy?”
Salty waffle chunks muffle my words. “Stacey Grange.”
"I know Stacey." Blesk smiles sweetly at Konnor. "She was friends with Erik for a while. She went to Connolly High." I don't know who Erik is, but that doesn't seem to impress Konnor at all.
He stiffens. "Great. So she’s been hanging out with that crowd."
Dad feigns laughter and I know he's trying to lighten the mood. Konnor is overprotective and often irrational. It's all to do with the way he handles conflict. He struggles sometimes to channel his emotions.
"Don’t worry, Konnor," Dad says. "The boys know to behave here. They’ve grown up a lot since you left to study."
Blesk glances between us as she fidgets with her clothes. "Are you talking about The Butcher Boys?"
I tilt my head at Blesk. "You know them?”
Blesk and Konnor share a significant look before she says, "Not really. But doesn’t everyone in the District know of The Butcher Boys?"
They sure do.
Konnor grumbles. "Yeah, alright. I’ll have a chat with Flick when I see her next, but you stay clear of them. Please, Cassidy. They are just bad news."
I glance up at the sky and then back at Konnor, internally shaking the negativity from this conversation out of my mind. "Yes, big brother."
They continue to talk as I wander off. Jogging out the front door, I head towards the track that circles our property.
Flick doesn't understand the exercise thing.
Konnor and I have been running since we were children, and when I don't run in the mornings, I dance or do Pilates.
Exercise has always been a part of my morning ritual.
After a light run, I take a shower in the studio and get ready to practise Sugar Plum's choreography. To really get in the mood, I put on some music by Tchaikovsky. I pull on my favourite white leotard and my pink knee-high legwarmers.
It's a warm day, but I always wear legwarmers. They're essential for minimising the chance of future injuries. My torn ligament last year reminded me of that and I've never forgotten them since.
Barefoot, I go to warm up at the barre. My eyes are focused on my form in the mirror when the door to my studio swings open to the stopper.
Max's tall, broad form appears as a reflection.
He has something in his fist, but he's staring at me in the mirror, his eyes caressing every inch of my exposed body.
My lips part to allow for bigger breaths.
The door bounces off the stopper and swings shut, leaving me alone and secluded with his piercing gaze.
As I turn to acknowledge him, he turns from my reflection to meet my eyes.
"What's this?" He raises the newspaper rolled up in his grip.
"You tell me," I say with a nervous chuckle, but he just stares at me. "Okay... I got a very special role and they printed an article about me." My heart skips in time with each of his steps toward me. I lower my leg from the barre and pivot towards him just as he stops an arm's length away.
He smirks. "Golden Girl?"
The corners of my cheeks pinch as I try not to smile. "Apparently."
"Congratulations."