Chapter 2 #2
Everyone else is picking it up easily, of course.
I, meanwhile, ran away from my spot when I was too near to exposing my awful dance skills to Oisín, which I’m sure would be enough to turn him off me for life.
I don’t think there’s any further into the corner I can go now before I become part of the walls themselves.
Olly Redmond, who’s able to look over the heads around him, keeps glancing over and watching me, which heightens my embarrassment a thousand per cent. Someone as experienced as him must think I’m a complete idiot for not being able to get the hang of it.
‘Everyone feeling comfortable with the steps?’ Elaine 31calls out, her eyes lingering on me, probably baffled as to how someone who sometimes struggles to walk down a corridor in a straight line has found his way into her ensemble.
I look down at my feet so I don’t have to answer her, but when I peek up she’s weaved her way to Olly, whispering something as she looks between him and me. What’s going on?
He looks at me now, his jaw tight, and I drop my eyes again so I don’t meet his gaze. It’s only a matter of seconds though before Elaine’s feet walk back to the front and a pair of huge trainers step into my peripheral vision.
‘Hey,’ says the Yorkshire voice of Olly. ‘Elaine was wondering if I could give you a few pointers? Guessing you’re more of a singer-actor and dancing’s pretty new?’
I have no choice but to look up, and it’s clear from his face looming down at me that this is one of those cases where your mum sends you against your will to play with the kid who’s moved onto the street.
For a moment, I want to say yes. It’d be helpful, I know that.
But then I think about an agonising situation where he’s paying close attention to my wayward limbs and pointing out my flaws, and I know that will be the straw that breaks the camel’s back of my self-esteem.
‘I’m fine, honestly,’ I say, avoiding his eyes. The last thing he wants to be doing is wasting his time teaching 32me to dance, when that should be something I’m already acing if I deserved my place here.
‘Sure?’ he asks and I quickly nod. ‘Okay. I’m around if you want any … help with anything.’
He leaves me alone, and I clench my fists as I carry on by myself.
I try to put one foot forward, the other behind, then quickly transfer my weight to the front one without much success.
I nearly tie my feet in a knot when Elaine asks us all to make groups to ‘show the combination’.
Great. My complete lack of coordination is about to be seen by even more people when we dance in small groups.
‘Hey, I’m Ella!’ says the girl that I knocked over. ‘Do you wanna be with us?’
She’s stood with some of the visibly younger contestants, who are all so short I’ll definitely be seen.
I need a tall person to hide behind, but Oisín doesn’t look my way, performing some kind of secret handshake with a group of boys, and I can hardly go crawling to giant Olly for help now after I turned him down.
‘Aye, thank you. That sounds good,’ I say to Ella.
Her eyes bulge with excitement. ‘You’re Irish! What’s your name?’
‘It’s Tarun.’
‘Fab stuff,’ she says, grabbing my arm and pulling me into a formation with the other boy and girl in our group. ‘Let’s dance!’33
Olly
Dancing can be such a rush. And not in the way you feel when you’ve got two minutes till the bus comes and you’re still in your boxers. Performing Elaine’s combination to ‘Americano’ by Lady Gaga across the room is invigorating.
Zeb, Gabby and our adopted new friend Jasmine’s throwing of extra tricks pushes me to go harder, and when we’re meant to do a double pirouette at the end of the routine, I have enough momentum to throw in an extra spin and comfortably land a triple.
Elaine shouts, ‘Yes Olly! That’s how it’s done,’ as we land in front of her, further buoying me up, after she asked me to help Tarun, with belief that all six foot four and however many stone of me, can be a dancer.
She grabs me by the hand, her eyes burning into me with creative passion. ‘Keep that attack – always show me strength when you dance, yeah?’
I nod, before she ushers me on so the next group can go and my chest heaves as we join the back of the line. People are patting me on the sweaty back, congratulating me, but it’s Oisín slinking past that I notice.
‘Grand stuff,’ he whispers in my ear. ‘A year of dance lessons and you get to look like the ballerina hippos in Fantasia.’
I smile back at him, not allowing him to get into my 34head. ‘Thanks, darling! I always thought they were very talented.’
He rolls his eyes and moves on, preparing to dance himself.
Tarun’s group are going across the studio currently, and he looks like a different Disney character – Bambi on the ice – as he struggles to keep up with the explosive choreography.
I just can’t figure him out… Why wouldn’t he accept some help from me?
I was ecstatic when Zeb helped me with spotting my pirouettes in last year’s rehearsals.
We all perform for Elaine a few more times before she separates us into two groups – ‘Dancers’ and ‘Movers’, making the Assistant Stage Manager note down who is in which.
Last time I was very happily in the group of less-confident dancers, but when Elaine points me over to the higher-ability group, my heart swells.
Hopefully, it’s another way I can convince anyone watching from Ashford that I have what it takes to be a successful performer.
‘And let’s call that a break! Grab some water and we’ll get going with blocking in fifteen minutes.’
Following Elaine’s orders to the tee, I dash over to my water bottle by the mirrors, wiping my brow as I go.
‘Olly!’ calls out Marty, approaching me from the piano. ‘How are things?’
‘All the better for being back!’ I reply, clutching my bottle to my chest.35
‘Good! You’re doing drama school auditions this year, aren’t you?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘Still set on going to Ashford?’
‘More than anything.’
‘Let’s make sure you stand out from the crowd then,’ he says, examining me up and down, before lowering his voice. ‘You didn’t hear this from me, but Marie Benton’s going to be one of the judges this year.’
‘Wow,’ I say, genuinely surprised the infamous head of Ashford is coming to watch us perform. ‘I’d better be good in that case!’
‘You’ll be fine,’ he says, patting me on the shoulder. ‘There aren’t many leading-man types against you this year, just Oisín and a new boy, Hugo. All three of you very talented though! We just have to show you off in the right light, and Marie will be begging you to be one of her students.’
‘You really think? Thanks, Marty! I want to bring my A-game this year.’
‘I’m glad to see you’re in the proper mindset. You were smashing the rehearsals last year, but then during the final you … lost your shine.’
I swallow, hating that what Oisín did had an effect on my performance. ‘I’m laser-focused this week. I promise.’
‘Good. Go on and have your break then.’
‘Okay!’ I say, rushing past him with a spring in my step.
It seems both he and Elaine are backing me to do well, 36even if I’m directly pitted against Oisín, who I lock eyes with.
He pretends like he hasn’t been glaring at me for the entirety of Marty’s conversation, suddenly snapping his attention to our other rival, Hugo.
‘Well, the main reason I started doing musicals was to get girls – it adds a bit of scarcity factor when you’re a straight guy,’ scoffs Hugo, who I know from socials owns a pony and loves playing polo.
‘Is that why you joined Foyle Players?’ Oisín asks Tarun with a nudge of the elbow, chuckling. ‘Thought it’d be a good way to meet girls?’
The frown on Tarun’s forehead deepens. He must be pissed that Oisín’s accurately deciphered his motivations for being in musicals. Trying not to puke, I walk away.
‘Where’ve you been?’ Zeb asks as I arrive next to him.
‘Marty grabbed me for a chat,’ I say, and Zeb’s eyes light up.
‘And?’
‘And … he seems to be wanting me to do well…’
‘Yes, Ol!’ Zeb says, wrapping his arms around me. ‘Why aren’t you dancing the can-can for joy? This is exactly what we need to achieve your goal!’
I laugh. ‘I am, it’s just been pushed down by hearing Oisín facilitating conversations between the poshest boy in the world and Tarun about how “musicals are a great way to pick up chicks”.’37
‘Eww. I hate men. Did this Tarun only find out it was a musical-theatre competition this morning? His face looks like he’s been sent here as some form of community service…’
‘Actually,’ I say, my eyes lighting up to have some gossip to share. ‘Do you remember Oisín posted all over socials that he missed the opening night of his production of Les Mis because he had laryngitis?’
‘Of course – we thought he wouldn’t be able to be nominated and did a happy dance to “I’m Free” from Footloose on Facetime that evening.’
I laugh at the memory – Zeb having broken his revision streak the night before his chemistry mock to celebrate with me. ‘Well, it turns out grumpy Tarun was his understudy, and they’ve both been nominated for Marius.’
‘No way…’
I nod. ‘From what Oisín was saying, it sounds like it was only Tarun’s second show, and from the way he was looking at me whenever I spoke about musicals, I think he’s not a massive fan.’
‘Pfft! That explains it – Tarun Attri’s a first-time-fluker straight boy with no interest in why we’re all here.
Can there not be one thing the straights don’t try and steal from us?
We always have to pat them on the back for doing the bare minimum when they participate in our safe 38space, and now he’s taken the spot of someone who’d kill to be here when it doesn’t even matter to him. ’