Chapter 5
Rayne
Waking Up (Acoustic)—PVRIS
It’s a short drive from Grandma’s house to the New England School of Ballet campus.
“Francis, please wait until Rayne and I are back,” Grandma says as the car pulls into the school parking lot.
I feel briefly guilty, because I’m sure Francis has something better to do on a Sunday morning than wait for me to find out where to put all the stuff that’s in the trunk.
But it’s not like I can take everything with me to my meeting with Mr. Pearson.
One suitcase might be okay, everything else .
. . probably not. Besides, Grandma still needs to be driven home afterward.
“Of course, Mrs. Bennett,” Francis replies politely.
Grandma nods curtly and opens the door. The chilly January wind blows into the car, and I shudder. It’s colder than it was a few days ago. The sky is covered with thick gray clouds. It feels like it’s going to snow.
“Hurry up, Rayne.” Grandma slides her purse over her shoulder and glances at me impatiently.
I repress a sigh and get out of the car.
Grandma is already a few steps ahead of me.
I follow her over the parking lot, heading to the cast-iron gate set in the sandstone wall that surrounds the campus.
The name of the school is emblazoned in unadorned letters above the archway, and I forget to breathe for a moment as we enter and I see my mom’s alma mater for the first time.
Of course I’ve seen photos before, but none of them even come close to reality.
The campus is beautiful, built in the Victorian style.
Red sandstone, bay windows, high tiled roofs.
In the middle of the campus is the New England Theater, the school’s own performance venue—and its heart.
All the other buildings are positioned around it: the two dormitories, the administration building, and the practice building.
The campus is spacious, with a large lawn and dozens of trees. When everything starts to bloom in spring, it must be breathtaking.
Apart from us, there’s hardly anyone outside, but the dorm windows are brightly lit, and lights are also on in the practice studios.
Here and there, I can make out the dark shadows of students practicing.
It seems like many of them have already returned after the winter break, but I’m too far away to see more.
I only notice that I’ve slowed down when Grandma gives me an impatient glance over her shoulder.
“Sorry,” I murmur, but she doesn’t answer, and I’m not even sure if she heard me. I walk faster, but still only catch up with her long after she’s reached the administration building.
The entryway is magnificent and totally silent.
There’s no one here but us; after all, it’s Sunday.
From the door, we walk straight to the reception desk, past cozy seating areas in front of the tall windows.
Pictures of dancers in various poses hang on the walls.
My heart skips a beat, and I wonder if there’s a picture of Mom here.
Instinctively, I move toward the photos, my hands sweating and my chest suddenly feeling much too tight.
I saw Mom dance more times than I can count throughout my life.
There are many pictures of her dancing. But the pictures hanging on these walls are different.
I don’t know why I want a photo of her to be here, but I do. So much that it hurts.
“Rayne, please hurry. We’re already late.
” Grandma’s voice stops me in my tracks before I can get a good look at the first picture.
She disappears into one of the hallways that branch off behind the reception area, her footsteps echoing sharply through the building.
I hesitate. I just want to look at these pictures; it won’t take long.
But of course that’s not true: It would take ages to look at them all.
Disappointed, I turn away and follow her again, up two flights of stairs and to the left. She stops in front of a dark wooden door. She’s just about to knock when she pauses again. “Are you ready?”
I nod, even though I’ve never been less ready for anything. My stomach tightens nervously and my hands clench into fists all by themselves. I wish I had something to hold on to, but my suitcase is still in the car.
Grandma knocks, and a moment later the door opens. I see a tall, slender man who smiles warmly at Grandma and then at me.
“Penelope, it’s lovely to see you.” Mr. Pearson steps aside and ushers us into his office.
He’s attractive, with a striking face and dark hair streaked with silver and gray.
His smile is friendly, and the look in his dark eyes is kind.
He’s wearing black pants, a white shirt, and a gray jacket.
His office is bright and spacious, with a huge desk sitting in front of a tall window.
There are three chairs in front of the desk, and apart from a bookshelf and a low sideboard, there’s no other furniture in the room. Simple and tasteful.
“Thank you for taking the time to see us, Travis.” Grandma puts a hand on my back, and I stiffen. “This is Rayne, my granddaughter.”
“Pleased to meet you.” His voice is deep and warm. Then his smile fades, and I know what he’s going to say. I know because it always comes, but I don’t want to hear it. “I’m very sorry about your parents.”
When I hear the words, my throat tightens. I have to force myself to answer.
“Thank you.” My voice is quiet, almost a murmur.
An uncomfortable silence follows, like it always does when no one knows what to say next.
“Have a seat,” Mr. Pearson finally says, his smile back. I’m glad. If he had said anything else about Mom and Dad, I would have started crying.
I sit down on the chair to the right, and Grandma takes the one on the left, while Pearson walks around the desk. The chair between us in the middle is empty.
“Would you like me to tell you a little bit about the school first?” he asks, focusing entirely on me.
“Sure,” I reply hoarsely, even though I probably already know everything about it, from either Mom or the school website.
He starts talking, and I like his voice.
I like the way he speaks, calmly but with unmistakable pride.
You can tell he enjoys being principal here.
He tells me about the history of the school, the values we’re supposed to learn, and that it’s not just about ballet, but about finding our direction.
Making friends, getting to know ourselves, and finding out what we really want.
“Do you have any questions?” he finally asks.
I shake my head. “Not at the moment.”
“If you do, you can come to me or talk to your teachers any time.” He gets up and walks over to a shelf.
A moment later, he puts a gray jute bag on the table in front of me.
“In this bag, you’ll find everything you need for your first few days with us.
Your schedule, the school rules, and of course the sweatshirt that everyone gets.
You have basically the same schedule as everyone else in your grade, aside from electives.
I’ve already arranged with Miss Chelsea that you won’t be dancing in pointe shoes yet.
But you’ll still attend her class and work on your technique, okay? ”
I’m so taken by surprise that I can only nod silently. No pointe work. I’m not sure whether I’m relieved or not. Part of me is glad because I’m not ready after such a long break, and because I found pointe difficult enough before. I don’t know how the rest of me feels right now.
Pearson glances briefly at Grandma and then gives me an encouraging smile. “I hope you’ll settle in quickly. But please don’t put too much pressure on yourself. You’re here to learn and grow, and that doesn’t happen overnight. You’ve been through a lot. Take your time, okay?”
I’m not sure why I suddenly feel like crying again. Maybe I just didn’t expect him to be so nice.
“Okay.”
“Wonderful. Your classes start tomorrow at nine.” He turns to my grandmother. “Penelope, do you have a moment? I’d like to discuss something with you.”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.” He glances at his watch and smiles.
Then he hands me something that doesn’t register with me until a moment later as the key to my new room.
“I’m afraid I don’t have time to show you around today, but I think I’ve found someone who can.
” He walks to the door, and I automatically turn around in my chair as Grandma does the same.
The back of my neck prickles nervously. What is he talking about?
The question is answered as two girls enter the office, both with red hair, one more coppery, the other auburn.
“Meet Zoe and Mae,” Pearson says, introducing them. “They’re also freshmen. You’re in the same hallway in the dorm. They’ll show you around.”
“Hi!” Mae, the girl with auburn hair, grins at me. “Shall we go?”
“Sure.” I glance briefly at Grandma, not sure why. I don’t need her permission. She nods anyway.
“Go ahead.”
I stand up, feeling indecisive for a moment. Hugging Grandma goodbye is out of the question. We don’t have that kind of relationship.
“Let’s go, then.” Mae’s smile gets wider.
I nod stiffly to Grandma one last time and give Pearson a grateful smile. Then I take the bag from the desk and follow the two girls who are waiting for me at the door. But before I leave the principal’s office, he stops me.
“Oh, Rayne?”
I turn around. Grandma has her back to me already.
Pearson’s expression is warm. “Welcome to the New England School of Ballet.”