Chapter Six #3
“Mmm,” she says, continuing her makeup. “What will you be doing?”
Picturing the bell belt, I deflate. It’s no fire-eating. “I’ll dance. Just dance.”
Before she can question me further, I turn back to Pearl, who’s watching us both with curiosity. I ask, “What about you?”
“Ah. I sing while I dance. Lysander uses aerial silks.”
“Star has nothing but her dancing,” Tanna interrupts.
“She’s so good she doesn’t need anything extra.
I’m guessing that’s why you only have bells.
You always did have a natural ability…” She twists up her hair with two golden clips shaped like dragonflies.
Their eyes wink at me—rubies. She gives me an inscrutable look.
Not unkind. But…something. I’m probably imagining the flash of regret.
Could she be sorry she can’t celebrate this milestone with me?
I waver, unsure what to say to that. Thank you for helping to train me? But damn you for hurting me?
“Anyway, we should let you get ready,” Pearl says kindly.
I throw her a smile of thanks. Going to the wardrobe, I hang up the two costumes Becka gave me.
One is the white of a swan with rhinestones dotting the bodice, the other a dark gray, with a long, pitch-black underskirt, silver threads embroidered around the bustline.
I’ll look like a princess in these, like an enchantress. I’ll look like a real ballerina.
While the other dancers finish readying themselves, I grab a few palettes that came from the apothecary from a table in one corner.
It’s always the same set for the Clover dancers: face powder from a warm reed brown to seashell white; rouge with both cool and warm undertones; vivid lip colors; sparkling eye stains in indigo and gold; chalky color sticks.
As I walk back to the dressing table, I admire the products; it’s somewhat surreal, having these two aspects of my life colliding in this moment.
I set the cosmetics among my personal belongings: my rose-salt perfume oil; hairpins; ribbon; and earrings of miniature silver vines.
My hands shake as I clip them on. I started dancing late, I’ve trained mostly on my own and only have a fraction of the experience the others have. What if it’s not enough?
I sit, overwhelmed, and a bit lost.
Staring into the mirror before me, I gauge my feelings.
I’m nervous, yes, almost sick to my stomach with it.
But underlying that is such excitement. I’m here.
I’m at The Red Clover! And soon, I’ll be dancing.
Is it wrong to be happy when I’m still missing Aven so much?
Is it wrong that I’ve forgotten to be sad for a moment?
I push away the guilt. Aven would tell me to stop.
To enjoy myself. To move on. Of course I’d argue with her, the way I always lovingly did, but I can’t deny the truth: this moment is a good one.
I only wish she were here to share it with me.
“Need some help?” A voice interrupts my thoughts, and I look up at the softest face I’ve ever seen.
Round curve of the chin, golden apples for cheeks, the nearly white-blonde hair, the sparkling eyes that crinkle at the corners, the even brighter sparkle of the hefty, star-shaped earrings.
If I’m not wrong, those are real diamonds.
“Star?” I recognize her from her poster.
“Ah, the very one.” Star gracefully slides her full body into a chair and scoots it closer to mine, then picks up a brush without me asking.
“Close your eyes.” She smells like vanilla, apple, and some sweet flower that I can’t quite place.
Nobody has done my face up since Aven. I didn’t realize I’d missed it until I swallow the lump in my throat.
This woman feels motherly, in the same way my sister did.
“Nervous?” Star asks.
I open my eyes to gaze at her. Her voice is mature, though her face is unlined. She can’t be more than thirty years of age, but I’d suppose she’s the most senior of them all. I’d guess Pearl is the youngest here, then maybe me next—twenty-two this past spring. “A little.”
“It’ll be nice to get some new blood around here. The patrons will like it too. All done.”
I smile as I turn back to the mirror. She did well, the rich look stands out, perfect for the stage. “Thank you.”
Star squeezes my arm. “I’m off to warm up.” Then she gives me one last friendly wave before she leaves the room, blowing kisses at the others. “Bye, girls.”
“I’m worried I’ll forget my choreography—I only just made something up. Is that a problem?” I ponder aloud as the room quiets. I don’t even care if I sound vulnerable in front of Tanna. I know Julian said it was fine, but haven’t they all been practicing their sets for a week or more? Months even?
Pearl says, “It’s your first night. You can do something on the spot if you forget, can you not?”
The way I danced before, unbidden, the way it just came to me, makes me nod in agreement.
“We work on routines and come up with show sets each month, sometimes as a group, but usually alone. Try not to be nervous,” she encourages. “Also, be certain to curtsey at the end. Julian gets angry if we forget.” Her hazel eyes twinkle with mischief—as though she sort of likes the idea.
“Oh, and don’t smoke or anything outside the theatre. We’re supposed to be on our ‘best behavior’ while we represent the Clover.” Tanna makes a face.
How much will she be scrutinizing my technique? Recognizing my movements as things she taught me not that long ago? I picture the strangers that will be staring at me from the crowd. What if I fumble? What if I freeze? My stomach does a backflip.
It’s not until I tie on the red shoes and warm up again, waiting for my turn to dance in the show, that my nerves truly fade away.
I watch from the wings along with Lysander, a handsome, muscled dancer with curly hair and one blue eye, one green.
He tosses a grin at me like we’re fast friends, and I can’t help but return it.
My anticipation takes precedence over everything now.
Pearl finishes up her routine, and it is so exquisite I have to stop myself from joining her, the beauty of what she’s creating with her movements and her song inviting me in. She’s the picture of pure joy as she twirls, her extension flawless.
“She’s good,” I breathe.
“She is,” Lysander says, nodding then charmingly tossing his hair. “You’re up next.”
I fasten the bell belt around my waist, and against the gently swaying tulle skirt, it rings pleasantly.
I adjust my costume and check myself over in the mirror hanging in the wings for last-minute touch-ups.
My eyes dressed in silver and black, my cheeks rouged, a crimson stain on my lips, pronounced when my mouth stretches into a smile. And there’s nothing pasted about it.
Pearl swishes offstage, breathless, face dewy with sweat. “Good luck, Bell.”
“Thank you.” I beam at both her and Lysander and take one last deep breath.
Then I am onstage, performing for the first time as Bell of The Red Clover, in my scarlet slippers and white costume.
The whole performance is like a dream. When I am finished, the audience gives me a standing ovation.
Flushed from exertion and a humble—almost disbelieving—gratitude, I dip into a deep curtsey, and, when I glance up, I find Sélie in the front row, tears running down her face.
She is the last to sit. It takes everything in me not to cry as well.
Out of love, of thanks, of wishing so badly Aven hadn’t missed this moment.
When I see Sélie after the show, she stares with awe. “You were so beautiful, Corliss.”
Hugging her to me, I squeeze hard. “I’m glad you came.”
She tugs on the belt around my waist and says, “These could have been louder, though.”
I release her and laugh, pulling her toward the rest of the performers, everyone making their way back to the dressing rooms. “Don’t tell Julian. I don’t want to wear any more of these. I feel a bit pathetic. Most everyone else has something so flashy…”
When we catch up to the other dancers, I introduce her. “Everyone, this is my sister, Sélie. She came to watch the show.”
“It was wonderful!” Sélie says, smiling widely at them all. “All of you, just wonderful.”
“I like you already.” Lysander smirks, shaking her hand.
Pearl reaches her hand out as well. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Your voice…” my sister praises. “It was so amazing.”
With a delighted smile, Pearl says, “Thank you.”
Then Sélie is sure to compliment each one of them in turn, so that nobody feels left out. So that they all know how much she enjoyed the show.
I feel such a rush, the euphoria from dancing still running through me, and I’m afraid of the questions that might lurk when it wears off. I reluctantly pull away to change out of my costume before meeting my sister in the hall, and once ready to go, the two of us head out of the theatre.
“Can I come again to watch you?” Sélie presses.
“I’ll get you a ticket anytime you want, love,” I promise as we leave the building, the marquee still shining. “But I think you should wait until I get my next routine set. I want to surprise you.”
“Wonderful. Now, a treat maybe? We haven’t gotten one in so long. The sweet shop is still open…”
“Alright.” I nod, no coaxing necessary. Not that I’m hungry—but that she is.
We move through the streets, Sélie chattering away.
We pass market vendors selling fresh flowers, trinkets, jewelry, scarves of cobalt, cream, a burgundy stitched with gold threads that coil like snakes, and fruit pastries.
But there’s something in the air pressing against me…
leaving me cold and anxious. Why? I had one of the best nights of my life.
If only Aven were here to share this moment with us.
A sudden shame fills me, slamming me back to reality.