4. Someone Worth Keeping
Someone Worth Keeping
JUNE
Eleanor
Food Log:
Breakfast:
Black coffee (no cream): 0 cals
Egg whites: 18 cals
Avocado (⒈／⒉): 140 cals
Greek yogurt (with honey): 140 cals
Lunch:
Grilled chicken: 130 cals
Cucumbers: 8 cals
Hummus (1 tbsp): 35 cals
Water (with lemon): 0 cals
Snack:
Apple (1): 95 cals
Peanut butter (2 tbsp): 188 cals
Protein bar: 330
Dinner:
Salmon (2 oz): 110 cals
Brown rice (⒈／⒋ cup): 55 cals
Steamed broccoli: 30 cals
Green tea: 0 cals
Total calories: 1,279 cals
Not terrible, but not great either. Maybe next time I’ll skip the honey with my yogurt. The scale dipped a little bit this morning which felt okay, but not amazing. I’ve been dieting since April, and I’ve only lost 1.9 pounds.
I’m starting to notice how bloated I feel after I eat rice or dairy. Maybe I’ll cut them out next time, just to see if that’s the cause. Maybe the snacks too, I don’t really need them anyway, considering I'm not losing weight.
I danced pretty well today. Maybe tomorrow I can add more conditioning to my routine during my break at work.
DON’T FORGET: Start sending in applications!!!
I close my journal and slip it back into my nightstand drawer. A quiet sigh escapes my lips as I turn toward the window, watching the last sliver of sunlight sink beneath the horizon, giving way to the stars above.
Spring season is officially over, and Giselle is a success for the Metropolitan Theatre of Ballet.
Every time I open my social media, I’m bombarded with posts on the production’s success.
New investors waiting to empty their pockets for Margaux, shining reviews declaring it’s the best show of the season, and my personal favorite: all the new promotions that are given out.
Sofia secured the principal spot, and Soren’s the one parading around his new prized possession.
Their smiling faces in that photo are burned into my brain.
I don’t know what game Sofia’s playing, but I guess I have my answer about Soren’s punishment.
The answer being, absolutely nothing. I shouldn’t be surprised though, considering he’s been with Margaux since the beginning.
What I can’t wrap my head around is Sofia. She was willing to lie, to get me fired, even though she seemed disgusted by what Soren did that day. Five years of friendship, gone in an instant. I’ve never felt so stupid. She really had me fooled.
There’s no sense dwelling on that now, though. I have too much on my plate to think of what could’ve been.
After getting fired, I woke up the next morning with a fiery determination.
I marched right into Forma Studios and pleaded with Paul to let me have my usual summer gig early.
Unfortunately for me, he already hired an apprentice for the gyrotonic trainer.
But the disappointment didn’t last long when he said he was looking for someone to work the front desk.
Was I helping with pointe conditioning classes?
No. But I’m still in the same facility, which means I’m able to attend the classes for free as long as my tasks aren’t neglected.
Five days a week, I exercise to my heart’s content.
I’m taking every class that’s available.
From Gyrokinesis, pre-pointe and foot/ankle conditioning, to spine and core, and tower sessions.
If it’s on the roster, I’m attending it.
The past few weeks, I’ve been trying to manage my food intake and make sure my body is fit for future auditions. Though, it’s not going well.
Auditions are usually held from January to March, but there’s always hope that there will be a company that has open spots, or needs a last-minute replacement.
Since this is my only option, I need to be in my best physical condition.
Anything less than perfect is unacceptable.
Well, according to my mother that is. I can still remember the phone call after she saw that I was taken out of the line-up, like it was yesterday.
My phone rang non-stop. It was Mom. Again.
The casting changes had gone public, and all my social media pages were blowing up. My name was replaced with Victoria’s. Not even an hour after it was posted, the calls started.
I didn’t want to face her yet. I already knew what waited on the other line, and I wasn’t ready to deal with her anger, comparisons, or disappointment.
I could’ve turned my phone off, but that would only delay the inevitable.
One way or another, I’d have to face her.
I’d rather do it over the phone than in person.
So I swallowed my pride and answered. “Hey, Mom.”
An exasperated sigh hit my ear. “Eleanor Odette Montgomery! I have been calling you for forty-five minutes.” Her heels clacked in the background. “Would you care to explain why Victoria Duvall’s name is beside Giselle’s in Act I and not yours?”
No. I absolutely did not want to explain.
“I got fired,” I said dryly.
“You—what? How did this happen, Eleanor? The season just started! Explain.” Her voice rose an octave with every word.
I kept it short; she never cared for the details anyway.
“My coach, Soren—you remember him—well, he…” I hesitated, shame thick in my throat.
“He what, Eleanor?” she snapped. “Spit. It. Out.”
I took a breath. “He called me a whale,” I said quietly. “Then he offered me an alternative to getting promoted… since my weight wasn’t exactly up to par.” I picked at a chipped corner of my nail polish, silently begging for this conversation to end.
She was silent for several seconds. Then, in a cold, clipped tone, she said,“Have you not been following the meal plans I pay for? And what alternative?”
“Soren… well, he—” I stumbled. “He asked me to sleep with him in exchange for becoming principal.”
“Did you say yes?” she asked, calm and steady.
“No, I didn’t say yes.” I scoffed. “I didn’t even get the chance to say no. He sent me back to rehearsals before I could respond. Someone overheard—”
“Why would you say no, Eleanor?” she exploded. “You’ve been working toward this your entire life! You should’ve taken the opportunity.”
Time warped into a glassy, unmoving frame. “Wait—what? You wanted me to say yes?”
The question sat between us like a lit match. However she answered it would either douse or spark the flame.
She lowered her voice, almost to a whisper. “You should have said yes. You take the opportunities you’re given and run with them. What, do you think every ballerina earns her place in an honorable way?” Her laugh was short and bitter. “These things require sacrifice,” she hissed, “and you failed.”
I tried to tell myself she was joking. That she didn’t actually expect me to pimp myself out for a bigger paycheck.
“Did you not hear me say someone overheard? She went to Margaux. It wouldn’t have mattered—”
“Oh, it would’ve mattered,” she said. “If you’d agreed, he could’ve fixed it. You think you’re the first dancer he’s approached? Please.”
I offered no response. There was never a time I’d won an argument with her.
She exhaled sharply. “You better hope another company takes you, Eleanor. It’s not just about talent anymore.
You need to be perfect—fit, driven, tireless.
You can’t stop dancing just because you’re out of work.
” She paused, letting her words burrow deep within me.
“And I don’t need to tell you how disappointed I am.
I can only hope you find somewhere willing to take you.
Though most companies…” Her voice turned to ice, “…don’t take in stray dogs, let alone hire an overweight ballerina. ”
Then the line went dead. I stared at my phone, her final words ricocheting through my thoughts.
No one will hire an overweight ballerina.
Little did she know that I wasn’t giving up, I was determined to find a new company, and lose the weight I needed to become noticeable.
She could either sit back and watch me, or swallow her pride when I shined. Either way, I was going to be everything she thought I wasn’t capable of being.
I get up from my bed and wander into the living room. My laptop waits patiently on the coffee table. I scoop it up, sink into the couch, and pull a blanket over me, settling in with a quiet exhale.
I search every ballet company within reach. From those just a few miles away to ones hours outside the city. I scroll through websites and scan the audition pages. I don’t care how far I have to go within the state of New York.
After searching for half an hour, I finally find a company accepting applications. Hudson Edge Ballet Company isn’t far from where I live. It’s perfect.
I hastily open my email to send my inquiry.
My mouse hovers over the send button, and my stomach dances with butterflies. I read my email twice and I make sure all my attached links and information are there. I hit send.
There’s no going back now.
You have got to be kidding me.
Weeks of carefully planned scheduling—gone. Training slots vanish like they never existed.
Normally, I’m not too upset over a co-worker making this kind of mistake, but it takes me hours to fix it. Hours I don’t have. Which means I missed two conditioning sessions.
And to make matters worse, Julian—of all people—decides to walk in.
He saunters into the gym like he owns it. His sweats are perfectly slouched, his hair artfully gelled. Seriously, who gels their hair for training? And his stupid duffel bag, monogrammed in gold, as if he’d ever forget who it belongs to.
I duck behind the computer, hoping he won’t notice me, but it’s too late. The weasel’s eyes catch mine.
“Montgomery,” he exclaims, walking up to the front desk.
I keep my head low behind the computer, hoping he’ll just walk past and leave me alone. But alas, my day’s destined to get worse.
His head pops up over the monitor, a grin spreading across his face.
“Well, well, well. What a surprise to see you here. I thought you fled the country after that whole Giselle fiasco. Honestly, I wouldn’t have blamed you. Humiliation’s a heavy weight to carry.”