Chapter 10 #2
“Another reminder: The pas de deux is about passion. About love and pain. Think about Florine and the Blue Bird from The Sleeping Beauty. Think of Odile and the prince from Swan Lake and Giselle. You don’t have to like your partner for your dancing to be effective.
But the better you harmonize with one another, and the more you feel, the better you will be,” Francesca says.
I can’t shake the feeling that her words are aimed directly at me.
“Now, please try again, and keep that in mind.”
Jase and I don’t say a thing to each other, even when he comes to face me and offers his hand.
He’s still refusing to look at me, and I want to say something, anything.
But my mouth has gone completely dry, and my mind is suddenly blank.
There’s nothing to say. It’s too late for an explanation and way too late for an apology.
My fingers tremble, but I force myself to raise my arm and put my hand in his. When I feel his skin under my fingertips, my treacherous heart stops for a moment.
Time dilates, slows down, slower and slower until it seems to run backward, and my stomach begins to clench frantically. My breathing is suddenly far too fast and shallow. My body feels like it’s burning.
The panic hits me again.
I twitch and start to pull back, but Jase holds my hands tightly, giving me no chance to pull away from him.
“Forget it. You’re not running away again,” he says. His sharp tone of voice sends a shiver down my back.
I didn’t run away because of you, I want to say, but my vocal chords have other plans. I can only stare at him with wide eyes as a tingling numbness begins to spread from the back of my neck.
“I—” I say, but he interrupts me.
“I’m not interested. Just concentrate.” He gives me a look that could kill as we take our position in the second row.
I open my mouth and then close it again, because I don’t know what to say.
Instead, I do what he wants because I have no other choice, even though everything inside of me is resisting.
I concentrate on Francesca’s words, and my feet follow her instructions.
Fifth position. The pain flares in each muscle, in my legs, arms, below my ribs, and in my back.
The pain that has accompanied me for years.
I have permanent tension in my whole body, which I owe to countless hours of practice every single day.
But I can’t stop my muscles from trying to lock in place and my heart from threatening to jump out of my chest. If I could, I would have done it a long time ago.
Shaking, I exhale slowly and raise my head so I can look in the mirror. A pair of green eyes gazes back, unmoved. I blink. I hate that he’s looking at me that way.
Francesca is still speaking, explaining which positions we should practice next, but I only understand half of what she’s saying. Pirouette, attitude, and arabesque. The rest blends into an indistinct murmur that reaches my ears but doesn’t register in my brain.
My hand is in Jase’s, and the urge to run away again is overwhelming.
At the same time, there’s a part of me that wishes he would hold my hand tighter.
A burning desire to throw myself against his chest and let him take me in his arms while I tell him all the terrible secrets I’ve kept from him comes out of nowhere.
I almost have to laugh. It’s a sad, desperate feeling. It makes no sense. Jase is the last person I want to tell what happened to me, and I’m sure he’s the last person who wants to hear about it.
Jase snaps me out of my thoughts by tugging roughly on my hand.
I stumble and almost fall, but he catches me and sets me safely back on my feet.
The muscles in my back tense as he puts his hands on my waist, and his touch burns like fire.
Once again, the trembling creeps up inside of me.
It starts in my hands, an involuntary tensing and relaxing of muscles.
Not now. Not again.
Francesca gives us a signal, and my knees go into a plié all by themselves.
I listen to her instructions because it’s the only thing I’m capable of doing right now.
I push off the floor, relevé on top, stretch my right leg to the front, bring it to the side, bend it back to the left knee, and turn, my gaze fixed on Jase’s far-too-perfect face in the mirror for as long as possible.
At this moment, he’s my fixed point, and his gaze is responsible for ensuring that I don’t lose my balance or get dizzy. And for that one moment, everything is easy. For a moment, the fear subsides.
He stands beside me, strong and unwavering, and my pirouette is . . . not perfect, but for the first time, not an absolute disaster either.
I almost weep with relief, but the feeling quickly fades when Jase looks at me from the mirror, his brow furrowed.
“That wasn’t complete shit,” he says.
The shame makes me blush. Is he serious? I stare at him uncomprehendingly, trying to find a clever answer and coming up with nothing. I’m at a loss for words.
Francesca appears next to us. “That was better, but not good enough yet. One more time from the beginning.”
We take position again, and I’m so humiliated that I wish I could sink into the floor.
Jase blows on the back of my neck, and I gasp involuntarily. “What’s wrong, Pixie? Have I left you speechless?” he whispers in my ear so quietly that Francesca, who is still next to us, can’t hear him.
My face is burning, and now I’m even more determined to show him that I can do it better. We keep going. But I can’t.
* * *
“Raphael and Skye, Mae and Ches, Kaya and Ben, Zoe and Jase,” Francesca announces at the end of the lesson. I can’t hear the rest of her choices; cold sweat is breaking out on my forehead.
Jase is my partner. We are a couple. A dancing couple. One part of me is relieved, and the other part is so panicked that I begin trembling and my teeth chatter. Bile rises in my throat, but I swallow it down. I can’t throw up. Not now.
A few more minutes. Hold on for a few more minutes. I sigh with relief when Francesca finally lets us go. But I don’t even make it to my bag before she calls me back. With Jase, of course.
I walk over to them on shaky legs, praying that whatever she wants won’t take long. I really need to get out of here.
“Zoe, I’ve spoken to your other teachers,” Francesca says as I stop in front of her.
My stomach drops with a jerk. “You seem to be doing much better in every course but the pas de deux. Otherwise, I would have recommended that you give up your place to another student. What I’ve seen from you so far doesn’t even begin to match the level of the other girls here. ”
Her words hit me like a punch in the gut. Hard and unrelenting. All at once, my throat closes, and I start blinking frantically to force back the tears welling up in my eyes. They burn like acid.
“I’m not happy about giving you Jase as a partner, but of all the pairings we’ve tried, you work best together.” Either she doesn’t realize how much her words are hurting me or she doesn’t care. Jase makes a sound that could mean anything or nothing, but I can’t manage to look at him.
“I’m sorry. I . . . I—” I stammer, but Francesca silences me with a gesture of her hand.
“I’m not finished. I’m not happy with the decision I had to make, but you can prove to me over the next few months that I’m wrong.
The pas de deux is all about collaboration.
It’s about connection and trust. So make sure you can trust each other and learn to work together.
I don’t care how you do it, but make sure you work as a pair.
Otherwise, I may have to reconsider my decision.
Is that clear?” She watches us closely and waits until we both nod. “Fine. You can go now.”
She shoos us out of the room, and I rush to pick up my bag and pack my things before I run away again. Francesca’s words haunt me; they blur and become meaningless white noise until only two remain.
Zoe and Jase.
Jase and me. Jase and me. Jase and me.