audition …’
Honey rolls her eyes and Coco throws a cushion at me and says that I never talk about anything except the audition any more, and it’s beyond boring.
I feel as though I’ve been slapped, but Coco doesn’t mean to hurt me, I know. Is that really what my sisters think? That ballet is boring? That my dream is dull, pointless, pitiful? Spots of colour burn in my cheeks. I feel a million miles away from my sisters right now, an alien creature, outside looking in.
They don’t even notice I’m upset. You’d think the lot ofthem are heading for Hollywood any minute, the way they are talking. Skye wants to be a costume designer, Cherry a scriptwriter; Honey wants to be a movie star and Coco wants to train animals for films because she met a woman who did just that for a living. Finch has been asked to play a bit part in the rest of the film, as one of the gypsies. It’s a non-speaking part, but still, he is dreaming of fame and fortune.
‘They said I had something,’ he muses. ‘A kind of spark!’
‘You do,’ Skye tells him, wide-eyed. ‘Definitely. You were awesome. Me, I’ve never worked so hard, only it didn’t feel like work, not one bit. Best day of my life, I swear!’
She lines up a DVD of Breakfast at Tiffany’s , Grandma Kate’s favourite film. I like it too because it stars Audrey Hepburn who was very beautiful and very thin and once trained to be a ballet dancer.
Finch leans down to read the DVD box. He’s squished so close to Skye you’d think they were joined at the hip. It feels odd to see my twin with a boy. A few weeks ago I was the one with a boyfriend; things have turned upside down, and I am not sure I like it. It’s impossible not to like Finch, but it feels like he is all Skye is thinking about right now.
Grandma Kate comes in and everyone settles down asthe DVD begins. We watch the waiflike Audrey Hepburn sitting on a window ledge singing ‘Moon River’, the saddest, most beautiful song in the world, as the last of the pizza is handed round. I let it go by me.
Skye looks up briefly, her brows slanted into a frown. ‘Not hungry?’ she asks. ‘You love pizza, Summer!’
‘I ate at the dance school,’ I lie. ‘You know me, I always have an appetite after practice …’
Skye looks at me for a long moment, thoughtful, but then Finch nudges her and I am forgotten. My heart thumps. I am not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Mum’s not here, but maybe I could talk to Skye about all this?
Or maybe not. Skye is the person who knows me best in the world, but she has no idea I’m struggling. I am right here, in the middle of my family, yet I have never felt more alone. What’s happening to me? Why can’t somebody see what’s wrong? Skye is miles away, in some kind of fantasy world with Finch, their hands entwined as they watch the screen. I look at Grandma Kate and wish she wasn’t quite so easy to fool, or that Mum didn’t have to be on the other side of the world.
19
On Thursday Miss Elise asks us to show her our expressive dance pieces, and I panic. I seem to have lost the ability to turn music into dance. The sequences I’ve put together so far feel forced, awkward – they don’t hang together properly, and I feel like I am wearing clumpy boots instead of pointe shoes.
Miss Elise shakes her head. ‘Summer, that’s not good enough,’ she says quietly. ‘What’s going on? It’s a strong piece of music, but the dance doesn’t match up to it. It’s rough, unformed, amateurish. Haven’t you been working on it?’
My face floods scarlet. ‘I have, of course,’ I whisper.
‘Then work harder!’ Miss Elise says. ‘This is one thing I can’t help you with – it has to be your creativity, yourinterpretation of the music. The piece you’ve chosen is all about passion, fire … but I’m not getting any of that from your choreography. Your expressive dance has to be perfect for the audition, Summer; you don’t need me to tell you
Honey rolls her eyes and Coco throws a cushion at me and says that I never talk about anything except the audition any more, and it’s beyond boring.
I feel as though I’ve been slapped, but Coco doesn’t mean to hurt me, I know. Is that really what my sisters think? That ballet is boring? That my dream is dull, pointless, pitiful? Spots of colour burn in my cheeks. I feel a million miles away from my sisters right now, an alien creature, outside looking in.
They don’t even notice I’m upset. You’d think the lot ofthem are heading for Hollywood any minute, the way they are talking. Skye wants to be a costume designer, Cherry a scriptwriter; Honey wants to be a movie star and Coco wants to train animals for films because she met a woman who did just that for a living. Finch has been asked to play a bit part in the rest of the film, as one of the gypsies. It’s a non-speaking part, but still, he is dreaming of fame and fortune.
‘They said I had something,’ he muses. ‘A kind of spark!’
‘You do,’ Skye tells him, wide-eyed. ‘Definitely. You were awesome. Me, I’ve never worked so hard, only it didn’t feel like work, not one bit. Best day of my life, I swear!’
She lines up a DVD of Breakfast at Tiffany’s , Grandma Kate’s favourite film. I like it too because it stars Audrey Hepburn who was very beautiful and very thin and once trained to be a ballet dancer.
Finch leans down to read the DVD box. He’s squished so close to Skye you’d think they were joined at the hip. It feels odd to see my twin with a boy. A few weeks ago I was the one with a boyfriend; things have turned upside down, and I am not sure I like it. It’s impossible not to like Finch, but it feels like he is all Skye is thinking about right now.
Grandma Kate comes in and everyone settles down asthe DVD begins. We watch the waiflike Audrey Hepburn sitting on a window ledge singing ‘Moon River’, the saddest, most beautiful song in the world, as the last of the pizza is handed round. I let it go by me.
Skye looks up briefly, her brows slanted into a frown. ‘Not hungry?’ she asks. ‘You love pizza, Summer!’
‘I ate at the dance school,’ I lie. ‘You know me, I always have an appetite after practice …’
Skye looks at me for a long moment, thoughtful, but then Finch nudges her and I am forgotten. My heart thumps. I am not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Mum’s not here, but maybe I could talk to Skye about all this?
Or maybe not. Skye is the person who knows me best in the world, but she has no idea I’m struggling. I am right here, in the middle of my family, yet I have never felt more alone. What’s happening to me? Why can’t somebody see what’s wrong? Skye is miles away, in some kind of fantasy world with Finch, their hands entwined as they watch the screen. I look at Grandma Kate and wish she wasn’t quite so easy to fool, or that Mum didn’t have to be on the other side of the world.
19
On Thursday Miss Elise asks us to show her our expressive dance pieces, and I panic. I seem to have lost the ability to turn music into dance. The sequences I’ve put together so far feel forced, awkward – they don’t hang together properly, and I feel like I am wearing clumpy boots instead of pointe shoes.
Miss Elise shakes her head. ‘Summer, that’s not good enough,’ she says quietly. ‘What’s going on? It’s a strong piece of music, but the dance doesn’t match up to it. It’s rough, unformed, amateurish. Haven’t you been working on it?’
My face floods scarlet. ‘I have, of course,’ I whisper.
‘Then work harder!’ Miss Elise says. ‘This is one thing I can’t help you with – it has to be your creativity, yourinterpretation of the music. The piece you’ve chosen is all about passion, fire … but I’m not getting any of that from your choreography. Your expressive dance has to be perfect for the audition, Summer; you don’t need me to tell you
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