CHAPTER 1
Why am I here? More to the point, why is anyone else here auditioning for the National Academy of Dance? I’ve got no choice. When your parentals are Australia’s leading dance duo – prima ballerina and top choreographer – then you’re simply going into the family business.
I’m like a greengrocer’s daughter putting out the oranges for sale. There was never any discussion about whether I would come here. Nobody ever asked, ‘And what does Kat want to be when she grows up?’ It was just assumed by everyone, including me. I was always going to audition and always going to get into the Academy.
But I don’t know why anyone would actually choose the life of a dancer and I don’t know why everyone has to treat this all so seriously. TakeAbigail. You’d think she was running for President of the World the way she’s been dedicated to this since the day we started the junior school together. She was determined enough at age ten to invade and conquer a few small countries. Nothing is going to get in her way.
And take this doe-eyed, desperately hopeful bunhead tripping down the corridor towards me, nervously asking for directions to the changing room. She’s got ‘country girl who was top of her ballet class’ written all over her anxious face. So naturally when she asks for directions to the changing rooms I can’t resist directing her to the boys’ room.
Seriously, these kids are all taking the auditions way too seriously. At our first session you can practically smell the nerves, particularly from Sammy, who seems to be polluting the atmosphere pretty regularly. So I put a bit of hip-hop music on and see if anyone wants some fun. I dance around with Sammy, trying to get him to loosen up a bit, but he gulps like I’m some secret dance test.
There is one guy wearing board shorts instead of tights. His name’s Christian and I’m impressed with the gear, but even he looks pretty moody.
The girl I met in the corridor comes in.
‘Hey, did you find the dressing room okay?’ She meets my question with a ‘don’t let her see I’m upset’ look.
‘Fine. Thanks.’
Oops. Perhaps I went too far. But then she is heading over to Abigail, queen of the bunheads, so she may be going for world domination, too. The class begins and we do the stuff we’ve done a thousand times before. Yawn.
At lunchtime I’m outside at the café on the wharf by the harbour with my half-brother, Ethan. He’s a third year and an alleged hot guy. I can’t see it myself, but my classmates from junior school take turns to have crushes on him and get their hearts broken. I now have a rule – no being friends with PEVs – Potential Ethan Victims. I hate having to clear up after him.
I have a horrid feeling he’s checking up on me as he grabs some of my chocolate cake.
‘Don’t worry,’ I reassure him, ‘you can report back to the parentals that I’m here, as requested. Dancing my heart out.’
‘Yeah, if only that were true.’
I leave him to wallow in his own gorgeousness and find another seat. Tara, the fresh-faced countrygirl, is there with Abigail and her sidekick, Georgia. Abigail seems to be taking Tara under her wing – a dangerous place to be. Perhaps I should help.
‘Oops about before,’ I say. ‘I’m crap at giving directions.’
Tara doesn’t answer and Abigail just snorts. We used to be friends when we were about six and before she got hooked on the idea of conquering the dance world.
‘A bunch of us are heading out after class. Do you want to come? I’d invite Abigail but it’d interfere with her sit-ups.’
Abigail ignores me and moves away. Georgia trots off behind her. Tara hesitates. I think that there may be some hope for her, but then she says, ‘Sorry, I just want to concentrate on my classes this week.’
It is the standard bunhead response. Running around after Abigail, Tara is on the brink of being a lost cause, but something tells me I shouldn’t give up on her.
The
Why am I here? More to the point, why is anyone else here auditioning for the National Academy of Dance? I’ve got no choice. When your parentals are Australia’s leading dance duo – prima ballerina and top choreographer – then you’re simply going into the family business.
I’m like a greengrocer’s daughter putting out the oranges for sale. There was never any discussion about whether I would come here. Nobody ever asked, ‘And what does Kat want to be when she grows up?’ It was just assumed by everyone, including me. I was always going to audition and always going to get into the Academy.
But I don’t know why anyone would actually choose the life of a dancer and I don’t know why everyone has to treat this all so seriously. TakeAbigail. You’d think she was running for President of the World the way she’s been dedicated to this since the day we started the junior school together. She was determined enough at age ten to invade and conquer a few small countries. Nothing is going to get in her way.
And take this doe-eyed, desperately hopeful bunhead tripping down the corridor towards me, nervously asking for directions to the changing room. She’s got ‘country girl who was top of her ballet class’ written all over her anxious face. So naturally when she asks for directions to the changing rooms I can’t resist directing her to the boys’ room.
Seriously, these kids are all taking the auditions way too seriously. At our first session you can practically smell the nerves, particularly from Sammy, who seems to be polluting the atmosphere pretty regularly. So I put a bit of hip-hop music on and see if anyone wants some fun. I dance around with Sammy, trying to get him to loosen up a bit, but he gulps like I’m some secret dance test.
There is one guy wearing board shorts instead of tights. His name’s Christian and I’m impressed with the gear, but even he looks pretty moody.
The girl I met in the corridor comes in.
‘Hey, did you find the dressing room okay?’ She meets my question with a ‘don’t let her see I’m upset’ look.
‘Fine. Thanks.’
Oops. Perhaps I went too far. But then she is heading over to Abigail, queen of the bunheads, so she may be going for world domination, too. The class begins and we do the stuff we’ve done a thousand times before. Yawn.
At lunchtime I’m outside at the café on the wharf by the harbour with my half-brother, Ethan. He’s a third year and an alleged hot guy. I can’t see it myself, but my classmates from junior school take turns to have crushes on him and get their hearts broken. I now have a rule – no being friends with PEVs – Potential Ethan Victims. I hate having to clear up after him.
I have a horrid feeling he’s checking up on me as he grabs some of my chocolate cake.
‘Don’t worry,’ I reassure him, ‘you can report back to the parentals that I’m here, as requested. Dancing my heart out.’
‘Yeah, if only that were true.’
I leave him to wallow in his own gorgeousness and find another seat. Tara, the fresh-faced countrygirl, is there with Abigail and her sidekick, Georgia. Abigail seems to be taking Tara under her wing – a dangerous place to be. Perhaps I should help.
‘Oops about before,’ I say. ‘I’m crap at giving directions.’
Tara doesn’t answer and Abigail just snorts. We used to be friends when we were about six and before she got hooked on the idea of conquering the dance world.
‘A bunch of us are heading out after class. Do you want to come? I’d invite Abigail but it’d interfere with her sit-ups.’
Abigail ignores me and moves away. Georgia trots off behind her. Tara hesitates. I think that there may be some hope for her, but then she says, ‘Sorry, I just want to concentrate on my classes this week.’
It is the standard bunhead response. Running around after Abigail, Tara is on the brink of being a lost cause, but something tells me I shouldn’t give up on her.
The
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