Christian Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  Copyright

  Have you read all of the Dance Academy books?

  CHAPTER 1

  It’s hell out there. Stressed out ballerinas threatening to throw up their gluten-free, sugar-free, fat-free breakfast bars. Boys in tights looking like they’re about to cry. I find sanctuary from the last minute insanity in the change rooms though I have no intention of changing into anything resembling a pair of tights.

  Just save me from the ballerinas, I groan to myself. They are the strangest breed I have ever encountered. Just as I think that, one bursts into the guys’ dressing room and starts pulling her clothes off. I wait for her to notice her mistake and leave, so I can get back to contemplating how I ended up here. She doesn’t.

  ‘Don’t let me stop you,’ I say, to get her attention.

  She ducks behind the dividing wall, all gasping and hysterical. ‘I have pepper spray in my bag and I’m not afraid to use it!’

  ‘Hey,’ I protest. ‘I was just in here, minding my own business …’

  ‘In the girls’ dressing room?’

  I grin. ‘Pretty sure those are urinals in there. Unless you can go standing up …’ She peers around at the urinals and gasps, mortified. Her reaction is actually quite amusing. ‘You– uh–might need this,’ I say, offering up her T-shirt. She somehow manages to grab it and keep her arms crossed over her modest bra.

  ‘Can you turn around?’ she demands.

  As if there’s a whole heap to see. Just as we’re getting to know each other (well, as I tease and she bites, like fishing in a barrel), we’re interrupted by Prince Charming, the Academy’s heir apparent by the look of him.

  He raises his eyebrows. ‘Sorry, guys. I’ll come back later.’

  The girl stammers a protest but he’s already gone. At last she manages to stuff herself into her insideout T-shirt. ‘I’m glad you find this so hilarious,’ she snaps at me.

  And I do, I really do. This girl is quite something.

  She grabs her bag and runs out.

  In the audition room, the Academy Director gives a ‘we’re special, you’re special, everyone’s special’ speech. A ripple of electricity passes through the room. I try to stay immune to it, but I can’t help feeling some of the buzz. I remind myself that even if I get in, there’s no way I’m going here.

  The girl from the change room rushes in, gasping apologies. The teachers give her death looks but, hey, at least she’s dressed.

  ‘You have already been selected from thousands of dancers. However we have room in first year for just a few. Over the coming days, it’s your job to prove you should be among them.’

  I glance over at the girl. Where I’m conflicted, she obviously really wants to be here and knows this is the place for her. I actually feel sort of sorry for her, she’s obviously way out of her depth, innocent and wide-eyed.

  The male teacher–Patrick–calls the boys in. Miss Raine’s evil eye lands on me, taking in my boardies and singlet.

  ‘Patrick, may I have a word?’ She indicates for me to follow them. ‘This young man didn’t bring any tights.’

  ‘Christian Reed, isn’t it?’ Patrick says in the corridor.

  ‘Yep.’

  Miss Raine raises her eyebrows. ‘You are aware that we have a dress code.’ It’s a statement, not a question.

  I shrug.

  ‘It was stated perfectly clearly on the information sheet that street clothes were not acceptable attire for the audition.’

  ‘I can dance in this stuff. It doesn’t bother me what I wear.’

  ‘Rules are made for a reason. We need to be able to see your bodylines.’

  Miss Raine continues looking at me as if I am something she wiped off her shoe. I glance from her to Patrick and shrug again. I could never handle this place and its multitude of rules.

  ‘Well,’ says Patrick. ‘He’s here now. Let’s see what he can do.’ He adds in a murmur, ‘I remember this kid from the first round. He’s worth watching.’

  Miss Raine sweeps back into the girls’ audition room.

  ‘Come on,’ says Patrick, as if he’s just done me a favour.

  I don’t need favours. I’m not looking for a friend. I just want to audition. And then I want to get out of this place, and never come back.

  My friends wait for me in the long shadow of the grey housing commission flats. Home sweet home. Aaron ollies lazily on his skateboard. Kaylah dances to beats only she can hear –music in her head.

  ‘So how’d the audition go, Cheddar?’ Aaron asks, squinting in my direction.

  ‘You know … same old, same old.’

  ‘Yeah, we know,’ says Kaylah. She looks at Aaron and winks. She prances around me, chest out, speaking in an outrageous French accent. ‘I am sorry, but zee janitor try-outs are next week. What is zis you zay? You are here to dahnce? But you are so rough, so undiscipleeened … so bad.’ She turns to Aaron. ‘You must srow zis bad boy out on zhe street.’

  Aaron laughs. ‘No, wait, Miss Kaylah, I like the way he moves. Let’s see what he can do.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Very funny.’

  Kaylah puts her hands on her cheeks, feigning shock. ‘Zee boy can dahnce!’

  Aaron covers his heart with his hands. ‘He can dance like an angel.’

  ‘Get stuffed.’

  ‘Seriously, though,’ Aaron says. ‘Are you in?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. Of course he’s in,’ Kaylah retorts.

  ‘It’s not like I’m going.’

  Kaylah rolls her eyes. ‘You’re insane.’

  ‘I promised my mum I’d audition, and that’s that. It’s over. Time for the rest of my life.’

  ‘Yeah, Kaylah. Why would he want to leave all this? After all, he has us.’

  Kaylah rolls her eyes. ‘Just so you know,’ she says, ‘if I ever get an opportunity like that, I’m dropping you both. You won’t see me for dust.’

  ‘Noted,’ I tell her. ‘But even if I did want to go, how would I pay for it? Last time I looked, I was a poor, motherless waif, remember?’

  ‘Poor baby,’ Kaylah quips, poking out her tongue. They make a point of never feeling sorry for me. That’s why they’re my best mates.

  ‘About that …’ Aaron kicks his skateboard up and catches it, ‘I’ve got big plans for us. Much bigger than that school for uptight ballerinas.’

  CHAPTER 2

  I leap the metal fence and keep running. When I run I am muscle. I am blood and pulse. Grit and gristle. Whatever’s behind me is dust.

  Aaron leaps up the stairwell, grabs a wall and swings himself up onto the roof. We never discussed a possible route, I never thought it would come to this, but somehow we all know where it is we have to go. Somewhere, I can hear sirens and I know they are for us. But I can run. I can leap. No wall can stop me. I can beat them.

  I surge around the corner, my heart pounding. At the edge of my vision I see Aaron stumble. The rhythm tears away. We fall out of sync. He falls. Joel keeps running, disappearing into the darkness, but I can’t leave a mate behind. Aaron and me, we’ve got each other’s back. Always.

  I grab him and try to pull him up. ‘Get up, get up. Come on.’

  We’re up on our feet again, but we’ve lost the beat, and I already know, even before we turn the corner, before we’re blinded by that flash of blue, before we’re cuffed and flung to the concrete, that it’s too late.
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  There’s nowhere left to run.

  ‘Look Christian, I’m on your side, mate. I need you to work with me. Can I have your mother’s contact number?’ The lawyer sits poised, pen in hand.

  I’ve never told anyone this but I used to call my mother’s number after she died, just to hear her recorded voice. One day the number stopped working, just like that, and her voice disappeared, into the ether.

  ‘She’s dead.’

  ‘I see. And your father …?’

  ‘Not applicable.’

  The lawyer frowns. ‘If there’s nobody who’ll take responsibility for you, you could be in detention for months before you’re placed in a refuge.’

  ‘I’ve got a brother.’

  When she’s convinced I’m talking about a responsible adult–wife, kid, little picket fence–she passes me my mobile.

  ‘Will he vouch for you?’ she asks.

  ‘Of course he will, he’s my brother.’ I dial.

  Come on Drew, pick up. For once in your life, pick up.

  I wish I could turn back the clock, twenty-four hours. I wish I could say, ‘Sorry Aaron, I know I owe you heaps, I know you’ve been there for me through Mum’s death, and Dad and Drew racking off, but I’m busy tonight. Too busy to rob a servo with you, too busy to be your sidekick. Oh and by the way you might want to leave that knife at home.’

  Time keeps clicking forward. ‘There’s no answer.’

  The lawyer sighs. ‘Then you’ll have to stay in juvenile detention.’ I stare a hole into the table. ‘Unless there’s somebody else you can call …?’ she asks.

  As I push the phone back in my bag, I catch sight of a piece of paper. I unfold it. ‘If you’re so sure you don’t want to go, why are you carrying the letter around with you?’ Kaylah asked me the other day.

  The lawyer reads it. I can tell she’s seen it all. She’s not old, but she’s got other people’s troubles worn into the grooves of her face. She reminds me a bit of my mum. Tonight, I’ve managed to surprise her.

  ‘Okay. Well this is something. Let me make some calls.’

  Mr Kennedy doesn’t give the speech about how special I am in the car. I don’t know what to say either, or how to feel. Grateful? Relieved? I feel both of those things, but mostly I feel trapped. We pull up at the National Academy of Dance. The dawn light is golden over the sparkling blue harbour. It makes me squint.

  ‘Most new students are excited to be at the National Academy,’ Mr Kennedy says. So he is going to give me the speech after all?

  ‘It’s probably not one of their bail conditions,’ I say.

  To his credit, he answers, amused, ‘It’s a new situation for both of us.’ Secretly he must be pretty stressed though. What would the teachers think? What about the other kid’s parents–the full fee paying ones–if they knew someone like me was here?

  As I head in, I recognise the girl from the change room coming out the door. I think about how the other kids treated her on the night of the audition –there was a party and her change-room mistake went viral somehow, though I didn’t tell anyone. They were unforgiving and her only crime was naivety. How would they treat me if they knew my crime? The girl nods hello. I ignore her.

  They’d give me hell, and I’d totally deserve it.

  CHAPTER 3

  I go to class, still grainy from lack of sleep. All I want to do is get through the day, the hour, the next ten minutes. Change-room girl–Tara I think her name is–is at the barre, labouring over the basics, for some reason not dancing with the rest of the class. I start stretching. I’m not here to make friends. And who knows how long I’ll be here.

  She snorts through her nose.

  I look at her as if to say what’s your problem?

  ‘You’re seriously pretending I don’t exist? I know you saw me this morning.’

  ‘Sorry?’ In spite of myself, I get drawn in. She’s irresistible, it’s so easy to get a rise out of her. ‘We didn’t hook up or something did we? Because you’re not really my type …’

  ‘No! Audition week, remember?’

  I pretend to think about it.

  ‘You humiliated me because I went to the wrong change rooms …’

  She thinks I told everyone? Annoyance flickers over me. ‘You’re the little girl with the training bra. High-pitched voice, habit of spying on guys in the bathroom. That’s you right?’

  She’s easier to play than the pokies. Her eyes flash with anger. ‘Firstly, look around. We’re in the same class which probably means we’re the same age. Just because someone is on the smaller side of average it’s not okay to make judgments about their underwear. Secondly, I was not spying. Even if I had been spying I wouldn’t have been spying on you. And thirdly–’ the music stops as she leaps up the decibels,’ –my voice isn’t high pitched–’ The whole class laughs.

  I smirk. ‘Yep. It’s all coming back to me.’

  Somehow I manage to fall through the day, without collapsing. Everything has a strange glow to it, I don’t know if it’s lack of sleep, the surreal situation, or just the gleam of other people’s money everywhere. I can’t wait to get a hold of Drew. As soon as I’ve spoken to him, I’m out of here. At least we come from the same place. He knows what it’s like, he’s been in trouble once or twice himself. He might be able to get me a job in the mines. I don’t mind hard work.

  Mr Kennedy accosts me in the corridor. I follow him reluctantly into a practice room.

  ‘Ethan. I want to introduce Christian. He’s just joined us.’

  Ethan nods. ‘Hey.’ It’s the guy from the changing room on audition day, the one Tara was so desperate to impress.

  ‘I’d like him to look to you as a mentor of sorts.’ Mr Kennedy turns to me. ‘Ethan’s in third year. I’m sure he’ll be happy to answer any questions.’

  Mr Kennedy leaves.

  ‘So. What do you want to know?’ Ethan asks me.

  ‘Nothing.’ How do I get to be born lucky like you?

  ‘Look,’ he tells me, ‘forget the mentor thing. It’s a stupid word. Let’s just call it “mates”.’

  ‘I already have “mates”.’

  Just as we’re getting on so well, a blonde prima in the early throes of a drama seizure appears at the doorway. ‘Ethan,’ she says, her voice quivering, ‘can I speak to you please? Alone.’

  He has everything at his fingertips, girls, money, privilege. He’s all full up with how special he is. I glance down at his bag. His wallet is sitting right on top. It’s not like he’d miss a couple of twenties, I tell myself. I could send the money back when I get to Broken Hill, Drew’d lend it to me till I get work. And then … their voices drift in.

  I breathe. I lean down and slip the wallet from the bag. Quickly I open it up and peel off a couple of notes.

  Her voice drifts in. ‘Which part doesn’t feel right? Which part exactly?’

  I’m just about to return the wallet when Ethan comes back. I hide the wallet in my pocket.

  ‘This is gonna take longer than I thought.’ He zips up his bag. ‘Sorry.’ And he walks out.

  I hurry out of the school, my heart pounding as if campus police might leap out en pointe any moment and arrest me. The wallet is an unfamiliar weight in my pocket. I head down to the bus depot. ‘How much for a ticket to Broken Hill?’ I ask the guy behind the counter.

  ‘Um …’ He takes a mouthful of doughnut before looking it up on the computer. He types with one finger, hunt and peck.

  ‘Come on. I’m in a hurry.’ I push a wad of Ethan’s notes over the counter. ‘One way.’

  I get back to campus. No one seems to have noticed I was gone.

  The next morning the hyper girl, Kat, grabs me in the corridor. ‘Kennedy wants you in his office.’

  I wonder if I’m going to get kicked out already. ‘Which is where again?’ I ask.

  ‘I’ll show you.’ She bounces along beside me. You can tell she’s the kind of chick who never walks if she can hop, skip or jump. ‘Hey, so you decided to come
after all? Why the change of heart?’

  ‘Couldn’t think of anywhere better to go.’

  ‘Yeah. Me either.’ Kat grins. ‘Cursed by our own lack of imagination, huh?’

  I nod. I don’t want to like her.

  ‘Just down those stairs. Can’t go wrong.’

  Mr Kennedy’s waiting for me. ‘Sit down, Christian.’

  I sit, drumming my fingers on the desk.

  He pauses. ‘I had a long talk to your lawyer. You’re facing jail time. She believes your only chance is to show the court you’ve turned your life around.’

  ‘Yeah. I know. Something about an apprenticeship or something.’

  ‘What she told me was …’ he peers at his notes. ‘“Proven commitment to training for an elite career in dance would be compelling evidence that Christian would benefit from a non-custodial sentence.” This could be your ticket to freedom.’

  I slip the ticket out of my pocket. ‘Yeah, well. This is my ticket to Broken Hill.’

  I can tell the old man is disappointed. ‘So you got through to your brother, then?’

  ‘I’ve run out of credit. He’ll get my missed calls and call me back.’

  Mr Kennedy slides his phone across the desk. ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘He probably won’t answer a number he doesn’t know,’ I say.

  ‘Worth a shot though, right?’

  I dial. When I hear his voice, my breath catches in my throat.

  ‘Drew! Hey. It’s me.’

  ‘Mate! Robbo?’

  The warmth in his voice catches me off guard. ‘Yeah, no. No. It’s Christian.’

  He sounds … not exactly surprised to hear from me. Wary. ‘Oh right. Christian! What’s going on? Long time no speak.’

  ‘I’m coming to stay for a while,’ I tell him.

  ‘Oh. Whoa, man. Not a good idea,’ he stammers. ‘It’s just, you know. If there’s trouble–’

  ‘I won’t cause any–’

  ‘I’ve got to think of Shell, and little Maxie. They’ve got to come first …’

  ‘I’m great with kids,’ I say.

  ‘Come on, mate. What do you know about–?’

  ‘Well, I’ll learn.’