Kat: Breaking Pointe Read online

  ‘Jane Lawrence told me you were on exchange from Tasmania.’

  I blink.

  ‘Girl school stuff,’ shrugs Darcy. (Or is it Marysa?) ‘Gossip is like currency.’

  ‘So you can dance?’ Trilby demands.

  ‘Yeah. I mean – no.’

  ‘What do you mean, no? Dance for us, monkey!’

  ‘I would, but I’ve sort of retired.’

  ‘We thought you were like Lexie, only more boring. But you could help us beat her,’ Trilby says.

  ‘You don’t know that,’ Elke replies. ‘She said she was kicked out.’

  ‘I did. Which is why I don’t dance anymore and I definitely don’t choreograph.’ But they all continued to stare hopefully at me. Even Elke, and I knew it would hurt her to give up creative control. ‘But I guess I do have some connections,’ I offer.

  With my new best friends in tow, or at least my brand new acquaintances-who-don’t-hate-me, I spy Sammy, Tara and Christian in one of the practice rooms.

  ‘Wait here,’ I tell Elke. ‘I’ll be right back.’

  Sammy is happy to see me and sweeps me up in a hug. I know he misses me, especially with Tara and Christian being so, well, Tara-and-Christian. I feel a bit bad for neglecting Sammy, but I’m here now, aren’t I?

  ‘World of ballet, kindly collide with the real world,’ I say, by way of introduction and the other girls come in.

  ‘Hi,’ says Trilby.

  Elke looks at Sammy shyly. ‘We’re here for a dance lesson.’

  The girls actually make good progress and Gaia’s Vengeance becomes something we’re doing instead of something that’s being done to us.

  Tara helps me with the choreography and I get a kick out of dancing with her. Without pressure from Tash or Miss Raine, I relax and let myself enjoy it.

  I’m still buzzing with ideas during dinner and when Tash suggests the whole family go out for ice-cream afterwards I’m actually enthusiastic. We cross the road from the ice-cream shop and walk into the park, settling down on a long wooden bench.

  We almost look like a normal, happy family unit, except for Sebastian and Ethan glowering at each other. At first I’d thought that Ethan was still moping after Tara, since she’d got back together with Christian, but there is more to it than that. It has to do with Dad being Ethan’s arch-nemesis, but I suspect there is deeper existential angst going on, too.

  ‘How are your dance – I mean, movement and music rehearsals going, Kat?’ Tash asks me.

  I tell her about taking the girls to the Academy for a lesson with Sammy, Tara and Christian. ‘At first I thought it was hopeless. The girls were so awkward and self-conscious. But we are finally getting a little bit of rhythm. They seem to be listening to the music instead of miming to Elke’s poetry.’

  ‘It sounds very nice,’ Natasha says.

  ‘Nice?’ I roll my eyes. ‘Typical. If my thing was a performance at the National Academy you would be all over it. You’d turn up with photographers to record yourself watching me dance.’

  Tash pouts.

  ‘Come on, Kat,’ Sebastian says. ‘You’re being unreasonable. We can’t just guess when things are important to you.’

  ‘Dad, she’s not asking you to guess,’ Ethan snaps. ‘She’s asking you to take an interest.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I say to Ethan.

  ‘Except, when I take an interest, I’m being patronising,’ Tash complains. ‘And if I don’t fall all over you, I’m the worst mother in the world!’

  ‘Why do you have to be the worst?’ I ask. ‘Or the best? I just want you to be normal.’

  ‘I am being normal. We’re having an after dinner, family activity. This is my best attempt at being normal.’

  I do get that she’s trying. She’s taking an interest. Or faking an interest. But it still hurts. Why is it so hard for her to find me interesting?

  CHAPTER 5

  On the day of our drama performance I have butterflies. Actual butterflies. Elke and Trilby are so jittery and nervy that I think they might combust during recess. ‘Cupcake anyone?’ I offer. I’ve eaten two already. I always eat when I’m nervous.

  Elke shakes her head. ‘I feel sick,’ she says.

  ‘I thought you ballet types lived on carrot sticks,’ Trilby says.

  I take the wrapper off my third cupcake. ‘That’s why they kicked me out of the Academy,’ I say.

  ‘Really?’ asks Elke, eyes wide.

  Trilby shakes her head. ‘Don’t get her started on body issues. She used to sneak into Toy Heaven to mutilate Barbie dolls.’

  Lexie’s group goes first. They’re wearing tiny denim shorts and halter tops, showing a lot of skin. I try not to laugh when the music starts. How many times have I had to listen to that song? It’s haunting me.

  ‘Myles Kelly!’ Elke whispers to me. ‘How low can you go?’

  ‘You’d be surprised,’ I answer.

  The choreography of Lexie’s number is familiar, a lot of it is taken from the film clip I helped Myles make – it’s my choreography. It doesn’t tell a story, which was part of Fawsie’s brief, and it makes me cringe inwardly to think that I have helped contribute this to the world. It strikes me that, in this moment, I actually feel prouder of Gaia’s Vengeance than I do of the work I did with Myles.

  ‘Thank you, girls. I’m sure there was a story in there somewhere. Elke’s group, you’re up.’

  We’re taking our places when there’s a sudden resounding clack, clack, clack, the sound of high heels echoing on the drama room’s floor.

  ‘Darling, am I on time?’

  ‘Tell me that’s not your mother,’ Trilby mutters.

  ‘Worse,’ I moan. ‘It’s her android replacement, programmed to humiliate me.’

  Natasha kisses my cheeks and sits down with Fawsie, but not before passing on Sebastian’s sincerest apologies. Nobody else’s parents are here. It’s mortifying.

  ‘Kill me now,’ I beg Trilby.

  But we get up and perform anyway. I know that it’s all very high-school drama class, the kind of thing we might have made fun of at the Academy, but Elke’s words touch something in me, my own recorded voice speaking them: ‘Crack! Crack! The ice shelf of the Arctic. Icebergs break free.’

  I can’t tell what Natasha is thinking. Maybe she hates it. But I let myself feel instead the tensile stretch of our bodies and the breaking heart of the planet – the planet that we are inheriting from our parents, that they haven’t cared for properly. Or whatever.

  ‘Drifting, drifting. Melting as they go.’

  And I feel like I know what it’s like, splintering from the continent, alone and in peril.

  Ms Fawsie gets to her feet and applauds. ‘Fantastic! That is possibly the finest music and movement piece I’ve seen in any of my classes.’

  Lexie and her friends sneer and roll their eyes, but Lexie looks at Elke the way Abigail looks at Tara – annoyed, a little intimidated. I’d like to enjoy the victory but one look at my mother’s fixed smile and my stomach drops. Okay, so it wasn’t ballet. But why can’t she just like it anyway? Just for what it is?

  I walk her back to her car.

  ‘You did a great job with the choreography,’ Tash says, patronisingly.

  ‘Mum, don’t.’

  ‘What?’ Then, she adds in a more truthful tone, ‘It was surprisingly good.’

  ‘Yeah. For an amateur performance by first-time dancers in a school exercise.’

  ‘Well, there are some excellent dance classes in the city, if you – ’

  ‘Mum. Again, don’t.’

  ‘I’m trying to work out what you want, Katrina. Please believe me.’

  ‘I know,’ I take a breath and think about how to explain it to her, how to explain it to myself. ‘Last year, it was like I broke up with ballet. Or maybe ballet broke up with me. And I didn’t think it would hurt so much. But it did.’

  ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘It was my fault. And I don’t want to get back together,’ I t
ell Tash firmly. ‘But I think I need to miss it for a while.’

  ‘If it helps, I miss it too.’

  I wasn’t sure if it did help, Tash’s hiatus was temporary, right? Ballet was ready and waiting when she returned. But at least she was really listening to me, at least she was trying to empathise. I felt for once she was actually considering the possibility I might not be just another whirling, twirling Karamakov. That I might be something else entirely. Whatever that might be.

  Elke, Trilby, Marysa and Darcy catch me at the school gate after school.

  ‘Thanks again, new girl,’ Trilby says.

  ‘Yeah,’ Elke says. ‘Thanks, Kat.’ Elke hesitates as if she is going to say something else.

  ‘Come on,’ says Darcy. ‘We’ll be late.’

  ‘Anthea Star is signing copies of her Indie comics, down at Dog Day Afternoon,’ Trilby explains.

  I nod, mystified. Anthea who? Dog where?

  Elke shrugs. ‘See ya, Kat.’

  They walk off in a gang.

  ‘Unless …’ Trilby turns around. ‘You want to come?’

  I shake my head. ‘I’ve got a thing. But thanks.’

  I watch them walk away. For a moment I wonder if I should have gone with them, made an effort to fit in. I turn and walk in the other direction, towards the park that overlooks the harbour. It’s a gorgeous afternoon. The sweetness of the air floods through me. It’s not a day for being in a musty old bookstore.

  As I join Tara, Christian and Sammy amid the throng of second years, I realise the toughest thing about being kicked out of the Academy wasn’t that I didn’t fit in. It was how much I did fit.

  ‘Aren’t you the one who got rejected last year?’ a new boy asks. Christian and Sammy blanch.

  But I don’t mind. I appreciate his frankness. ‘The very same,’ I say brightly. ‘You are … Ben?’

  ‘Call me Benster.’

  ‘Hmm …’ I think about this. ‘No one gets to pick their own nickname.’

  He beams. ‘She’s awesome. She should be a part of our gang.’

  I grin at Tara, Christian and Sammy. ‘Can I be a part of your gang?’ I ask.

  I might not have found my place yet at school number eighteen. But I know who I do fit with. And that’s enough for now.

  CHAPTER 6

  I come home one day to find Ethan packing. And not just a backpack of clothes. He’s wrapping the TV from his bedroom in a towel. His bed is gone. All his books and DVDs are boxed up. His room is bare.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I say. And then, ‘Oh. Right.’

  ‘Kat, it had to happen sometime. I’ve finished school. I need to – ’

  ‘Whatever. You don’t have to explain. I’d be out of here too if I was old enough.’ I go into my room and fling my schoolbag on the floor. I lie down on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. Just when I think things are looking up, everything changes again.

  Ethan taps on my door. ‘Give me a hand? I’m almost done.’

  We carry boxes out and he packs the car, tying his mattress to the roof rack. Finally, I carry his last suitcase to the door.

  ‘So you’re ditching me for some boy house in Bondi?’ I ask, trying to keep my voice light. ‘Where nobody ever cleans the toilet?’

  Ethan looks apologetic. ‘Everything I have comes from him – my job, my car, this house. He’s not going to respect me if I don’t do something on my own. I’m not going to respect myself.’

  ‘You know, for a moment I thought things were looking up around here. Maybe our family isn’t meant to be adorable.’

  ‘You and me?’ Ethan says. ‘Always.’

  It’s the beginning of the end. I find Tash and Sebastian in the kitchen a few days later. I wave a B paper in their faces. Well, B minus. They are deep in conversation – probably talking about Ethan again – but I am on a high from my spectacular mediocrity.

  ‘Behold, parentals! B minus. I believe the word is unprecedented.’

  ‘See how well she’s doing,’ Natasha tells Sebastian.

  Something in her tone rings warning bells. They’re talking about me? ‘Technically it’s still the middle of the bell curve,’ I say. ‘What’s up?’

  Sebastian drops the bombshell. ‘I’ve been invited to Berlin to do my version of Firebird. With your mother as principal.’

  I should have known it couldn’t last. ‘Congrats guys. That’s exactly two months we’ve managed to be a regular, stable family.’

  ‘Which is why we’re all going to be part of this decision,’ Tash says.

  Sebastian makes his appeal. ‘Remember how you loved Berlin when you were ten,’ he tells me.

  ‘I was eight. I got adult chickenpox.’

  ‘The schools there have outstanding arts programs,’ he offers.

  ‘Wonderful. Can they papier-mâché me some replacement friends?’ I can tell Sebastian’s made up his mind. Tash might string it out a little longer but in the end the best I can hope for is to gain some control of the situation. ‘It’s fine. Go. Flit. I’ll stay with Ethan.’

  ‘Not while you’re in school and only sixteen,’ says Tash.

  Sebastian makes it clear: ‘It’s Berlin or boarding.’

  Tash takes a breath. ‘Or … I stay here.’

  I roll my eyes. Tash is really laying it on thick with the martyr act.

  ‘I really appreciate this attempt at democracy, but I think the UN might declare it a sham.’

  The smell of the Academy hits me as soon as I walk through the front door, a mix of floor polish and dance sweat. It makes me nostalgic for a moment. Yes, briefly I am homesick for sweat smell. Must be Ethan moving out.

  I find Sammy and Ben looking super-cute in top hats and waistcoats and tap shoes, rehearsing for Showcase. I stand at the door unnoticed, eavesdropping.

  ‘It’s steampunk,’ says Ben to a dubious Sammy.

  ‘You keep saying that word,’ complains Sammy. ‘But it doesn’t make any sense.’

  Sammy might be geek-smart, but when it comes to pop culture I’m the savant. I explain: ‘Retro styling mostly influenced by the fashion of the steam age, but with a futuristic twist. Kind of like Sherlock Holmes meets Astro Boy.’

  They turn to me. ‘And I think we’ve found our damsel in distress,’ Ben says.

  ‘Didn’t you hear, Ben?’ I quip. ‘We damsels don’t do distress anymore.’ But I already know I am going to say yes. I pick up a corset. ‘I’m going to try this on, but I’m not promising anything.’

  Rehearsing for Showcase is a blast. It’s almost like being a kid again, playing dress-ups, tap-dancing, just letting myself go with the flow without anyone shouting at me to watch my port de bras or criticising my alignment. Ben is great to work with. He’s good – light and playful, a natural. He doesn’t take himself too seriously. Sammy’s tougher on himself and all his extra shifts at the café are taking their toll, but Ben keeps things easy and fun and when Sammy looks like dropping off to sleep, we tap-dance him awake again.

  When Sammy goes to work, I track down Tara. I just can’t face going home to my parents’ dodgy parenting manoeuvres. She’s sitting on her bedroom floor, listening to music. I grab an earbud out of her ear and listen.

  ‘Seriously? Hip-hop?’

  ‘I need to be more street.’

  ‘T, you’re country lane. Winding road at best. Street? Never.’

  Tara pulls the other earbud out of her ear. ‘Kaylah’s street.’

  ‘Christian’s Kaylah? You’ve got nothing to worry about there.’

  ‘I’m not. It’s just, she knows him. She knew his mum. His brother. That stuff counts.’ She pouts. ‘And she thinks I’m a loser.’

  ‘She’s probably just jealous. She has the history. But you have the present,’ I assure Tara. ‘And the future.’ I push down a twinge of pain as I say it. As hard as I try, I can’t stem the tide of feelings I have for Christian. Not that I would ever do anything about it. I would never hurt Tara like that.

  I go home the next morning to showe
r and change before Showcase. Tash is packing.

  ‘Where were you last night?’ Motherbot asks. ‘And what have I told you about keeping your phone on?’

  ‘You’d be completely justified asking that if you weren’t packing for overseas. Slightly undermines the whole nurturing mother thing.’

  Tash sniffs. ‘These aren’t going overseas. I’m putting them in storage. I’ve decided to retire before the offers start drying up.’

  And the Oscar goes to … I think. ‘There’ll be others, Mum,’ I say.

  ‘At my age, once you turn something down people start smelling blood. And, besides, it’s time.’

  I can’t believe she’s serious about this. ‘You need four encores and a bouquet before you leave the stage. Natasha Willis doesn’t retire.’

  ‘It happens to every dancer. I’ve been lucky to hold it off for so long.’ She starts folding again. ‘Stop trying to change my mind.’

  ‘I wasn’t,’ I say, quickly.

  ‘Good, because I have a new role I’ve committed to. I’m staying here with you.’

  The atmosphere backstage at Showcase is electric. I’ve missed this, the smell of oil-based foundation make-up, the flurry of costumes. That sense of belonging, the nervous energy that pulses through all the performers. The way time stretches before you go on, and then speeds up while you’re dancing and it’s over before you know it. The way your body listens and responds to the music, the way everything comes together, the giddy joy of knowing your choreography inside out, of dancing in time, of telling a story to a crowd that leans in and drinks it up.

  The applause. I admit it. I’ve missed the applause. A room full of thunder, all for you.

  Tash is waiting for me backstage. Why can’t she watch from the audience like normal mothers? But I’m on a high and for once I don’t care.

  ‘Darling, you were wonderful!’ This time I know she’s not being patronising. Her praise is effusive, genuine.

  ‘It was a bit wonderful, wasn’t it? I’d forgotten what that was like.’ Suddenly it hits me. This is what she’s giving up. For me. ‘You have to go to Berlin.’