Christian Page 3

  When I get to the room I can hear Tara giving a cheerleading pep talk, some variation of Kennedy’s ‘you’re special, I’m special’ speech. Except it’s more along the lines of ‘I’m crap, you’re crap’. Yet somehow still rousing.

  I’m about to break up their pity party when I hear my name.

  ‘Don’t be like Christian,’ Tara is saying. ‘That guy, he’s got talent dripping from his toenails, but he’s too gutless to do anything with it.’

  I take it in. For the first time, I think about Sammy, and the pressure from his dad. And Kat’s family issues. I think about how hard Tara’s working to earn her pointe shoes and prove her worth to Miss Raine. And for the first time I think how lucky I am, that there’s no one to disappoint but myself.

  I leave Sammy to his packing, or unpacking, or whatever he’s doing and head back to the practice room.

  I try again and again to nail the pirouette a la seconde, without losing my balance. Damn it.

  Patrick enters the room. If he’s surprised to see me in here, it doesn’t show. ‘Don’t mind me.’ He picks up his water bottle and goes to leave.

  ‘Hey.’

  Patrick stops. ‘Yes?’

  I grit my teeth. ‘I could use some help here.’

  CHAPTER 6

  It’s not all bad at the Academy. There’s something relaxing about having a routine and always knowing where you’re expected to be. But it’s still a cage, even if it is a gilded one.

  I stay under the radar. I’m not looking for BFFs. I don’t want to shine. I don’t want to be special. I just want to –excuse the pun –skate through.

  Which is what I’m doing, skating, when Ethan approaches me down by the wharf for some extracurricular hip-hop. I blow him off. It’s obvious that people don’t say no to him very often. He’s thrown for a moment.

  I jump on my board.

  Should have known that no wasn’t an option. Ethan owns this school, and everything in it, including me. ‘Hey, I didn’t say you could leave. I could have told Kennedy about the wallet,’ he reminds me. ‘You owe me.’

  Ethan runs through the plot. ‘We’re in the middle of a turf war. And one of the gang leaders –that’s you– has a thing for a girl in the other gang –that’s Belle.’

  I smirk. All that’s missing is the bling.

  Ethan keeps talking. ‘She’s dancing in a club when he sees her, likes her moves.’

  Isabelle busts her moves and I swallow a laugh. She may be prima of the year, but no self-respecting ‘brutha’ is going to be disrespecting his ‘homeys’ because he sees Isabelle plié.

  ‘And so he dances with her and in the club they’re hot, but they can never be together because of the gang war.’ Ethan pulls Isabelle towards him and says, ‘This night is all they have.’ They freeze, then gaze at me, loving themselves sick.

  I shake my head. ‘I can’t do that.’

  Ethan frowns. ‘Sure you can. I’ve seen you dance.’

  ‘Correction. I don’t want to do that. It’s crap.’

  Ethan’s obviously been raised on a white bread diet of positive reinforcement. ‘What’s wrong with it?’

  ‘Turf war? Dance off in a club? When does that happen? And no offence Isabelle but you sure ain’t got no booty.’

  ‘I should hope not,’ she snaps.

  ‘It’s like some bad LA wannabe rip off.’

  ‘That’s hip-hop,’ Ethan says. I can’t tell if he’s sneering or serious. Either way, it’s clear he doesn’t know anything about street dancing. It’s time to teach these brats something about the real world.

  I haven’t been back to the neighbourhood since I started at the Academy. And I never thought that when I did come it would be with Ethan, of all people, in tow. I bet he’s never been anywhere this real in his life.

  ‘After this we’re square,’ I tell him. ‘I owe you nothing.’

  I look around for Aaron. I’m not sure if I want to see him or not. There’s no sign of him. Tweak’s up, with Tiny and Clay. And Kaylah’s there too –it’s good to see her. Ethan pulls out his camera and starts filming.

  Kaylah waves and grins. ‘Hey, ballet boy.’

  ‘Who’s that?’ Ethan asks.

  ‘She’s the one you should be watching.’

  Tweak pulls out and Kaylah steps in, and starts dancing. She could dance most of those prissy ballerinas right off the stage, and she’s not stressing herself into knots about it like Abigail or Tara.

  ‘You’re up,’ she tells me, tagging me in.

  I dance and for the first time in ages, it feels good just to be moving, not to have anyone demanding more of me than I want to give. These guys know who I am. I lose myself in the beats, forget why I’m here. It’s just good to be home.

  Then I see Ethan chatting up Kaylah, trying out his smooth moves. They might make him a hero at the Academy, but out here … Tweak has stopped dancing to glare at Ethan. Saying Tweak’s kind of unstable is like saying a table kind of has four legs. Before Ethan can get himself killed, I grab him by the scruff of his jacket. ‘Come on let’s go.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We’re done here.’

  ‘Maybe we can catch up sometime?’ Ethan throws back to Kaylah as I pull him away. He doesn’t seem to have noticed that Tweak’s brewing some violence.

  I drag Ethan around the corner. ‘Not a good idea.’

  ‘She’s cute.’

  ‘What about Isabelle?’

  ‘Belle and I broke up. Besides,’ Ethan grins, throwing my own lame joke back at me, ‘Kaylah’s got booty.’

  I shake my head. ‘Wait there a minute, will you?’ I tell him.

  ‘Why? Where are you going?’

  ‘And don’t talk to anyone.’ I jog back to Kaylah. ‘Hey. You seen Aaron?’

  She shakes her head. ‘Nah. He hasn’t been around much, not since … you know. I heard he’s been hanging out with the Longleys.’

  ‘You’re kidding. Those losers?’

  She gives me a sweet, sad smile. ‘He misses you. Sounds like you’ve got a pretty sweet set up.’

  ‘Yeah, well. It’s not like I had a choice.’

  ‘Don’t be too hard on Aaron. It hasn’t been easy for him. His gran’s threatening to kick him out on his ear.’ She looks over to where Ethan is waiting for me, filming the tops of the apartment buildings. He waves. ‘Who is that guy?’

  ‘No one. He’s a third year.’

  ‘Are they all like him?’

  ‘Pretty much.’ I look around. ‘I never realised how much I’d miss this place.’

  ‘Get lost, ballet boy,’ she says, affectionately. ‘Run back to your fancy school and dance like crazy. For me.’

  The excursion energises Ethan. I sort through his music, while he watches and rewatches the video he made of Kaylah dancing.

  I flick through the CDs. ‘Is this your mum’s collection?’

  ‘You can’t insult me, I’m not listening.’

  I find an untitled one, put it on. ‘What’s this?’ I ask him, hearing the low melancholy drag of a cello answered by a gypsy violin.

  ‘Carmen’s Habanera,’ Ethan answers distractedly. ‘It’s about unrequited love.’ He glances over at me as I step out a few moves.

  ‘Now that’s awesome,’ I say, and a light goes on in Ethan’s face.

  After the rehearsal with Ethan and Isabelle, I’m buzzing. I just want to keep dancing. We’re onto something, mixing his tunes with my beats, making something new, something fresh, out of something old.

  I find an empty studio and practise the barrel turns. I admit, to myself, Isabelle can be hard to keep up with. Abigail barges in, breaking my focus.

  ‘I booked this studio.’

  ‘I’ll just be a couple of minutes.’

  ‘There is a reservation form you know.’ Everyone here is so anal about rules, but no one is more anal than Abigail.

  I try to block her out but she makes it clear she’s not going anywhere.

  ‘Being good at hip-hop is neve
r going to make you a better ballet dancer,’ she sneers.

  ‘Yeah? And what makes you think that’s what I want?’

  ‘So why are you here? It’s Sunday. Who are you trying to impress?’

  I pick up my bag. ‘No one. The studio’s yours.’

  The sky is the same washed out grey-blue as the sea. There is something about the blurred horizon, that endlessness, that soothes me.

  As I run into the water, into that huge white noise generator, surfboard under my arm, I feel the whole Academy disappear. Ethan, Isabelle, Abigail … everything gets churned up into the white foam of the Pacific Ocean and dragged far out to the blank line of the horizon, while I am tossed and blown in the huge swell of the surf.

  When I get back from the beach, Isabelle meets me outside. She’s furious, ranting about how I let Ethan down. I try to brush her off until I realise mid-rant that she’s telling me that Ethan has gone looking for Kaylah, to ask her to dance in my place.

  I groan. I think back to Ethan’s story about the gangster and his girlfriend. Real life doesn’t come with a soundtrack. Tweak isn’t going to challenge him to a dance duel. Tweak is going to beat the crap out of him.

  Not my problem. Right?

  But Ethan wouldn’t even be there if it wasn’t for me. A stream of four-letter words go through my head, every one I’ve ever heard, and when you grow up where I did, you have a lot to choose from. I take off at a run.

  By the time I arrive on the scene, Ethan’s already talked himself into trouble, and I can see he won’t be able to talk himself out of it. Kaylah flashes me a look; she wants me to end this. I step in and grab Ethan’s arm.

  ‘Okay, we’re gone.’

  But Tweak’s not letting up. ‘So I’m a fake, am I?’

  Ethan flexes. ‘Total. Hip-hop. Wannabe.’

  It’s on.

  I’ve been rolling with some of these guys since primary school, but somehow we all know whose side I’m on. I’ve got Ethan’s back and he’s got mine. He takes his punches like a man, and there are a few punches to take. I guess you don’t get this far at the Academy if you can’t deal with pain. In the middle of the scuffle, he looks at me, I look at him, and for some reason we both laugh. Ethan kind of rolls sideways out of the throng and I help him to his feet. We half walk, half jog to the Academy. We even make it back in time for me to dance his choreography.

  I pump through Ethan’s steps, still fired up from the fight, barely aware of the bruises on my body, getting my energy from the music and Isabelle and the audience. And for now it feels good to belong here, to be completely present, a part of things.

  CHAPTER 7

  Most mornings, Ethan joins me on my run. Sammy and I get better at sharing our space. Patrick and I come to an understanding. Even Tara and I are getting somewhere. We’re learning to trust each other more when we dance, to communicate with movement and touch instead of words. Tara’s stubborn determination in the face of Miss Raine’s constant criticism is kind of inspiring. I’ve never had a relationship with a partner like this before. I mean, a dance partner–it’s just dancing. But I find myself looking forward to pas de deux.

  I have a groove here. It’s not deep, but it’s mine. It’s like everyone, including me, has forgotten that I don’t belong.

  Until Aaron shows up. One day there he is, outside Patrick’s classroom, sashaying in the hallway.

  ‘Friend of yours?’ Patrick asks, annoyance flashing over his face.

  ‘Never seen him before.’

  After class, I find Aaron outside, lazily chatting up Kat. A moment of unease washes over me. It was weird enough taking Ethan to the flats. This is weirder –having such a vivid part of my old life appear at the Academy. It’s like he’s been photoshopped in. He doesn’t quite blend.

  I take a breath. ‘Aaron!’

  ‘Cheddar!’

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Visiting you apparently,’ Kat says. ‘Although you guys don’t really look like brothers.’

  ‘He’s closer than a brother,’ I tell Kat.

  ‘Well, Aaron. Cheddar. Leaving you to your man love,’ Kat says.

  When she’s gone I look at Aaron.

  ‘So, what are you doing here?’

  ‘Gran kicked me out. Said she’s had a gutful of me wasting my life.’ That was pretty serious, coming from Aaron’s gran. Aaron was always in and out of trouble, but he could always sweet-talk her.

  ‘Heard you’ve been hanging out with the Longleys,’ I grunt.

  ‘Don’t believe everything you hear.’

  ‘Dude, I thought you were smarter than that.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.’ He changes the subject. ‘So you going to let me sleep on the streets, or what?’

  Aaron makes himself at home. In the common room he racks up the balls, and passes Sammy a cue. He’s always been like that, the kind of guy who slots in anywhere. If we got on a train he’d have to sit down next to a group of private school kids –boys or girls –and chat to them, always friendly, but there was an edge to it, like there was some invisible power play going on.

  When he sees Tara walk in to the room, he raises his eyebrows.

  ‘No way, dude. Lucy Gladewright. Dead ringer.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘This guy had the biggest crush on Lucy Gladewright.’ I go over and try to cover his mouth.

  ‘No I didn’t.’

  He twists away from me. ‘He was ten years old and he thought they were gonna get married.’

  Kat and Aaron rib me –‘Are you blushing?’ –while Tara refuses to meet my eyes.

  I leave Aaron hanging out with Sammy, Tara and Kat while I go and find some extra blankets. I walk back up the hallway and hear Tara’s voice ring out.

  ‘Christian robbed a service station?’

  No.

  Her eyes meet mine through the slatted blinds. And I swear to god, it’s Lucy Gladewright looking at me through those eyes, as if she’d just discovered me kicking a puppy.

  I interrupt the conversation. ‘Um, it’s getting late. So …’

  Sammy, who knows me better than the others, picks up on the vibe and mumbles something about homework, dragging Kat and Tara with him.

  ‘You hadn’t told them,’ Aaron says. Master of observation.

  ‘No kidding.’

  Aaron grabs his skateboard. ‘I’m going to get some air.’

  When Aaron doesn’t come back, I go outside to find him. It’s dark and chilly down by the harbour.

  ‘You know I have a big mouth,’ he says. ‘It’s always getting me into trouble.’

  ‘I didn’t tell them for a reason.’

  He shrugs. ‘I thought they were your friends. Why would they care?’

  ‘You don’t get this place.’

  ‘It’s only temporary, right?’ he says.

  ‘Yeah, sure.’

  ‘Good. Cause once the whole court thing is over I reckon we head straight for Indonesia. We’ve been talking about it long enough.’

  I can’t believe he can be casual about this. ‘And what if we go to jail?’

  ‘Why so negative? A couple of months in ballet land, a quick hello to the judge and then we’re out of here. Bo’s got a mate with a charter boat.’

  ‘Bo Longley’s got a mate now, does he?’

  ‘Yeah. We can cruise the islands and surf all day. Live the dream.’

  I almost believe him.

  That night when he thinks I’m sleeping, he sneaks out. I look at the empty bed, and toss and turn for a while. Eventually I tread softly downstairs to wait for him. He staggers in, clutching his side.

  ‘Mate, you almost gave me a heart attack,’ he says when he sees me. He tells me some bull story about stacking his skateboard. I know he’s lying. But I get him some ice and take him upstairs.

  The next morning I walk in on Kat, Ethan, Tara, Sammy and Abigail. They go quiet and nervous as soon as they see me. Except Abigail.

  ‘Your friend took Kat’s
camera,’ Abigail informs me. So that’s what they’ve been talking about.

  ‘It’s missing,’ Sammy jumps in. ‘Could just be a coincidence.’

  ‘We’re not saying he stole it,’ Tara says.

  ‘Don’t hear you saying he didn’t,’ I snap. I don’t know what to think.

  I go looking for Aaron. He’s offering a group of second year girls skateboarding lessons, and it’s that same vibe, like he wants to prove something to them about his superiority, his power.

  I ask him about the camera.

  He shakes his head. ‘You’ve really lost it, Ched. Those rich kids have done your head in.’

  ‘So? Where did you go last night?’

  He sneers. ‘I snuck into Kat’s bedroom to grab her little dinky camera. Where’d you think I was?’

  I feel stupid for even bringing up the camera, when what I’d wanted to ask all along was what he’d been doing. Aaron backs off, shaking his head. ‘I don’t need this.’ He kicks off on his skateboard, and rolls away.

  CHAPTER 8

  The word’s out that I’m some kind of criminal. Kids whisper about it in the halls, or the morons like Sean say it straight to my face. Kat, Sammy and Ethan are awkward. Tara won’t meet my eyes. I was crazy to think I could keep anything a secret in this place. I was crazy to think I could belong.

  When I get to class I can’t stand the stiffness anymore, the hushed tones. I walk up to Kat. ‘Aaron’s gone,’ I tell her. ‘He said he didn’t take your camera but I’ll get you a new one.’

  Miss Raine walks in. ‘Mr Lieberman, Mr Reed, you’ve misplaced your partners?’

  ‘No, they’re coming, I think they’re just late,’ Sammy says.

  ‘How observant.’ She looks from Sammy to me and crosses her arms. ‘Shall we begin?’

  ‘Without our partners?’

  ‘Mr Lieberman, meet Mr Reed.’

  Sammy sidles up next to me. ‘So, um, who’s going to be the girl?’