Leaps & Lies

Chapter Eight

T he best part of being cast as principal by Ellapond is the joyous freedom that comes with dancing her heart out. The worst part is a tie between Kelsey and Mr. Julian.

Where Kelsey is immature and obvious in her dislike for Vivian as she tries to stand directly in front of her in every rehearsal, Mr. Julian’s disdain is more subtle. It comes in the form of his indifferent gaze when she asks a question about choreography. Or his exasperated sighs when her arms don’t float exactly the way he instructed. He’s snippy, short, and all-around impatient.

It makes Vivian want to scream at him. It also makes her stay late after rehearsal, practicing in the hallway after hours or arriving early to give herself extra time to warm up. The opportunity to dance principal after walking off the street is practically unheard of, but she’s willing to do whatever is necessary to keep her role. As much as she wants to throttle him for his attitude and countless snaps and comments of “Again,” she also has a sneaking suspicion that by the time opening night rolls around in November, she’ll be thanking him for pushing her so hard. It’s a double-edged sword.

And she wants to wield it against Kelsey.

At every turn, the younger girl is trying to trip her up—figuratively and literally. She stands in Vivian’s place if Vivian is even a moment late, as though no one will notice if she quietly slips into Vivian’s role. She dances as close to Vivian as possible in rehearsals, mirroring her movements as if simply mimicking her will be enough to convince Ms. Renee to recast the performance. She catches Kelsey whispering with Marie, another of the swings, as they stretch and glare unsubtly at her.

If Kelsey’s constant efforts to undermine her weren’t frustrating enough, she seems to have some . . . connection with Mr. Julian. In her two weeks with Ellapond, Vivian’s already come across the two several times, speaking in quick, hushed tones before rehearsal near the mirror or afterward in the hallway. Vivian wants to say that their behavior doesn’t bother her—Who is she to care what they do in their free time?—but the churning in her stomach and the ache in her chest say otherwise. It’s not obvious what exactly they’re discussing, but the rushed whispers and private huddles point to something . . . untoward.

According to Scarlett, Kelsey is only seventeen. From the meticulous research Vivian did after her private audition, Mr. Julian is in his mid-thirties. It’s not that Vivian wants to cast aspersions on the nature of their secretive whispers. The last thing she holds the moral ground on is someone’s age but . . . but, but, but. Their whispers nag at her, similar to the gnawing sensation in her stomach when rehearsal goes late and she’s run out of snacks.

Despite the frustration Kelsey inspires, fresh choreography, unlimited new pointe shoes, and the prestige of the principal role bloom as bright joy in Vivian’s chest. She’s never had a supply closet full of new shoes and tights. She’s never had the spotlight.

Ellapond is simultaneously exhausting and invigorating. It’s everything she dreamed of and far more than she bargained for.

Vivian’s rehearsals are split between company-wide rehearsals, run by Ms. Renee, and principal duet rehearsals, run by Mr. Julian. Ms. Renee proves to be an austere and aloof instructor. She runs rehearsals from the front of the studio, elegantly perched on a stool or chair with a notebook, surely filled with elegant yet indecipherable notes. Every instruction from her is firm and measuring, as though she’s judging Vivian on something as simple as the warm-up. Despite her sharp eyes that often bore into Vivian as she dances, it’s rare that Ms. Renee makes any clear corrections. Instead, she prefers to tut , snap, clap, or simply shake her head when any movements aren’t performed to her liking. Ms. Paige often serves to demonstrate new choreography to the studio, while Ms. Renee perches on her stool-throne, overseeing the room of her dancers akin to a queen eyeing unruly subjects. Ms. Renee’s aloof demeanor only makes her beauty all the more intimidating. Her clothes are always neat and prim, with understated but expensive-looking jewelry. Her white-blonde hair alternates between a sharp ballet bun and a flawless blowout. Elegance and judgment cement her royal status within the studios of Ellapond.

In contrast to Ms. Renee’s cool and calculating rehearsals, duet rehearsals with Alex and Mr. Julian are both invigorating and infuriating. With his slender frame, Alex makes for a graceful—but perhaps weak—partner. During most duet rehearsals, Vivian is shadowed by Kelsey, whose conniving attempts at tripping Vivian get notably more covert during these times. It’s as if she desperately wants Vivian to lose her role, but she’s smart enough to fall below Mr. Julian’s notice. Unlike Ms. Renee’s quiet judgments, Mr. Julian is vocal and direct with his criticisms.

“What was that? I said entrechat, not a hippopotamus learning to walk!”

“Slow, slow, slowwww. You’re rushing.”

“Are you listening at all, Sugar Plum? I said retiré, not cou-de-pied! Get that leg up.”

“Let’s go again.”

“What are you guys doing? Again.”

Mr. Julian stalks through Studio C, a jungle cat watching its pride. He examines them from every angle, quick to remind them, “You can do better than that.”

Slightly over one week into Vivian’s rehearsal schedule, she works up the courage to address him. They haven’t spoken privately since their less than ideal parking lot meet-cute, and she’s eager to dispel the lingering tension. Maybe if she clears the air, he’ll stop eyeing her legs as if he’s planning murder. She lingers by the barre as Alex and Kelsey pack up, stuffing shoes into their respective bags and digging out street clothes to wear home.

“Mr. Julian, do you have a minute?”

He peers at her from under the brim of his ball cap, dark curls peeking out over his ears. His eyes remind Vivian of spring rainstorms, bright golden sunbeams sparkling on damp fresh grass. His gaze is intoxicating. If Vivian didn’t want to clear the air between them, she’d be tempted to continue staring into them as if she’s a young girl with her first crush.

“Just Julian is fine.”

“Okay, Just Julian,” Vivian says, trying for a joke.

He doesn’t laugh. So much for that.

“I wanted to clear the air after our . . . less than ideal meeting.”

“You mean, after you fell out of a car in broad daylight? Were you drunk? Were you sleeping in your car?”

His expression is calm and neutral. Indignation bubbles up in Vivian all the same.

“I was neither drunk nor sleeping in my car! If you must know, the door handle broke off when I was getting in. So I had to use the backseat.”

It’s a perfectly reasonable explanation of a perfectly normal problem.

“The handle inside the car broke?”

“No, the handle of the driver’s door on the outside.”

“And so it didn’t open from the inside?”

Oh. Oh.

Vivian is an idiot. But Mr. Julian—no, Julian —doesn’t need to know that.

“Correct,” she lies. “The driver’s door isn’t working correctly.” There, that wasn’t technically a lie.

Her first paycheck hasn’t arrived from Ellapond yet. But once it does, everything not set aside for rent and groceries will go to buying enough duct tape to reattach the handle.

“Okay. Maybe get that fixed, Sugar Plum. Or don’t. As long as you make it to rehearsal, I don’t care how you get here,” he says with a dismissive nod. His attention has strayed to something over her shoulder. Frustration burns in her belly and the nickname brings a heat to her cheeks. Vivian’s embarrassed and improbably turned on. This isn’t the professional reconciliation she intended.

“Yeah. That’s not a problem. But I wanted to—”

“Mr. Julian, can I speak with you? Privately ,” a singsong voice interrupts.

Kelsey appears at Vivian’s side, unraveling her chestnut hair from its bun. Her impossibly long and shiny mane falls over her shoulders, and she fluffs it while gazing up at Julian expectantly. She doesn’t even glance at Vivian.

Julian stares at Vivian and his jaw tightens a tick. Vivian has no idea what it means. Is he annoyed by Kelsey’s interruption, or is he irritated with Vivian for delaying them from another secretive chat?

“Are we done here, Ladoe.”

He says the words flatly, making it clear that it’s not a question, so Vivian nods.

“Yes. Thank you for your time, Mr. Julian.”

He winces, then he turns to Kelsey without another word.