Spiral (Off the Ice, #2) (79)
The rest of our evening is spent watching the second game of the finals with panda face masks and Sage in my lap lulled into sleep by the sound of the reporters and my hands playing with her hair. It’s chaotic, yet she appears peaceful. At this moment, I’m sure that even this damn injury is worth it if this is how I get to spend my nights. Even if it’s just for now.
THIRTY-FOUR
SAGE
IS PROJECTILE VOMITING on the director of Nova Ballet Theatre considered unprofessional? I hope not, because my stomach twists into a knot when I get to center stage and see three very prominent faces of ballet in the auditorium seats with their eyes on me.
These last few weeks have been more taxing than the time I danced in The Nutcracker for four straight shows. Elias has been recovering from his injuries and watching games from home with a grumpy frown. However, when I come home to more baked goods and he persuades me to try them, the smile on his face is the widest I’ve seen in weeks. It didn’t last, though, because after Thunder beat Boston in the Eastern Conference Finals they lost three out of five games, which means if they lose tomorrow, it’s all over. Since Elias has been given approval to train today, he’ll likely get to play, so the pressure is on. He said I’d make a great nurse because I was very strict about helping him heal. I refused whenever he tried to lure me into his hypnotic embrace with one of his tantalizing touches. That gave Elias time to study game tapes while I rehearsed for my audition.
I’ve made sure everything was perfect: my pointe shoes, my outfit, my hair—which Elias helped me put rhinestones in—and most of all my performance. The piece of both the White and Black Swan that I prepared tirelessly is imprinted in my brain, and not even the anxiety leaking into the pit in my stomach can offset that.
The judges occupy the three center seats in the auditorium. Aubrey Zimmerman, the artistic director of NBT; Sarah Chang, the renowned prima ballerina; and Adrien Kane, the esteemed choreographer. I did extensive research on all three of them, though I’m well aware of their influence on the ballet community.
A flicker of recognition ignites in Aubrey Zimmerman’s gaze, a fleeting acknowledgment, but it’s enough to make me feel on top of the fucking world. He has to remember me from the first open audition I showed up to, and I’m hoping he’s eating his words right now.
When the music starts, I forget about all the rejections that piled into my email, and I let Tchaikovsky take over my body. A surge of adrenaline courses through my veins, drowning out the pounding of my heart and the relentless chatter of doubt in my mind. The soft notes guide my movements with the same resilience and determination I’ve held on to with both hands—because the moment I let it go, I know this will all be over for me.
Every extra work shift, every fight with my parents, and every hour I’ve poured into providing for Sean—they’re all woven into the fabric of each plié. But now I’m done letting the weight of my past dictate my future. This is my opportunity to show exactly that.
As I glide across the stage, I catch glimpses of the judges’ faces—Zimmerman’s piercing gaze is fixed on me, Chang’s expression is inscrutable, and Kane’s keen eyes betray a hint of awe.
For a fleeting moment, doubt threatens to engulf me, but I push it aside, refusing to let it derail me. When the music switches into the faster tempo, signaling the arrival of the black swan, I abandon every reservation in my body and fuel her darkness.
And then, just as the final notes of the music echo through the auditorium, I execute the pièce de résistance—a grand jeté that seems to silence everything. In that fleeting moment of weightlessness, I feel an overwhelming sense of euphoria, and a sort of peace with this role. Whether I secure it or not, I know I gave this my everything.
With a lightness I’ve never felt before, I step into my final rotation. When I look up, all three judges are standing. They don’t say anything. My chest heaves, and my breaths are ragged as I try to find my voice. The nerves kick in, and the anxiety falls right back into my body.
“S-should I go again?” I ask with a shaky voice.
Zimmerman shakes his head. “We’ve seen enough.”
My heart drops to the hardwood floor.
“It’s yours.” The words come from Adrien Kane, and I’m sure that I’m dreaming.
“Sorry?” My voice is squeaky.
Kane leans forward. “Ms. Beaumont, we haven’t seen an emotion-driven audition like this in ages. You are exactly what we picture for the principal role. You are our swan queen.”
I can’t feel my fingers. I can’t feel any part of my body aside from my heart beating out of my chest. I’m fairly certain I’m having a medical emergency.
“We won’t announce it for a few weeks, but you’ll be hearing from us,” says a scrutinizing Zimmerman.
As the assistants usher me off the stage, I can barely move. But instead of letting me cry in the nearest bathroom, Zimmerman catches me in the hallway.
“Tell that nobody that she knows exactly how to make me eat my words.” He smiles before walking out of the glass doors and to a car, exactly like he did all those months ago.
Vindication tastes so damn sweet, I’m not sure I’ll ever get enough of it.
My first thought as I’m inside the bathroom changing, and sobbing, and gulping for air on the stall floor, is to call Elias. That scares me because I’ve only ever wanted to share good news with Sean. But this time there’s one more person who reminds me of how much he believes in me, and I want him to know it was worth it.