I try to contain my surprise and turn to Audrey, convinced she’ll try to talk them out of this plan.
“I know,” she says. “The legal age is eighteen, but apparently it’s not that big a deal here.”
My eyes grow wide, but all of them just shrug. Lucy nods enthusiastically, waiting for me to get on board. Am I really that uptight? Oh my God, am I more uptight than Audrey Chapman? That changes now.
EVEN MORE SHOCKING: Audrey decides to join us on our party boat. Sure, it was only after Lucy presented her with endless arguments: it would be a crime against Paris to spend Bastille Day inside; we were all responsible enough to get a good night’s sleep on a school night so we would be fresh and ready tomorrow morning; and many of our classmates were coming—it was almost like an official outing. Audrey pouted and shrugged as she listened to Lucy, but deep down I think she actually wanted to come. There are only so many ballet videos on YouTube, after all. I would know.
We spend most of the afternoon getting ready. There are many debates regarding outfit choices. Sleek and black or bright and fun? We swap our makeup—I love red lipstick and have several options to share. And, of course, shoes.
Here’s a thing no one tells you when you want to do ballet: after years of dancing, your feet are going to look…terrible. Tortured, blistered, raw, and lumpy. When you buy new summer shoes, you’ll zero in on styles that hide most of the damage, which is why none of us own any of those trendy minimalist sandals. We have to hide the not-so-pretty part of ballet so we can perpetuate the dream for everyone else. My new espadrilles are perfect for tonight.
Once we’re all dressed up, the four of us head out to a well-known crêperie a few streets away. We’ll meet the rest of the crew on the boat. This area is a favorite of college students and tourists of all stripes, so it’s packed with cheap eateries serving cuisines from all around the world. Tonight we opt for classic French. We get a table, and I cast a glance around to see what others are eating before settling on a complète （ham, sunny-side-up egg, and Gruyère）。 As we wait for our meals, Lucy and Anouk fill us in on what’s been going on in level four: who’s great, who’s a bit of a drama queen, and who likes whom.
“You have time for that kind of stuff?” Audrey asks, shaking her head in disapproval.
Anouk scoffs. “To notice which boys are cute? Um, yeah…”
Audrey sighs like she can’t believe it.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never looked at Fernando,” Lucy asks Audrey.
“Of course I’ve looked at him. He’s my dance partner, remember?”
Audrey’s tone is condescending, but it takes more to put off Lucy. She just rolls her eyes, and she and Anouk start laughing.
“Come on, Mia,” Lucy says, “tell us the gossip about level five.”
I shrug. “There’s not much to tell. We just work really hard.”
Audrey lets out a deep exhale. “Yep. We give everything we can and then, no matter how perfect we are, Monsieur Dabrowski complains that the look on our face isn’t quite right.”
“Nobody’s perfect,” Anouk says.
“Except for Audrey.” I mean it as a joke, but it’s kind of true. I glance at her, checking her reaction, and she answers with a small smile.
“It’s still not enough,” she says sadly.
We all fall silent. I would never trade my spot in a million years, but, yeah, being in level five is a lot to deal with sometimes. I look at Audrey’s sloped shoulders as she rubs her cloth napkin mindlessly. She can seem so tough, unaffected. I guess that’s what Monsieur Dabrowski meant about her Odette solo. It’s strange to see her looking vulnerable now.
As we finish eating, we change the topic to the crêpes we just had. Mine was perfect, but Lucy positively gushes about hers, which was full of crème fra?che and mushrooms.
Then we head straight to the boat. A nightclub on the water. Anouk was right. No IDs, no questions, just four ballerinas grabbing drinks and marching onto the dance floor. There are lots of trendy-looking young people: girls in dresses and high heels, boys in crisp white shirts and hipster sneakers. I recognize many students from school: Fernando is here along with a few others from level five, and Lucy and Anouk take us straight to where their classmates are hanging. The DJ blasts the latest hits over the speakers, and there are purple lights near the floor, making everyone look like they’re floating. The music pulses through my body. It’s so loud that I can’t hear my own thoughts. It’s just music and sweat and bodies and drinks sloshing everywhere. It’s so fantastically the opposite of everything about ballet that I feel my entire body relax. I love it.