again. Turning around and peering over her shoulder, she stared at her butt from the back. Next, Jessica took her pants all the way off, and stood first in the skinny mirror, then in the fat mirror, and then one leg in both to compare. She went and stood next to Taylor, who was the skinniest person in the class. Taylor was facing front, so she looked front too, comparing their reflections. She was wider, so she went to the back of the class and put her warm-ups away, sulking. A couple seconds later, Jessica marched back to the front and took a spot at the front of the barre, in front of Mao. She stood there, experimenting with sucking her pelvis and stomach in and out.
Kaitlyn flopped onto her stomach still in the splits, giving her an excuse to hide her laughter. She’d met Jessica at a master class before, but hadn’t gotten a chance to appreciate just how messed she was.
Delilah was sitting on the floor stretching with Tristan, both of them giggling quietly about someone. Mr. Moretti walked in, disturbing Kaitlyn’s observation as he called, “Everyone, the barre, now. Boys, bring the centre barres out.” He frowned, looking around him. “Where is George?”
“Having a smoke!” Delilah called out.
“Coming, coming, no need to make a big fuss,” George said, as he sat down at the piano, shuffling his notes, and taking a quick gulp of his coffee.
“Yes, I suppose it does not matter if the class starts on time … or indeed if we start at all, does it, George?” asked Mr. Moretti, raising his eyebrows.
“Well now, I wouldn’t say that. Why don’t we just get started now?” George refused to rise to the bait.
“Yes, why don’t we do that,” replied Mr. Moretti smoothly. “Everyone, are you cold? Surely not. Take off your pants and sweaters, how do you expect me to see what your hipses are doing with all those clothes on?”
“I cringe every time he says ‘hipses,’” Sophia whispered to Ella.
“Everyone, same pliés as always. Oh, congratulations, De-Li-Lah! How far along?” Mr. Moretti bent down to pat her stomach. Delilah blushed and pulled her stomach in more.
The door opened and Anna slipped in. “Sorry, Mr. Moretti, I was just talking to Mr. Demidovski.”
“Of course, Anna, of course. Take your spot.” said Mr. Moretti, frowning.
“Somebody looks pissed,” giggled Anna as she slipped in between Tristan and Delilah, commanding her, “Delilah, move up.” Delilah did, forcing Mao to work on an angle, and Jessica to work at 45 degree extensions every time she went to the back. The door opened again, and Mrs. Demidovski came in.
“Everyone! Excuse me, Mr. um … yes. Everyone! Meeting after first class, no pointe class today,” she said. “Continue,” she added before walking out of the room.
“Thank you, Mrs. Demidovski,” Mr. Moretti pasted a smile on his face and bowed slightly. “Everyone, next class I expect pointe shoes from the beginning. For me, this must be so. For the other teachers, I do not care what they do. Tendues, please. Mao, can you demonstrate the exercise for the class?”
Mao began doing the exercise while counting aloud, “One, two, three, four, five, shix …”
“Shix? What is shix?” asked Mr. Moretti, while the class giggled. Mao looked up at him fearfully and pointed her foot more. When that didn’t work she turned out her leg more, and began doing tendues with exaggerated roll through. “All right, six,” relented Mr. Moretti.
At three o’clock, George began fidgeting. He stacked his notes twice, pretending to organize them. Finally, he stood up and turned around to look at the clock behind him. He gave an exaggerated start of surprise, and turned back to Mr. Moretti. “Hey man, you know this class ends at three?”
Mr. Moretti turned to stare at him. “If you want to leave, George, I’m not stopping you. Feel free to go if you want.”
George raised his eyebrows, returning his stare. “Uh, no, that’s okay … I’m just saying … it’s three.”
“I believe I say when this class is finished, George. That’s my job. But if you want to leave, I’m not stopping you. We can use a CD player. At a least a CD player does not talk.”
Angela obviously thought this was hilarious. As Mr. Moretti passed by her, she reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, and said, “Good one!” in a stage whisper.
Mr. Moretti froze. Kaitlyn held her breath as Mr. Moretti turned around and glared at Angela. “I am not your friend,” he enunciated slowly. He turned away from her and gave a shudder of revulsion. With obvious effort, he recovered himself and began to lead another exercise to the class. George made himself small behind the piano, doing his best impression of a CD player.
After class, Kaitlyn turned to Taylor. “What’s the meeting about?”
Jonathon must have overheard, because he laughed. He was from Montana and it was his third year. “Oh, it’ll pretty good … um, a bit of ‘this year is going to be different,’ a bit of ‘we do everything for the student’ from Mr. Demidovski, some random shit, and then we clap.”
“Sounds fun….” said Kaitlyn, sarcastically. She looked at him more interestedly as he turned away. Jonathon definitely wasn’t a stellar dancer, but he looked pretty strong.… Yes, she’d try to get a pas with him for competition this year. She stepped up beside him so he looked at her. “So, how do you like it in Canada?” she asked, suddenly friendly. “You look like you could have gotten into some of the big schools like SFB, what made you come here?”
“Oh, I like Canada, so I decided to come to Vancouver,” he said easily, not noticing any flattery. “You’re pretty good yourself,” he added as an afterthought.
“Thanks,” said Kaitlyn smiling. “Dumbass,” she thought to herself. Did he actually think he was as good as her? They all went into Studio A and waited.
Angela turned to Kaitlyn. “Where are you from?” she asked brightly.
“Oh, here. Van-city.” said Kaitlyn, bored.
“Oh. I’m from England and Australia, but I was born here.” said Angela. Kaitlyn showed no signs of asking her to elaborate, but she continued anyway. “My Papa,” at this Kaitlyn raised her eyebrows in disbelief. Papa? Happy at having engaged Kaitlyn’s interest, she thought, Angela gained more enthusiasm for her subject. “My Papa is a diplomat, so we all move around quite a lot. But I just love ballet so much, it is my life.”
I think I’m going to puke, Kaitlyn thought.
“So my Mama and Papa promised I could come here by myself.”
“Oh. You mean you homestay? Most people here do. Which homestay do you stay at?” said Kaitlyn.
“Oh, I don’t homestay! I stay with some family members, but they are not very welcoming …” she said, trying to look pitiful.
“Oh.” said Kaitlyn, not terribly impressed. At that moment the Demidovskis finally came in and Angela shut up, trying to sit up extremely straight and putting a “good student” expression on her face. Kaitlyn looked at her in disbelief.
“Wow, pathetic much,” she whispered to Tristan, who had scooted to sit beside her.
“No
