Audition (35 page)
Authors: Stasia Ward Kehoe
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Stories in Verse, #Love & Romance, #Performing Arts, #Dance
“This is different.”
Professor O’Malley rubs his chin
As he reads the page
I bring to him on Wednesday morning.
As he reads the page
I bring to him on Wednesday morning.
I cannot tell if he means worse
Or better.
Or better.
But I double-check
That I’ve left the extra button on my blouse
Undone.
My blazer sits folded atop my backpack
By the door.
That I’ve left the extra button on my blouse
Undone.
My blazer sits folded atop my backpack
By the door.
“What did you think of . . .”
I sidle up,
Bend my head beside his head,
Point to an unseen line.
I sidle up,
Bend my head beside his head,
Point to an unseen line.
He reads a passage aloud,
Thoughtful.
His breath smells like wintergreen.
His narrow mustache
A little greasy.
I wonder what it would feel like to
Have it brush against my lip.
Thoughtful.
His breath smells like wintergreen.
His narrow mustache
A little greasy.
I wonder what it would feel like to
Have it brush against my lip.
“Sara?”
“What?”
I bleat
Like a stupid chorus girl,
Cowering as if he could read in my eyes
The temptation
To shift my weight
Against his shoulder.
I bleat
Like a stupid chorus girl,
Cowering as if he could read in my eyes
The temptation
To shift my weight
Against his shoulder.
On the corner of his desk
A photograph of three little girls
In summer bonnets,
Not unlike the hallway frame
Where my great-grandmother
And her sisters
Stare from beneath their heavy cloches,
On guard against lice.
I think his daughters in their finery
Guard Professor O’Malley
Against girls like me.
A photograph of three little girls
In summer bonnets,
Not unlike the hallway frame
Where my great-grandmother
And her sisters
Stare from beneath their heavy cloches,
On guard against lice.
I think his daughters in their finery
Guard Professor O’Malley
Against girls like me.
I am ashamed
Of the reason
Of the reason
I brought this page
To his office,
Of the button
Undone at my breastbone
And the time I spent brushing out my hair.
To his office,
Of the button
Undone at my breastbone
And the time I spent brushing out my hair.
As if I were dancing, I feel my body separate
From my soul,
Watching from overhead
A girl who stands too close
To a man.
From my soul,
Watching from overhead
A girl who stands too close
To a man.
“I’ve, um, got to go.”
My paper is still in his hand.
I do not take it back.
Just grab my bag,
Run, graceless, head bowed,
Down the long hall,
Out the dark oak door.
I do not take it back.
Just grab my bag,
Run, graceless, head bowed,
Down the long hall,
Out the dark oak door.
Past the safe green hedgerows
To the gritty street.
To the gritty street.
I do not even know what time it is
Or if I should have stayed longer at school
But when the bus comes,
I get on.
No matter two tattoo-smeared men who sit
In the front seat
Catcall and whistle
As I squeeze past their knees.
Or if I should have stayed longer at school
But when the bus comes,
I get on.
No matter two tattoo-smeared men who sit
In the front seat
Catcall and whistle
As I squeeze past their knees.
My face is numb, then ice, then fire
As the bus lumbers down
Harris Avenue.
Harris Avenue.
Why did Remington kiss me
That first night at Denardio’s?
Why couldn’t he have said
My name
Out loud,
Made the moment
Syncopate,
Hesitate?
That first night at Denardio’s?
Why couldn’t he have said
My name
Out loud,
Made the moment
Syncopate,
Hesitate?
But then,
I didn’t have to
I didn’t have to
Kiss him back.
Plié, tendu, rond de jambe, jeté
In my stylish gray leotard
With its thin straps, well-cut legs,
Fresh pink tights
Unencumbered by leg warmers.
Outside I look like the others now.
With its thin straps, well-cut legs,
Fresh pink tights
Unencumbered by leg warmers.
Outside I look like the others now.
Once you learn the technique
Of joining a man in bed
It seems that it might stretch further
Than développés, splits, grand jetés.
And maybe you’ll consider
Using that technique
On more than one boy
Of joining a man in bed
It seems that it might stretch further
Than développés, splits, grand jetés.
And maybe you’ll consider
Using that technique
On more than one boy
Until, like ballet,
The steps become
An act in themselves,
Separate from you,
And you forget who you are
All over again.
The steps become
An act in themselves,
Separate from you,
And you forget who you are
All over again.
I have not called Bess
Since she texted about Billy Allegra.
She knows I’ve always liked him. Still,
I’ve been away so long.
I imagine she thought,
What was the harm?
It isn’t as if I ever asked her
In all my emails and texts
About him.
I’ve been away so long.
I imagine she thought,
What was the harm?
It isn’t as if I ever asked her
In all my emails and texts
About him.
I guess Kari, Tina, Bess, and I
All agreed
Billy’s muscled arms, brown curls
Were something worth the gaze
Of any girl.
And so I dial.
All agreed
Billy’s muscled arms, brown curls
Were something worth the gaze
Of any girl.
And so I dial.
“Why do you like swing music?”
I ask when she answers the phone.
I ask when she answers the phone.
“Why not?”
Her reply is bright, white,
Simple as an apple blossom,
Simple as an apple blossom,
Artful as a girl can be
Who has never braved a city bus,
Who reads only one book
All year long at school.
Who has never braved a city bus,
Who reads only one book
All year long at school.
“It’s up-tempo, romantic.
In those black-and-white movies with huge scores
Where every musician gets a chance to stand up,
Solo . . . A dream.”
In those black-and-white movies with huge scores
Where every musician gets a chance to stand up,
Solo . . . A dream.”
I know her dreams also stray
To the feel of a boy’s hands
Exploring her breasts.
I know she would listen
If I told her
Everything I have learned
Since coming to Jersey.
But I cannot speak,
Cannot write
About that.
To the feel of a boy’s hands
Exploring her breasts.
I know she would listen
If I told her
Everything I have learned
Since coming to Jersey.
But I cannot speak,
Cannot write
About that.
At the next stop on the tour
The floor of the school is hard as all the others
But I do not feel it
As I slide into Aurora’s lacy tutu,
Watchful for Rem’s eyes
At the dressing-room door.
But I do not feel it
As I slide into Aurora’s lacy tutu,
Watchful for Rem’s eyes
At the dressing-room door.
Try to forget about boys,
About men,
Become the innocent sleeping beauty
Aurora was at sixteen.
About men,
Become the innocent sleeping beauty
Aurora was at sixteen.
The CD, well-worn from Bonnie’s many performances,
Includes a few certain, predictable hesitations.
I build them into my dance,
Feel my arms swirl, my toes point,
Grabbing at celebration,
At dancing
For joy.
Includes a few certain, predictable hesitations.
I build them into my dance,
Feel my arms swirl, my toes point,
Grabbing at celebration,
At dancing
For joy.
The little girl
In Ms. Alice’s basement,
Whose friends celebrated,
Whose parents softly prodded,
Who wanted to be good,
In Ms. Alice’s basement,
Whose friends celebrated,
Whose parents softly prodded,
Who wanted to be good,
Who became good enough to audition
For the chance to leave them all behind.
For the chance to leave them all behind.
Before I know it
The music has stopped.
My dance has ended.
The music has stopped.
My dance has ended.
From the wings, Madison and I watch
Remington’s dance,
Which Yevgeny has added to the tour program.
Which Yevgeny has added to the tour program.
Lisette and Fernando,
Her head, bent forward.
Her arms, reaching back.
He draws her up into an arabesque.
She pulls her knee forward, head down again.
He grabs her hips, lifts her to the side.
Her arms, reaching back.
He draws her up into an arabesque.
She pulls her knee forward, head down again.
He grabs her hips, lifts her to the side.
Madison follows every move,
Her feet pointed as if
She would step onto the stage
Any instant.
Her feet pointed as if
She would step onto the stage
Any instant.
When it is over, the applause
Crashes toward us
As if the kids in the audience
See, understand
This dance is special,
Different, made
On one of them
For them,
For us.
Crashes toward us
As if the kids in the audience
See, understand
This dance is special,
Different, made
On one of them
For them,
For us.
Behind me,
Already in his Papa Bear shirt,
Rem grabs my hand,
Gives it a quick squeeze.
He’s called the dance “Country Duet.”
Already in his Papa Bear shirt,
Rem grabs my hand,
Gives it a quick squeeze.
He’s called the dance “Country Duet.”
I feel the electric joy
In his fingertips,
The rushed exhale
Of his elation.
In his fingertips,
The rushed exhale
Of his elation.
Look up to where his moist eyes reach
From the wings
To Lisette’s perfect curtsy.
From the wings
To Lisette’s perfect curtsy.
Scurry away
To change into Mama Bear
For another kind of country dance.
To change into Mama Bear
For another kind of country dance.
The applause lingers
Like dust in bright sunlight
As Remington and I begin
Our bear promenade.
As Remington and I begin
Our bear promenade.
I let him lead me
Through the simple combination,
Watch, as usual,
Fernando support
Goldilocks Lisette’s precise pirouettes.
Through the simple combination,
Watch, as usual,
Fernando support
Goldilocks Lisette’s precise pirouettes.
Resist the urge
To step to center stage
Alone, claim my part
In Rem’s dance.
To step to center stage
Alone, claim my part
In Rem’s dance.
The audience is still with us,
Laughing, cheering at the bears’ silly antics,
Goldilocks’s delightful arabesques,
Exploding when Lisette takes her bow.
Laughing, cheering at the bears’ silly antics,
Goldilocks’s delightful arabesques,
Exploding when Lisette takes her bow.
Other books
Her Wild Bear by West, Heather
Fight And The Fury (Book 8) by Craig Halloran
Happy as Larry by Scot Gardner
Night Monsters by Lee Allen Howard
High Octane by Lisa Renee Jones
Who's Sorry Now? by Jill Churchill
Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry by Hughes, Amanda
Three Hearts and Three Lions by Poul Anderson
There Must Be Murder by Margaret C. Sullivan