I Forgot to Tell You (2 page)

Alexandra raised her eyebrows. “Uh-huh. Tristan, I'm kind of worried about you. I mean, if you're just talking to him on the Internet —”

“I know him from real life, though! It's not like that.”

“Soooo,” said Alexandra, starting to smirk, “what exactly happened with Julian? Did you find out if he's gay or not yet?”

“I don't know!” Tristan exploded.

“What do you mean you don't know?”

“Like, okay, so this was after men's class, and we were walking to the bus stop, right?”

“Yeah. Wait, when was this?”

“Like, two weeks ago.”

“Wow, rebound much?”

“Shut up. Anyway, so we were walking, and I said, uh, I said —” Tristan stopped, suddenly awkward.

“Whaaat? C'mon, tell me. What? What? What?”

“Well, I was like, ‘I don't know if you are gay, or straight, or whatever, but I like you, and I thought you should know that.'”

“And?”

“I don't know! He just ignored it and started talking really fast about something else. I know he heard me. I don't know. He's stupid.”

“What the — yeah, that's super weird. Julian's strange.”

“Yeah. Whatever. I'm over it.”

The bus pulled up to Alexandra's stop, and she stood up. “Bye, love you, see you tomorrow. Don't talk to Internet freaks.”

Alexandra stood at the window of the studio on the top floor of the academy. She could see into the apartment across from the studio, and she absentmindedly watched the people inside to take her mind off the pain from stretching. She was getting better; she could almost hook her chin over her toe when it was stretched out in front of her on the
barre
now.

Jessica came in, took one look at Alexandra in the empty room, and snorted. “Do you have any friends?”

Alexandra ignored her. She had her headphones in; they could have been louder. With excessive noise, Jessica set her bags down and began to stretch. Grace followed her in a few moments later, and they sat together, talking and stretching. Alexandra kept looking out the window, stretching her foot above her head. Ever since Grace had gotten first cast of Swanhilda in the June production of
Coppelia
, it had been like she had jumped a level and Alexandra had been left behind. Alexandra wondered to herself what she had ever liked in Grace.
What I don't get
, Alexandra thought,
is why the academy always casts her
.
She doesn't have a good body type; she doesn't do well at competitions. She just isn't very good.

Alexandra could hear Grace and Delilah's conversation get louder, and she pressed her face into her shin, trying to ignore them. “The whole time, she was just sucking up to the photographer, and she didn't even tell him that she was just the understudy! It was unbelievable. Like, who does she think she is?”

Alexandra heard Jessica laugh. “Well, if she's that desperate, maybe she should have it. I don't know how you deal with her, she's so —”

Alexandra could feel them turn to look at her, and she automatically pulled her foot even closer to her head.

“Do you think she's listening to us? She totally is. So creepy!”

Alexandra had had about all she could stand. She untangled her limbs, picked up her bag, and walked out of the room, heading downstairs to the large airy main studio where they had class.

Downstairs the studio had almost filled up. “Tris, save me a spot?” she called from the doorway.

“Fine,” Tristan complained. He set his water bottle on the patch of floor by the
barre
next to him.

Alexandra wandered off to the academy's office. She needed to talk to the office's person-in-charge-of-everything, Gabriel. She had thought about it the night before, and if she wasn't going to get a cast of Swanhilda she would have to work even harder this year and get out by September. She needed a new school, new teachers, new air to breathe, and people that believed in her. So she had made a list of things she needed to accomplish by then.

Grace's mom was waiting at the office, leaning on the counter with a serene smile on her face as she surveyed the studio lobby, watching everyone go in and out. “Oh, hi, Lexi, what do you need?”

Alexandra smiled at her. “Hi. Just needed to talk to Gabriel.”

“Oh, what about?”

Alexandra looked away to the inner office, hoping that Gabriel wouldn't suddenly appear and she wouldn't have to state what she wanted with Grace's mom watching. “Just needed to get some bills from my privates.”

“Oh, yes,” said Grace's mom sympathetically. “Those bills, they're horrendous.” She moved in closer to Alexandra so that she could whisper into her ear. “Do you know what I always tell Grace? It's because they're all foreigners. Foreigners treat money differently than we do. They don't realize what a privilege it is to teach our children.”

Alexandra fought an instinctive urge to noticeably wince, and settled for moving away from her. “Oh?”

“Well, I have to go now; I can't spend any more time hanging around here … always so busy! Good luck, sweetie.” Grace's mother exited the office in a swirl of expensive clothing and red lipstick. If I'm ever like that I'm going to shoot myself, Alexandra thought.

Gabriel emerged from the office like an oversized magic genie the second Grace's mother had left. “Alexandra,” he said with relief.

Alexandra stared at him in surprise, caught off guard; he was usually far less happy to see her. She shook her head and rattled off the list of questions she had compiled since she had last seen him. “Gabriel, can I start having privates again with Mr. Demidovski for a competition in the summer? And can I book studio A for one slot a week starting on the sixteenth, because Mrs. Mallard is going to be coaching me for my Solo Seal? And can I have a bursary sheet to apply for a bursary?”

Gabriel nodded and dived under his desk to rummage in the cardboard boxes where he kept his most important papers, never fully trusting the ancient academy computer. “She just got divorced,” he mumbled under the table.

“What? Who?” Alexandra rose to her
demi-pointe
and leaned over the counter so that her head was on the same side of the counter as Gabriel's. “Who's getting divorced, Gabriel?”

“Her. Grace's mother. April Kendall.” Gabriel closed his mouth and pulled out a bursary form. He stood up. “Here you go.”

“How do you know?” Alexandra took the form from Gabriel.

“She told me,” he said uncomfortably.

“Weird …”

Gabriel nodded his agreement.

“See ya, Gabriel. Thanks.” Alexandra left the office, frowning with the news she had just gotten. Why would April tell Gabriel about that? How would that even come out? “Hey, person who I sign my daughter up for dance lessons with, I'm getting divorced?” Was she trying to hit on him? Ew!

Alexandra was walking back toward class when she saw her mother outside. She paused, surprised, and started walking toward the glass side doors to say hi and ask her what she was doing at the academy. As Alexandra drew closer, she saw that Grace's mother was talking to her mother, and they both looked angry. April Kendall's posture was drawn up and stiffened in the way she did when she was mad, and Beth was gesticulating, clearly getting over-emotional. She walked on the side of the hall where she was hidden by the wall but could still see out, and walked until she could hear their conversation. “Everybody knows that your daughter doesn't have a scrap of talent!” Alexandra could hear her Beth say. “I think it's just sickening how you think you can use money to buy your daughter what she should be working for. What are you teaching her? That mommy's going to buy her false rewards for the rest of her life?”

“You are completely out of line,” Alexandra could hear April hiss. “You are crazy. My daughter is a better dancer than your daughter, and you just can't handle that.”

“Uh-huh. Tell me, is Grace still going to get the same roles now that you and Tomas have split? Maybe you should have thought about that before —”

Alexandra never got to hear what came before, because she turned around, hearing a sound on the steps behind her. Taylor was sitting on the steps, her blue eyes wide in surprise. “Did you hear that?” she whispered to Alexandra.

“Yeah. What the frick?”

“I don't know. Your mom was walking this way, and then Grace's mom came out, and they were talking normally about something, and then all of a sudden they just started yelling. Like that. Is it true?”

Alexandra thought. “I don't know. It seems really bizarre, but — my mom wouldn't make that up. I can't believe she didn't tell me about it!”

“Maybe she didn't know before,” Taylor suggested.

“I wonder if Grace knows,” Alexandra said suddenly, the thought popping into her brain. An image of Grace filled her brain, so smug and self-righteous, with her thick golden-brown hair and brown eyes, never yelled at, even by Mr. Moretti, never hated by any of the teachers. Alexandra sat down next to Taylor and stared at the window. Beth was walking away from April, her steps long and firm as she crossed the street to her car.

“I guess she doesn't need to do anything here after all,” Taylor said, giggling.

“Wouldn't that be the most horrible thing in the entire world?” Alexandra asked, still thinking about Grace. “Imagine thinking that you were really good at something your entire life and then finding out that no, actually someone had been just paying for everyone to pretend you were good?”

Taylor shrugged. “It wouldn't be that bad,” she said. “Of course it would be better to be actually good, but …”

Alexandra stood up suddenly. “Don't tell Grace,” she ordered Taylor. She suddenly felt strangely protective of Grace. Grace had been horrible to her all year, but there were some things that nobody should have to find out. Especially by being told by Taylor, Alexandra thought, struggling to not roll her eyes at Taylor's hair. Taylor had decided to do a bun on either side of her head today instead of just one bun, and in Alexandra's highly judgmental opinion, she looked like an idiot. “Let's go to class, we're going to be late.”

As Alexandra stood at her spot next to Tristan at the
barre
, she had another thought, looking across the room at Grace warming up. What if she does know that her mom has been buying her roles? And she's just been lying to me all these years? Well, it's not like she could tell me if it's true, but still, what an annoying thing to do. The more that Alexandra thought about it, the less she believed that Grace didn't know, and the more furious she got. All those times that I lost roles to her and she acted like it was just because she was better than me!

Julian Reese:

K'naan's the best … he makes me want to rap, but then I remember how stupid I sound when I try :p

Julian woke up feeling down. He got up out of bed, his muscles sore from yesterday's class, and pulled on his clothes. He was too tired to face showering today. He shoved his books and binder in his backpack, barely checking to see if they were the ones that he needed that day. He pulled on his hoodie and jacket, pulling the hood up. No one was in the kitchen, so he grabbed his lunch and a persimmon and left, not bothering to get himself any cereal.

Outside, the world was just as grey as he felt inside. The rain was a steady downpour, dripping down every building, but not violent enough to flood the streets. Julian shifted his backpack onto his shoulders and began walking to the bus stop, biting into his persimmon. With every bite he also got rainwater. He waited for the bus, thinking about nothing. He'd been thinking about nothing a lot lately. It wasn't that he had nothing to think about: it was more that he had so much to think about that the only way to handle it was to think about none of it. So he stood in the rain and watched the sky's dark blue slowly lighten to a grey as the sun came up behind the clouds. He didn't even bother turning on his iPod. The bus came and he got on, sitting on one of the benches at the front.

At McKinley, the halls were empty. He could hear his feet, loud in the usually noisy halls. The Super Achiever's program students were the only ones that had classes this early in the morning. He got to his chemistry class and sat down in a seat in the back.
Oh.
He remembered that he had homework for today. Basic stuff, just some balancing. Stuff that he should have been able to do in his sleep; only not literally, and he had gone to sleep instead of doing it last night. He reached in his backpack and searched through his binder for the sheet that he was supposed to have completed. His binder was a mess of all the subjects he was taking thrown together: chemistry and biology and socials and math and English. He finally found it, between a paper on the Canadian parliamentary system and a handout sheet on Macbeth. He looked up; Alexandra sat in front of him, but her seat was empty today. Tristan wasn't there yet, either. He turned to the side, looking for a possible candidate. There. Emily. “Hey.” His voice was apologetic. He shoved his hoodie back off his head, showing his face. “Did you do the homework? I sorta fell asleep instead.” He smiled.

Emily blushed. “Yeah. Want to copy mine? I think you have time, here …” Emily passed the paper over to him.

“Thanks.” Julian quickly began to copy her work.

“You dance, right?”

“Yup.” Julian concentrated on his paper. While Emily watched Julian, and Julian concentrated on copying, neither of them noticed Mr. Kang coming up behind them.

“Is that the homework sheet? Cheating is a zero,” Mr. Kang commented calmly. “That's a zero for you, Julian, and you, too, Emily.” He walked back to the front.

“Damn it.” Julian rubbed his forehead with both of his hands, trying to rub out everything that kept going wrong in his life lately. “I'm sorry, Emily.”

“It's okay,” Emily reassured him. “It's not worth much. I don't know why he's making such a big deal of it; everyone copies homework for his class.”

“Yeah.” Julian sunk his face down into his hands and spent the rest of the class in that posture, trying to sleep without looking like he was asleep.

Julian waited on the steps for Charlize to pick him up. He and Taylor had another private with Theresa today, even though they were done with competition. When she said that she wanted to continue coaching him every week, Julian had said no, because he didn't know where he would get the money.

“That's all right,” Theresa had said, smiling. And then somehow, Julian wasn't sure how it had happened, she had found a couple that was willing to pay for her to coach Julian. “A scholarship,” Theresa said. “They love to support young people.” The couple had come to watch Julian rehearse a few times, but they had seemed more interested in watching Theresa coach than Julian dance, and Theresa had been a nervous mess each time they had come. Taylor couldn't understand why they were there; Theresa had told Julian not to tell Taylor about the scholarship. Julian told her that they were old fans of Theresa's, which he suspected was the truth.

Charlize took the corner into McKinley's school parking lot a little too hard and narrowly missed hitting a grade twelve student's BMW. Julian walked over and climbed in. He had barely closed the door before Charlize had turned the car in a large circle and sped away again. She drove through the old trees that lined the streets of the rich residential neighbourhood surrounding McKinley. “How are you?” she asked Julian, looking at him in her mirror.

“Good,” Julian said. He looked at Taylor, who was sitting in the front seat.
Still mad?
he mouthed. She nodded.

Charlize pressed hard on her horn, startling a nanny crossing the road with two little children. Julian winced as one of the kids started to cry, burying her small blond head in her nanny's shoulder. “What's wrong, Charlize?” he asked.

“Oh, I'm fine,” Charlize said. “Just a little tired. Agh! I wish they'd just stop handing out licences in Richmond, nobody in that stupid suburb can drive.” She cut off a red car on her left and slipped in front of a black Hummer. Julian stared out the window and suppressed the urge to jump out and moon the Hummer.
There is absolutely no reason to own a Hummer. Period. You will be eaten first in the event of an alien invasion.

Julian reached for his phone as it began to vibrate. It was Taylor.

She cried.

When?

This morning.

They were on the bridge to downtown now. Charlize grabbed the box of Tim Hortons doughnuts that sat between her and Taylor and shoved it backwards to Julian. “Quick, eat it,” she said. “If you don't, I will. I just can't control myself when it comes to doughnuts.”

Julian shrugged and opened the box.
Yay!
There was one of the maple-covered doughnuts with a hole in the centre. Those were Julian's favourite, he loved the maple, but he hated the yucky cream filling that was in the centre of the kind without holes. “Charlize,” he asked, swallowing a bite of the doughnut. “Where did you go to school?”

In front of him, Charlize tensed. “What an odd question,” she said, laughing.

“I was just wondering,” Julian said innocently. “Since you are so upset about Taylor dropping out.”

“That is irrelevant. Nobody wants their kids to make the same mistakes they did. I graduated from high school, and I went to college.”

“Oh.”

“I went to at least ten different high schools,” Charlize suddenly admitted. “I didn't like school, and if you don't attend, they kick you out.”

Taylor turned to her mother, surprised. “You never told me that.”

“Why would I?”

They drove in silence as Taylor sewed her
pointe
shoes and Julian tried to eat his doughnut as slowly as possible.
Mmmm … sugar …

The studio was full when they got there. All the Youth Company dancers were rehearsing in the downstairs studios. They had a run of shows coming up in the Interior, so they had been rehearsing constantly. Taylor and Julian headed up to the top floor, where the smaller studios were located. The door to the studio, usually open, was closed this time. Julian put his ear against it, listening. “I don't hear anything,” he reported back to Taylor. He slowly turned the old glass knob and pushed open the door.

The sunlight coming through the windows made the dust in the air appear to dance. “I wonder when the last time they cleaned up here was,” Taylor said. Her voice seemed loud in the emptiness of the room.

Julian shrugged. He put his bag down and began to put his soft shoes on as Taylor taped her toes. “Ah, hello,” a voice said from behind them. Taylor screamed.

Behind them, Mrs. Demidovski stepped back, startled by the noise. “What you scream? No scream,” she said. Her accent was thick due to her surprise.

“Uh — where did you come from?” Julian asked.

Mrs. Demidovski laughed. “Come here,” she said, motioning them over. She walked toward a purple door at the back of the room. Julian had always assumed that it led into a closet for costume storage. Mrs. Demidovski took a key out of her pocket and opened it up. Julian and Taylor hung back. “Come on,” Mrs. Demidovski said impatiently. “What, you afraid of Mrs. Demidovski?”

Julian shook his head, and he and Taylor followed Mrs. Demidovski into a small room. It was so small that it could have been a closet at some point. “This building, used to be bank,” Mrs. Demidovski explained. “Here, here was a —” she paused, searching for the words. “Keep safe, money, paper.”

“A safe?” Julian asked.

“Yes, yes, keep safe. Never mind, now it is Mrs. Demidovski's office. Come, sit down.” Mrs. Demidovski shut the door behind them, and they walked over to the desk.

“How are you?” she asked, as always. She sat down in the only chair as Julian and Taylor stood awkwardly. “Sit! Sit, uh?”

Julian and Taylor sat on the ground. The floor was covered with a thick blue carpet, completely different from the rest of the academy. It was so comfortable that Julian felt like lying down on it and having a nap. “How are the privates with Theresa?” Mrs. Demidovski asked. “She teach you a lot?”

“Yes.” Julian nodded. “She's awesome.”

“I come and watch.” Mrs. Demidovski did not say it as a question. She turned to Taylor. “And you? How is for you? Do you learn? Are you working hard?”

Taylor shrugged. “Good, I think.”

“You just think? No good. Must know.” Mrs. Demidovski sighed. “Julie, go get Mrs. Demidovski water.”

Julian nodded and left the room in search of the water cooler. He hoped that Theresa wouldn't come and only see an empty studio. He hurried back with the small paper cone of water.

He pushed open the door quickly. “Here you go, Mrs. —” he stopped. Taylor was sitting in Mrs. Demidovski's chair crying while the older woman fussed over her.

“What's wrong?” Julian asked, awkwardly holding the cone of water.

“Nothing,” Mrs. Demidovski snapped. “Give me the water. Thank you.” She took the cone from him and slowly swallowed the whole thing, her wrinkly neck moving as she did so. She passed the cone back to Julian and turned back to Taylor, patting her awkwardly on the head. “You very pretty girl,” she said awkwardly. Mrs. Demidovski was clearly not used to giving compliments. “You very beautiful, very happy, don't worry. Work hard, you become a good dancer. You have a very clean, strong body.”

Taylor nodded, sniffing.

Julian stood there, confused. He wasn't sure what to do. Was he supposed to leave? To agree with Demidovski? It was all so painfully awkward, he hated it when people cried. He heard a loud thump in the studio. “I think Theresa's here,” he said.

Taylor blew her nose.

“Quickly, quickly,” Mrs. Demidovski hurried her. “Go practice.”

Taylor hopped off the chair, and Julian was relieved to see she wasn't crying anymore. She followed Julian out of the room into the studio.

It was Theresa. Julian smiled, glad to see her. “Hello Jules,” she said, smiling back at him. She was dressed in her old ballet clothes like usual. She was the only ballet teacher Julian had who did. All his other teachers wore something they could move in, but it was still street clothing. Theresa wore her tights and soft shoes and bodysuit and did her hair up to teach them. Julian found it a bit odd, but endearing at the same time. He tried not to look at the bones on her chest. She always wore pale bodysuits, and Julian could see all of her bones through the light fabric, and it made him want to wince, like the videos about starving people in Social Studies class. The worst was her boobs: he could see her nipples and then a flat oval patch on each side where a boob should have been but wasn't.

“How are you two?” Theresa asked. “Warm?”

They shook their heads. “We were talking to Mrs. Demidovski,” Julian defended himself.

“That's okay. You wouldn't want to leave Mrs. Demidovski. All right then, I'll give you a few minutes to warm up.” She walked over to the CD player and began fiddling with it. Julian swung his chest down to his legs, hanging there to stretch out his hamstrings. He was still so sore from men's class yesterday. He walked slowly backwards, still hanging down.

“Taylor,” he hissed. She was on the floor tying the ribbons on her
pointe
shoes. “What was wrong?”

“Nothing,” she whispered back. “Tell you later.”

“Why not now?”

“Later!”

“A little bit warmer?” Theresa asked, pulling on a pink knit ballet shrug.

“Yeah.” Julian nodded.

“Now, Julian,” Theresa said, looking at him. “I want to teach you something a little bit different today.” She walked over to him and turned around, so that they were both facing the mirror. She placed his hands on her hips, and adjusted so that she was on
demi-pointe
and her left leg was in
arabesque,
facing the side wall. “Now, lift.”

Julian
plied
on his right leg and bent his arms at the same time, and when he came up again he had pressed her above his head. “Good!” Theresa said excitedly. “Very good! Now lower me down, gently, gently, on my leg so I can balance, make sure you aren't tilting my hips so that I will fall. Very good! Much better Julian, you improve so fast.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Julian saw Taylor roll her eyes.

After their private and regular classes, Julian walked out of the studio with Taylor. “So why were you crying?” he asked.