Page 90 of Barre Fight
Ivy looked at Miss Mary in question. “She was a student of mine for a few years. Not the most graceful girl, but my goodness, she was a hard worker.”
“Is there anyone in Hillstone who didn’t take ballet classes with you?” Ivy asked. She could smell another story here, but more than that, she was genuinely moved by the idea that this teacher had touched the lives of so many children in this town.
“Oh, plenty of them. I always had trouble getting boys in the door—Justin notwithstanding, of course.” She gave Justin the same fond smile she’d given the mayor. “Which reminds me, there’s a boy who wanted to come down to Sydney with us but couldn’t, so I’ve invited him to come here today to meet you and hear a little bit about your life as a dancer. Do you have some time to stick around and talk to him?”
Justin nodded. Ivy had the feeling he’d agree to anything Miss Mary asked of him.
“Excellent,” Miss Mary clasped her hands, then checked her watch. “He should be along in a moment, then.”
Not thirty seconds later, a kid came rolling down the otherwise deserted street on a bike. He dismounted about twenty metres away and set the bike down carefully on the charred crunchy ground that Ivy could barely tell had once been grass. When he straightened, he regarded the three adults cautiously, and Ivy saw his eyes flick warily towards the news van and the reporter.
“Kieran!” Miss Mary called warmly. “Come on over and let me introduce you.”
The boy loped over, lanky and looking somewhat uncomfortable in his own body the way kids often did when puberty hit, like they no longer had confidence that they could fully control all their limbs. Ivy wasn’t great at determining the ages of children just by looking at them, but she guessed Kieran was 11 or 12. Under his short dark blonde hair, his cheeks were still round and boyish, as though his preteen growth spurt hadn’t made it to his face yet.
“Hi, Miss Mary,” he mumbled as he reached them.
“Hello,” Miss Mary replied. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. This is Ivy, she’s a journalist from Sydney.”
Ivy didn’t bother correcting the ballet teacher; she simply smiled and gave Kieran a small, friendly wave. He ducked his head in greeting, but when he stood up straight again, he was slightly taller than she was.
“And this is Justin, a former student of mine,” Miss Mary went on. “He’s a professional dancer now, and he just got back from a trip to New York, where he danced on one of the most famous stages in the world.” The woman’s pride in Justin was so obvious that his cheeks went pink as she spoke. Ivy watched the rosy patches form. God, he was adorable. “Justin, this is Kieran Kavanaugh, who wanted to come to see you and the company dance in Sydney but couldn’t make it.”
Justin froze, his hand already partially extended towards Kieran, and Ivy watched as all that colour drained from his face. He was staring at the boy as though paralyzed by shock, hand still suspended at an odd angle in front of his body.
Ivy looked at Justin, and then at Kieran, then back at Justin, whose face barely concealed the turmoil she could sense he was feeling. Kieran Kavanaugh. Kavanaugh. Why did that name sound so familiar to her?
Justin still hadn’t said anything, and now Kieran waslooking at him questioningly, his eyes flicking between Justin’s face and his oddly extended hand.
“Kieran,” Ivy jumped in hastily. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m sorry you missed the performance in Sydney.”
Kieran ducked his head again and glanced away, and Ivy used the opportunity to gently push Justin’s hand back down to his side.
“The other kids said the show was pretty cool,” Kieran mumbled in the direction of Ivy’s knees, and Ivy felt a thrill of satisfied excitement zip through her. She’d known that the kids had fun touring the Opera House and seeing the dancers and their costumes up close, but the knowledge that they’d come back and declared ballet “cool” made her feel like she’d pulled off something unlikely. Something that might do some real good in the world.
Ivy flicked her eyes at Justin, who was still stiff and wide-eyed next to her. Miss Mary was looking askance at him, too, and Ivy had a feeling that the other woman wouldn’t let him stand there pale and silent for much longer before she prodded him to speak to the kid. Ivy glanced over Justin’s shoulder to where the reporter appeared to have stopped filming.
“Miss Mary, could you check if Rowaida wants any more footage of you or Justin? I want to make sure she has everything she needs to make the story sing.”
Miss Mary cast a curious glance at her, then at Justin, but to Ivy’s relief she gave Ivy a short nod and turned away, walking towards the reporter and waving to get her attention.
“Kieran,” Ivy said gently. “Did you have any questions for Justin? About what it’s like to be a professional ballet dancer?”
Kieran raised his wide brown eyes to Justin’s, and Ivy watched as he seemed to take in Justin’s broad shoulders and muscular arms. “I thought ballet was for girls,” he said bluntly.
Justin didn’t reply, and after a long beat, Ivy jumped in,barely resisting the urge to step on Justin’s foot to get him to snap out of it.
“It’s for everyone, of every gender,” she said brightly. “It’s true that lots more girls take ballet classes, but Justin has lots of guy colleagues and friends in the ballet company, right?”
“Right.” Justin finally spoke, but his voice sounded rough, like his throat was constricted by something.
That seemed to be all she was going to get out of him. Kavanaugh. She looked at Kieran, searching the recesses of her brain while trying to figure out how to keep this conversation, if you could call it that, from drying up entirely.
“Are you interested in trying ballet?” she ventured, and the boy looked up at her quickly, alarm all over his soft, round face. He looked younger than ever.
“I play footy,” he said hastily.
“That sounds like fun,” she said, noticing that he hadn’t technically answered her question. “But you know, plenty of people take dance classes and play sports. I bet there are some girls in Miss Mary’s class who do swimming, or soccer. Maybe you can talk to your parents about taking a class with Miss Mary, to see if you like?—”
