Page 75 of Wicked Dance
“What do you have for me?” Mariah asks.
The four women go over to a different rack. I assume I must be done. I spot Jessie in the corner and she gives me a sympathetic smile.
When I’m back in my ballet outfit, I carry the dress out. Cameron and Kendra are still sorting through dresses with Mariah and Christy, so I just hang the dress up and leave. I can see I’m not their priority.
I tell myself again that it doesn’t matter.
When Jessie and I get in the hall, the assistant choreographer runs up to say Blitz is ready to rehearse our number for the second live show, the one where I do a ballet. I’m completely relieved to be able to see him after the stress of the wardrobe room. I send Jessie back to the workout studio to collect my toe shoes.
The stage is mostly empty, although our prop for that dance is partially constructed. It’s a tall, pale blue fake ice sculpture of a goddess, robes flowing, her hair blowing wildly out. It matches our dance, which depicts the ice goddess thawing with the arrival of a man.
Blitz is talking to Amara, who is showing him a deep gentlemanly bow. He tries it, and she adjusts him over and over again. I sit on the floor to tie on my toe shoes. Amara sees me and gestures for a girl holding a flat stiff pancake tutu to approach.
When I stand up, she lowers the tutu so I can step inside it. She seats it properly on my hips, then hooks the closure in the back.
I’ve never worn a pancake tutu, only flowing ones, and as soon as I lower my arms, my wrists smack into the stiff netting. I jerk them back up.
“That’s why we’re practicing with it early,” Amara says. “They take getting used to for both of you. Blitz will have to get accustomed to dealing with the distance he’ll need to keep to avoid smashing it.”
Interesting they are doing this. In a classic tutu like this, we’ll have to stay at arm’s length, like the most traditional ballet.
“I guess we won’t be making out onstage,” I tell him.
He smiles. “I can get around any obstacle.” To prove it, he leans over and presses a kiss on my mouth.
“All right, from the top,” Amara says. “It’s going to feel very different with the costume. Blitz, don’t forget the bow.”
As we run through the dance, the spotters moving forward with each lift since we might run into trouble with the tutu, I realize how stilted and formal it feels. I wonder if I’m being sabotaged. The dance is pretty, and I think the viewers will like it. But we’re not talking about choosing a ballet partner. This is about making a commitment with someone.
And with this dance and this getup, we’re going to look like we barely know each other.
