Chapter 19 Nineteen

against the principles I set for myself:

1. Do not play pranks on other ballerinas.

2. Do not backstab your best friend

3. Do not fall in love with a guy you just met and barely know.

I know I should not be falling for him but I just can't help it. How can I not be suffering the case of butterflies when I recall his ethereal voice? He should be pursuing a singing career not an engineering him. I can envision him on stage, performing to adoring fans. The image makes me . . . jealous. He should not be performing to anybody but me. I wonder if he has a girlfriend. Would he be giving me all that attention if he did? I do not think so; Malik does not seem like the type of guy who would hurt someone he loves like that. But you can never know. Human beings are full of surprises. You think you know someone and it turns out that they were living a fake life along, like Cleo did.

The nightmare I had about Cleo and Malik flood my mind. Images of them kissing flashes in my head, like snapshots it shows the view from all angles. A thick wave of nausea overpowers me and I race to my toilet, heaving and retching over it but nothing comes up.

When I finally succeed to coax my reluctant body into showering, dressing up and leaving my bedroom, I arrive five minutes late to class.

Ms Azizen purses her lips as I walk in. Her eyes narrow in suspicion and maybe, ire but to my greatest surprise, she does not say a word. Had aliens kidnapped her in the dead of the night and wiped her brain taking all her sternness away? If that is what happened, then I am forever grateful and indebt to the aliens.

Arla gives me a big good morning grin when she sees me. I look away, trying to concentrate on the routine. I do not want to change Ms Azizen's mind. It seems that she decided that she is in a good mood today.

The next dance is Giselle and the competition is tight. It is even tighter than it was for the Sugarplum Fairy. The potential dancers for the role are:

Arla—the girl is a ballet demon, what she does not have in looks and built, she makes up for in technique but she is always casted behind me because she is just not a stunner or stage candy like Cleo and I are. Her feet are always in perfect pose: arched like bananas, her posture and demure are always perfect which is something to be envious about.

Cleo—it is annoying to think that I taught Cleo everything she knows. She benefitted from me then left me shattered like a parasite does to the host. Honestly, Arla is a much better dancer than Cleo but Cleo has something that Ms Azizen calls Passion. Emotion. That is probably why she gets casted at all. That and her good looks.

Tina—she is a petite, asthma dancer that nobody really noticed. She was never something to wow about; her technique was so-so, she lacked the grace and poise but I think she has the passion. She is good enough to keep but lately, Tina was been getting better and better. She even got casted in a minor role in the Nutcracker which was the first time she got casted and she has been getting better rapidly. I see the look of admiration and consideration in Ms Azizen's eyes.

And lastly, me. I believe that I have a strong shot at the role. Since I wowed Ms Azizen with my performance as the Sugarplum Fairy, she might give me another shot. I hope so.

Once the class is over, I slip out and head to the refectory. For some reason, I am very hungry or maybe I want to get my lunch early so I can leave before the lovebirds (Cleo and Adam) show up.

I order apple slices and an avocado. I am beginning to feel that my Dad's food choices are rubbing off on me. Maybe it is genetic. When I am done eating, I slink out of the refectory only to meet a gang of guffawing ballet dancers at the entrance; both sexes, various heights and body shapes and a variety of skin shades. Of course Adam and Cleo are at the centre of them, being worshipped and adored for their awesomeness. The gang hushes when I past them and the couple stare at me. I stare back at them, something flickers across Cleo's face, ruining her perfect fa?ade and she looks away. But Adam does not look away, he stares at me until I turn and walk away.

I hate the fact that I still have feelings for Adam. I still need to steady my jittery heart and wobbly knees when I see him. And I miss Cleo more than I would like admit. I wish I could go back in time and stop myself from crushing on Adam so Cleo can have him without breaking up our friendship.

"Gigi!" I hear Arla call from behind me. I hear her feet slapping lightly on the floor.

I groan without meaning to. "What is it now, Arla?"

She flinches like I have slapped her. "Nothing," she whimpers then clears her throat, "I wanted to ask how you are."

I feel like the biggest idiot on the planet. "I am fine and you?"

"I am fine too." Her mouth opens and closes like she wants to say more then she decides against it and walks away with sagging shoulders.

After dinner and a shower, I dial Malik's number but it goes to voicemail so against my better judgement, I suck in a deep breath and record a message. "Hey, how are you? How was your day and how did lectures go? I was wondering if we could meet tomorrow, I was thinking of that three-course-meal restaurant downtown. It would give me an excuse to wear a nice dress," I add a dry laugh then pauses, not knowing what to add then I say, "you can think of it as a date if you wish."

When I rest my head on my pillow to sleep, I can hear Malik's voice inside my head. I close my eyes and imagine dancing with him to the music of his voice.