Page 41 of Pages of Amber
“What are you doing?”
Amber jumped, snapping the zip closed in a second. Lexi stared at her, blank eyes fixed on Amber’s face. She stood, hauling the bags with her.
“You didn’t need to come over. I have the bags.”
“You took a while.”
“I didn’t realize.”
Amber stared at her friend. Had Lexi seen her poking into her bag? If she had, she would have said something, right? But she hadn’t mentioned she was sick. Amber itched to ask about it– the pills, her friend’s illness, why she felt a need to hide it –but she paused. Maybe Lexi hadn’t said anything because she wanted to keep it private. She worried for her friend but that didn’t give her much right to demand an explanation from her.
“Come on. Evelyn’s waiting.”
Lexi took her bag and they walked back to Evelyn. As they practiced, Amber tried to set her worry aside. Evelyn asked about some of the steps and Amber did her best to guide her, her mother’s instructions running a loop in her head. Lexi let out a huff almost an hour after they had started and stepped away from them.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Fine.” The response was clipped. Something obviously wasn’t fine. Amber’s worries rose again. She said nothing but spoke a bit louder when showing Evelyn the steps so that Lexi could hear and follow the directions even if she only stood away, arms folded as she watched them.
When they rested in the last step, Evelyn smiled at her. “You’re great with the steps. I’m doing so well learning from you. I feel like I actually have a shot at the auditions now.”
“Don’t say that. You’re an amazing dancer and you’ll do great at the auditions.” Amber snatched up a water bottle from her bag and twisted the cap. Looking into the bottle, she continued bashfully, “I shouldn’t get all the credit. My mom taught me everything I know. I learned a lot from her.”
“She was a principal dancer, right? Your mom? Before she retired.”
Amber nodded. “She danced professionally for fifteen years. Everyone said the ballet company was sad to see her go but she wanted to have me and settle down. I’m here anyway so I guess she continues her legacy through me.”
“Lucky,” Lexi said. She flashed a close-lipped smile.
Amber thought back to lessons with her mother. She may have been enrolled at the theatre since she could remember but her mom had been her first contact with ballet. Those mornings of dancing around the kitchen had transitioned to balance training then barre and positions then pointe. Over the years, the soft commands and gentle guiding hands had become high expectations, reprimands for wrong steps, her mom’s sharp eyes seeing it all.
She was lucky, she supposed. To have the opportunity of studying dance under a legend like her mother. Her mind flashed to the day Director Meusall had been at her home. Her mother’s barbs echoed in her echoes, dredging a hole in her chest.
Lexi was right.
She was lucky.
But her luck hadn’t been meant to last forever.
“Your mother is back home.”
Amber raised her head at the voice. Dottie stood at the door to her bedroom. “She wants to see you in the studio in ten minutes.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Dottie.”
The door closed soundlessly behind her and Amber exhaled a soft breath. She looked down at the open journal, her inspiration hanging in the air then disappearing completely. She closed the notebook, pushed up from her reading desk and stashed it in the closet, making sure it was covered in its hiding spot.
With another sigh and a wipe of her palms against her jeans, Amber changed into her dance fit. She chose a blue leotard that matched her eyes and black tights. She picked a pair of pointe shoes she had dyed blue a while back. Since pointes came in a light pink, they were mostly dyed different colors to match the dancer’s skin or the costume of choice. Finally, she snatched a ribbon from her dresser and wrestled her hair into a simple bun, apologizing to the locks and silently promising to give them extra attention on wash day.
In the ballet studio, Amber moved to the barre to begin her warmup. The exercises were essential for every dancer. It loosened up the muscles and joints in preparation to dance. Amber liked to imagine stretching sent tiny nodes to her muscles to get them into work mode. The first few times she had attempted to skip warmup first, she had been sore all over and fighting strain in her calves. Now, she dutifully did her stretches and had a regular exercise routine to keep her body primed and ready for dance at all times.
Her mother walked in, the click clack of her shoes announcing her entrance. Amber eased out of her splits and faced her. “Hi, mom.”
“Amber.” She did a slow sweep of her frame. “How was school?”
“Good.” There was no other acceptable answer.
“And practice?”
