Chaos Choreography
Page 73
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Malena’s glare could have melted metal. “I didn’t sign up to play the bait in your little crusade.”
“No one signed on for this ‘little crusade,’ Malena. People are dying, and we’re trying to stop it.” A bong sounded, signaling the first couple to take the stage. “If you and Pax are eliminated, they’re not going to know what hit them. I still hope that doesn’t happen. I’d much rather have the two of you helping us track down our killers. Either way, I’m hoping no one dies tonight.”
“You know, when I came here, I was just hoping for a shot at the big money,” grumbled Malena. “I’m coming up on my twenty-sixth birthday. It’s time to start thinking about having kids. That’ll be a lot easier if I can actually afford them.”
“I think we all came here for that,” I said. “I know Poppy and Chaz didn’t sign up because they were hoping to get their throats slit.”
Malena looked at me gravely. “Do you think we’re going to be able to stop this?”
“Honestly, Malena, I don’t know. But we’re going to do the best we can.” That’s all we could ever do, and all my family had ever done: the best that we could. It was a real pity that even our best had never been enough to keep everyone we cared about alive.
The rest of the show passed with the kind of speed found only in tense situations and anxiety dreams. Anders and I danced our quickstep with as much enthusiasm as we could muster, but I knew I was letting him down; I was too worried about what might happen after elimination to focus on my energy and my connection with my partner. The judges knew it, too. Getting criticized and warned about potentially being in the bottom next week was painful. Having Clint look at me like I had personally disappointed him was worse.
At least I had stayed on the beat and kept my feet moving. Maybe I’d put myself in danger, but Anders should be safe. And maybe if I kept telling myself that, the universe would take pity on me and somehow make it true.
Brenna called the six dancers in danger back to the center of the stage after the last couple finished. The rest of us moved to stand in the space between the judging platform and the audience, still in our costumes. The nervous energy rolling off the group was palpable. I was struck once again by how simple this had all seemed once, how blissfully removed from the world I’d grown up in. The last time I’d been standing here, I’d been thinking only about winning, proving I was America’s Dancer of Choice, and that I could have a life beyond the one my blood had fated for me.
Now I was worried about whether two of the people up on that stage were going to survive the night. I was worried about the fact that of the three contestants who knew about the deaths, two of them had their heads on the chopping block. If Malena and Pax were both eliminated, and we didn’t catch the killers before the theater closed for the night, I was going to be the only person left who knew what was going on and had free, unfettered access to the building.
Brenna and the judges had been speaking while I fretted over the future. Now she turned to them, and said, “Well, Adrian? Please don’t leave us in suspense any longer, my heart can’t take it.” Neither could the dancers who stood beside her, their hands locked together and their faces set in near-matching expressions of grim stoicism. There could be no crying or visible distress: the two who survived tonight’s elimination would need votes to stay on the show, and the public didn’t respond well to the idea that someone was a sore loser, no matter how untrue it was.
Please, Adrian, I thought. Just get it over with.
Adrian leaned forward. “Well, Brenna, we’ve discussed it, and our decision tonight is unanimous. The girl who’ll be leaving us tonight is . . . Leanne.”
Leanne pulled her hands away from the other two, covering her face. Now that she’d lost, she was allowed to show how crushed she was.
I didn’t really know her. I didn’t know how much of her heartbreak was real, and how much was a careful affectation, designed to appeal to the audience, in case there was a miracle that might get her back on the show. It had happened before. Right now, it didn’t matter, because she’d just been cut, and I grieved for her, even as I was grateful Malena would be staying.
“All right, Malena and Raisa, you can leave the stage.” Brenna put her arms around Leanne, giving the girl a hug that lasted just long enough for the other two dancers to make it down into the pit. Then Brenna let her go, waving her toward the wings, and walked over to where the three boys in danger waited.
The same drama played out in slow motion for the second time: the brief critique by the judges, Brenna’s plea that they get it over with, and finally, Adrian’s verdict.
“No one signed on for this ‘little crusade,’ Malena. People are dying, and we’re trying to stop it.” A bong sounded, signaling the first couple to take the stage. “If you and Pax are eliminated, they’re not going to know what hit them. I still hope that doesn’t happen. I’d much rather have the two of you helping us track down our killers. Either way, I’m hoping no one dies tonight.”
“You know, when I came here, I was just hoping for a shot at the big money,” grumbled Malena. “I’m coming up on my twenty-sixth birthday. It’s time to start thinking about having kids. That’ll be a lot easier if I can actually afford them.”
“I think we all came here for that,” I said. “I know Poppy and Chaz didn’t sign up because they were hoping to get their throats slit.”
Malena looked at me gravely. “Do you think we’re going to be able to stop this?”
“Honestly, Malena, I don’t know. But we’re going to do the best we can.” That’s all we could ever do, and all my family had ever done: the best that we could. It was a real pity that even our best had never been enough to keep everyone we cared about alive.
The rest of the show passed with the kind of speed found only in tense situations and anxiety dreams. Anders and I danced our quickstep with as much enthusiasm as we could muster, but I knew I was letting him down; I was too worried about what might happen after elimination to focus on my energy and my connection with my partner. The judges knew it, too. Getting criticized and warned about potentially being in the bottom next week was painful. Having Clint look at me like I had personally disappointed him was worse.
At least I had stayed on the beat and kept my feet moving. Maybe I’d put myself in danger, but Anders should be safe. And maybe if I kept telling myself that, the universe would take pity on me and somehow make it true.
Brenna called the six dancers in danger back to the center of the stage after the last couple finished. The rest of us moved to stand in the space between the judging platform and the audience, still in our costumes. The nervous energy rolling off the group was palpable. I was struck once again by how simple this had all seemed once, how blissfully removed from the world I’d grown up in. The last time I’d been standing here, I’d been thinking only about winning, proving I was America’s Dancer of Choice, and that I could have a life beyond the one my blood had fated for me.
Now I was worried about whether two of the people up on that stage were going to survive the night. I was worried about the fact that of the three contestants who knew about the deaths, two of them had their heads on the chopping block. If Malena and Pax were both eliminated, and we didn’t catch the killers before the theater closed for the night, I was going to be the only person left who knew what was going on and had free, unfettered access to the building.
Brenna and the judges had been speaking while I fretted over the future. Now she turned to them, and said, “Well, Adrian? Please don’t leave us in suspense any longer, my heart can’t take it.” Neither could the dancers who stood beside her, their hands locked together and their faces set in near-matching expressions of grim stoicism. There could be no crying or visible distress: the two who survived tonight’s elimination would need votes to stay on the show, and the public didn’t respond well to the idea that someone was a sore loser, no matter how untrue it was.
Please, Adrian, I thought. Just get it over with.
Adrian leaned forward. “Well, Brenna, we’ve discussed it, and our decision tonight is unanimous. The girl who’ll be leaving us tonight is . . . Leanne.”
Leanne pulled her hands away from the other two, covering her face. Now that she’d lost, she was allowed to show how crushed she was.
I didn’t really know her. I didn’t know how much of her heartbreak was real, and how much was a careful affectation, designed to appeal to the audience, in case there was a miracle that might get her back on the show. It had happened before. Right now, it didn’t matter, because she’d just been cut, and I grieved for her, even as I was grateful Malena would be staying.
“All right, Malena and Raisa, you can leave the stage.” Brenna put her arms around Leanne, giving the girl a hug that lasted just long enough for the other two dancers to make it down into the pit. Then Brenna let her go, waving her toward the wings, and walked over to where the three boys in danger waited.
The same drama played out in slow motion for the second time: the brief critique by the judges, Brenna’s plea that they get it over with, and finally, Adrian’s verdict.
