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“It’s beautiful,” I told him. “Who brought this one?”
The receptionist laughed nervously, shrugging as he said, “Some gentleman. He’s seen your performance I take it. Congratulations, Miss Granger. It was truly out of this world. I was so impressed by your dancing. We get to peek in during the performances.”
“Thank you,” I replied with a bright smile, my attention already elsewhere. “You can put the rose on my dressing table if you’d like.”
I turned my back on him and sauntered back towards the rest of the cast.
A mere few hours ago, I was Harlow Granger, the girl next door who was always living from month to month, barely covering her expenses to pursue a stupid dream. And now, with the ballet behind me, I was someone. A beautiful, talented dancer with nothing but a bright future ahead.
Madame was gone by the time my attention snapped back, and my lips pursed in annoyance. She was supposed to be by my side, apologizing profusely for letting the agent get away. Hopefully, she had gone to try and convince them to give me another shot. The Great Russian Ballet had always been a dream of mine, and I wanted desperately to be a part of it.
Still, it was near impossible to put a dampener on my mood. I was excited, the adrenaline rush from the ballet still coursing through my veins. And my girls’ spirit was the same. The room was filled with giggling and excited laughter, and someone started passing around cigarettes even though they were strictly forbidden in the dressing rooms. I stared at the cancer stick when it reached me, wondering whether I should do it, break my rules for once and have some fun.
I took a long drag on the cigarette, and my friend Amber lost it when I started choking the next second. The smoke was thick and cloying, and I stuck my tongue out with the unpleasantness of it.
“This is horrible!” I announced. “I don’t know how you can stand it.”
“It keeps you skinny,” Amber grinned wide, taking a long drag herself. She was my age, eighteen – but much more experienced.
We spent the next several hours in the dressing rooms. There was nowhere I would have wanted to be but in the company of people who’d worked with me on the ballet. It had been such a fantastic success, and I wanted the feeling of being loved to last a lifetime.
“I have to get home,” Amber said at a quarter to three in the morning.
“Nooo,” I whined. “Please stay a little while longer.”
“I have work tomorrow,” she said apologetically. “You know I’m happy for you, Harlow, but I have to work. You’ll get an offer tomorrow, I’m sure of it. But for me…” She shrugged sadly. “You know I’m just an understudy. I didn’t even get to dance tonight. I have to keep going, keep trying until I finally make it.”
“I understand,” I mumbled, flushing lightly and suddenly feeling embarrassed about the way I’d acted.
I gave Amber a quick embrace and promised to call her with any news and developments the next day.
I felt sorry for her, knowing that I’d gotten off lucky because Madame wanted to teach me herself, only accepting the paltry sum I made as a waitress for my training. I’d treated her too harshly too, but I’d just been too excited to worry about anyone else.
“I’ll see you soon,” I called after her, and Amber waved me off as she disappeared down the hallway and into the cold, snowy night.
There were only a couple of girls left, and we started passing around a bottle of Becherovka, a Czech drink one of the understudies had pinched from her parents. She told us the whole story, and I found myself giggling over her antics while pretending to like the sharp, cinnamon flavor. It was disgusting, but it was the first drink I’d ever had, and I wanted to savor it.
The girls started dropping like flies, leaving one by one until I was begging Carina, the last girl around, to stay until we finished the bottle. But she was adamant – she had to go home. She’d danced as Clara that night, technically a more significant role than my own Sugarplum Fairy, but everyone in the theater knew I’d outshined her.
Still, I didn’t want her to leave. It would mean the night would be over, and I’d have to head home myself. It was time to let the magical evening go.
I said goodbye to Carina with tears in my eyes and sat down on a chair in front of the giant lit up mirror as she gathered her things and left. My reflection stared back at me as I reached for the makeup remover, lathering a cotton wool pad with cleansing milk and wiping away at my face. My lashes came off, then the lipstick. The thick paints, foundation, blusher, mascara, everything off, revealing my porcelain pale skin underneath, scattered with freckles. I wasn’t drop dead stunning, but I consoled myself that all that mattered was that I was a dancer. My body and the things it could do made up for my too-turned-up nose, my too-full lips and my too-hooded eyes. At least my lashes were thick and dark, and I had decent eyebrows to go with my blonde hair. Most of the other girls had to pencil theirs in.
