Masquerade Ballet

Five

A/N: I finally finished an update! *throws glitter* Honestly, I really like this one. I think it will be well received, and I hope y'all like it. Wish Marinette luck, huh? Also I started reading this book, Challenger Deep, by Neal Shusterman. I highly recommend it; it's mind blowing and super fascinating with absolutely brilliant writing style. Anywho, here's the update!

I nearly screamed. 

I, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, was Ladybug. 

Quickly skimming through the rest of the email, I figured out my schedule for the rest of the day. I had Technique 6 at three, then at five I was to be in technique rehersal with lines one, three, and five, because I would be performing the variations they learned with them, then at six I had a costume fitting, and from six-thirty to eight-thirty I had rehearsal with Chat Noir. 

Glancing at my phone, I saw that it was nearly one, meaning I had about an hour and a half until we had to leave. Suddenly wide awake, any thoughts of taking a nap or drinking another coffee were far from my mind. I could not think of anything except rehearsal. 

I was Ladybug. Somebody needed to pinch me or something, Because I was fairly sure I was delusional from the lack of sleep. 

The hour passed quickly, filled with desperately throwing things in my dance bag, rushing around searching for bobby pins, and pulling on a leotard and tights. Screwing the cap on my water bottle and throwing it in my dance bag, I rushed down the stairs and threw myself into the pink convertible. My mom was not quite as excited as I was, because it was probably another three and a half minutes before she slipped into the car and slid the key into the ignition. Suddenly time was crawling far too slowly for my taste, and I swore my mom was hesitating on purpose. 

"Little over excited, aren't we?" she asked, looking over at me and getting herself into Parisian traffic. 

"No, not at all," I responded, checking the appearance of my bun in the side mirror. 

"You're not convincing me honey." 

"Just excited, that's all." 

She let the subject drop, keeping her eyes on the road. I twiddeled my fingers nervously, wondering what I could expect. Who was Chat Noir? What would our choreography be like? Could I keep the secret? What would my costume be like? Still the minutes dragged on, despite my racing thoughts.

I just wanted to get to the studio. 

When I finally got there, a stream of other students flooded the doors, making the theatre look less like an artistic center and more like a public highschool. Waving goodbye to my mom as I stepped out of the car, I joined the throng of other dancers. 

"Excuse me, pardon me, sorry," I apologized as I wove through the crowd. Once inside, I rushed to the classroom and quickly put on my canvas shoes and adjusted my pink legwarmers and wrap around sweater. Standing up, I stretched quickly, then headed into the classroom. 

One mindnumbing barré later, it was time for centre, my favorite part of class. The sweater was now long gone, leaving me to sweat in my high-necked black leotard. I was desperately trying to ignore the sweat rolling down my back and forehead. The fan in the corner was merely stirring the air around, the metal blades clunking against the cage. The pianist started playing in the corner, (we were fairly old fashioned when it came to music,) and my group began petité allegro, our feet moving faster than our brains could keep up. It was this point, always, when I struggled to remember the combination, that I wondered why I even liked ballet. 

Then I remembered the thrill of being in stage, performing in front of hundreds every night, watching the awe on the audience's faces. I remembered the excitement of getting new costumes, the lace, the sequins, and the ribbon making each person someone totally different. Ballet was more than hours upon hours of training, but we couldn't do anything without it, so I pushed through pain, sweat, and quite I few tears for a few hours on stage. 

It was always worth it in the end. 

When class let out I changed into my pointe shoes and gulped down half of the water in my water bottle before going back into class. We started learning the variation right away; this was the opening number when the Muses were given their supernatural powers; Chat Noir and Ladybug would be townspeople like the rest of the dancers on stage, singled out later to perform a duet. 

The music was fun and playful, showing hints of a market or perhaps a town square. The choreography wasn't hard, nor was it easy. The steps weren't difficult to do, but the sequence they were put in made it feel like we were relearning everything. We, of course, weren't given spots, but I did try to take notice of the people dancing in the group. I recognized Adrien, Alya, the pixie like girl Rose, Rose's friend Juleka, and Chloé and her lackey Sabrina. 

I did not like Chloé, and she did not like me. I might try and like her if she was a decent person and wasn't there simply because her father was the mayor. I didn't care that she was rich; it was the fact that she didn't try during class. She just stood there and gossiped with Sabrina, who was burdened with knowing the combinations for both of them. 

We were told to stand in a line and we were separated into four groups to run the variation. I was put in the same group as Chloé, which meant I had no break from her, even if it was for only thirty seconds. To add to my misery, Adrien was in a different group, and judging by the sultry glances that Chloé had been broadcasting to him, I was going to hear a lot of chatter between Chloé and Sabrina about how hot he was. 

I had to admit, Adrien was cute, don't get me wrong. He seemed nice too, but I was there to dance, not to dawdle over the newest male addition to our show. 

When it was my group's turn, I stepped confidently to the front and center of the studio, taking my starting position. Alya shot me a thumbs up from the side, ignoring the looks of contempt from Chloé and Sabrina. The music started and I was instantly moving, this time making sure I performed the steps to technical perfection, knowing that style came when I was familiar with the variation and familiarity was going to take some time.  I piquéd, pliéd, and souiteéd my way through the combination, praying to anyone listening that I would get the combination right. Standing front and center meant that all eyes were most likely on you, and that could swing to the positive or the negative very quickly. I finished with a flourish and a smile, Then quickly darted away to the side, slipping beside Alya. 

"Girl, that was fantastic," she whispered, eyes twinkling.

I shot her an appreciative smile, then turned to watch the final group. They were clean and sophisticated despite the fact that most of us were only fifteen and sixteen. Usually we were overlooked when it came to large roles in shows; after all, adults were usually better suited for leads, they had far more training than any of us. But The Masked Muses called for teenagers, not just for the leads, but for the whole cast. I didn't know why, but the original choreographers made it that way, and it wasn't our place to change it. 

We were dismissed a few minutes later, leaving us to scramble outside before our next classes or costume fittings. I could hear Chloé's grating voice from down the hall, cackling as she untied her shoes. Sabrina laughed diligently, but I could help but feel bad for her. She was stuck with Chloé and only Chloé for a friend, how must that feel? 

Shaking the thoughts from my head, I quickly mopped my forehead with my sweater, then skittered down the hall to the "backstage" hallway where anything not performed was made. Sets; costumes; light repair; makeup; literally anything that wasn't dancing. Ducking into the sewing room, I breathed in the scent of fabric. 

It was time for me to be fitted for a costume.