Baker Boy

Chapter Nine

The two noises that annoyed Andy the most were currently irritating her. She knew that it could not be helped, but Andy simply could not stand the scratch of pen on paper or anyone clicking their pens.

Casillith was scribbling at near-superhuman speed at the desk on her left while Julia alternated between clicking her pen and tapping it against any hard surfaces near her. She was so tempted to have a fit and flip the table.

When the test was finally over, she was ready to leap out of her seat and murder the both of them. However, McKayla grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to wardrobe for a costume fitting.

"Gosh, I really want to sit down right now," Andy whined, shaking out her stiff legs. "How long have we been here?" she asked.

Althaia Artino pretended not to hear her as she added another insufferable pin into the dress.

"Why is it taking so long?" complained Andy, trying her best to remain deathly still.

"Because someone didn't have new measurements taken," McKayla chided in a singsong tone.

McKayla sat on a stool in the corner of the packed room. Her dresses hung on the rack along with the other Cinderella costumes. Intricate props and headpieces filled the shelves, most almost complete.

"I did last week," argued Andy, shifting in the heavy blue skirts of the most elaborate dress. "I was here, wasn't I, Mrs Artino?"

Althaia clicked her tongue, making notes in a chewed-up notebook. "I think you need to visit the school's nutritionist. You've lost weight since our last fitting."

"You need to stop starving yourself," McKayla insisted.

Andy huffed. "I am not." She crossed her arms, regretting her actions immediately.

"McKayla Vitali, if you won't be quiet and allow me to finish my work without Adrianne getting herself stabbed, I suggest you leave."

"Sorry, Mrs Artino," mumbled McKayla.

Principal Kensington was in a terrible mood – and McKayla and Andy being late was not helping. He was on edge and ready to snap. He was yelling at everyone and taking out his frustration on the dancers.

"No, no, no! Stop!" He stormed into the centre, breaking Andy and the pageboy apart.

William Harvey, a dancer from the year below Andy's had taken a lot of heavy fire that afternoon. William was feeling slightly under the weather and was finding it hard to concentrate. He was bleary eyed and constantly sniffling.

The sickness was fogging up his mind, making it harder for him to concentrate. He was not working at his full potential, but he was trying his best. Unfortunately, that resulted in a whole lot of shouting from Richard Kensington.

"I want this," Principal Kensington did a complicated series of steps. "But you're giving me this." He did something that was almost the same.

Andy frowned, but kept her mouth shut. Her conscience wanted her to step in and intervene on his behalf, but she was too scared.

"I'm sorry, sir," said William, looking down and allowing his curly copper hair to fall in his face.

"Look around, my boy, everyone here can dance, anyone can take your solo, not to mention the fact that your understudy is in rehearsal right now. Tell me, how badly do you want this?"

"Terribly, sir," William trembled slightly.

"Again!" ordered Principal Kensington with a wave of his hand.

Will launched into the difficult line of jumps and turns, his powerful muscles moving fluidly as he leapt into the air repeatedly. The room held a collective breath as William sank onto a knee and presented Andy with the invitation letters.

His mouth was parted slightly and his chest heaving from the effort. William's pale, freckled face looked almost lifeless and Andy looked to Richard Kensington, her eyes asking him whether they should go on.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked.

Andy snapped onto pointe, playing out her character.

"More! Offer more!" the principal yelled.

Smiling even wider, Andy expressed her excitement with a handful of little jumps and sharp movements.

"Push yourself! I don't want to see Adrianne, I was to see Cinderella!" he commanded passionately.

Andy finished the turns and ended in time with the pianist, but Principal Kensington simply waved her off.

"That was good," commented Ethan as they waited at the side.

William Hawley approached them, clearing his throat. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said.

Andy stretched her leg out on the barre. "No, not at all."

"I'm sorry for wasting your time back there."

"No one gets it right the first time," Ethan placed a hand on Will's shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up too much."

"You're almost there anyway," added Andy. "You're a fantastic dancer."

"Thanks guys." William smiled.

"See you around, Will," said Ethan.

After rehearsal, Andy had to rush off to work. Students were pouring in to study for their finals over a cup of coffee. For Andy, that meant multi-tasking. She had her notes laminated and spread out on the countertop and she read them as she made lattes and teas for the students.

"So, which character are you again?" Andy asked Deacon as she washed up.

Deacon shrugged. "One of the courtesans at the party, and the Prince's right hand man."

"Which cast?"

"Cast two," he answered. "I heard you're in cast one."

"Yeah, I'm stoked."

With a polite nod, Deacon excused himself to serve another customer. Andy went back to reading her notes.

When the students finally left for the night, Deacon suggested a food fight with the ingredients that were about to go bad. Andy started screaming when he broke out the chocolate sauce that was about to expire.

"You'll have to clean up if you get anything dirty," she warned, crouched in the corner.

"That's too bad for you then, because I'm only aiming for you." He pouted, and then squirted the sauce into her hair.

Snarling, she flicked the gooey chocolate onto Deacon's white shirt. The sauce landed in flecks and marred his clean shirt. Andy then proceeded to head-butt him and smeared more sauce onto him.

"Andy!" he objected.

"You started it!" She was just happy that the floors and counters were still clean. Then a bunch of red cans caught her attention.

"Oh it is on," said Deacon as she armed herself with the expired whipped cream.

It took Andy a good half-hour to get all the condiments out of her hair and off her body. Even after her long shower, she still felt sticky.

Then clock read fifteen to twelve as she satdown and cracked open her textbook. Her brain was moaning, refusing to absorbanything as she crammed late into the night it would take a miracle for her towake up tomorrow morning.