The Candace Clique

Chapter Two

Anastasia tied her hair in a neat bun, applying minimal make up as she was at it. She gave herself a smile before pulling on a sweater over her ballet uniform, pulling her ballet bag over her shoulder and marching down stairs.

“Hey, sweetheart!” Barbara called out from the recliner, a cigarette already lit up in between her two long, slender fingers, “have you eaten breakfast?”

Ana smiled, despite the gagging feeling she got when the smell of smoke hit her nasal passage, “Yes, Mom.”

“Where are you headed to?” Barbara fired, taking a long drag on her lit up stick.

Her daughter shifted her weight on one foot, “Ballet practice—Mom, I better get going, I might get late.”

Barbara waved her fingers dismissively. Ana watched the smoke swivel up the air until it disappeared before she pushed the front doors open, walking down to the nearest subway.

“And a five, six, seven, eight,” the teacher called out, clapping her hands distractedly at the same time, mimicking the beat of the rhythm booming through the speakers above them. Ms. Milodanovich roamed the studio, scrutinizing the ballerinas who were doing the assigned warm up on the barres, “and plié, tendu, arabesque, face the barre, grand battement, pas de bourré,” she clapped her hands once more as she bulleted ballet positions to the air, stopping beside Anastasia as she extended her leg to the side, “yes, my dear,” she remarked in heavily accented Russian, “extend your arm with your leg,” she held up a thin finger, guiding Ana’s arms until it perfectly matched her pointe clad feet, “perfect.”

Ana smiled at her instructor before retracting her leg in a retire devant before spinning around the barre and exchanging the elevated leg from right to left, doing the exact same exercise with the left leg.

“Alright, my ballerinas!” Mia Milodanovich chirped, as she clapped twice, signalling the end of the ballet practice, “You have all done good. You may now go.” Anastasia was ready to cross the wooden double doors when Mia called her out, “Ana, please stay for a while.”

Anastasia nodded, watching as the flock of ballerinas exited the room and waltz straight into their dressing rooms. Unhooking her face towel from the barre, she gracefully headed to where Mia was sitting cross legged, “Yes, Miss?”

Her instructor smiled up at her before standing up and crossing to the far table. Mia pulled a drawer, revealing an unopened pack of Malboro. Does everyone I know just start smoking out of the blue? Anastasia thought to herself, wrinkling her button nose in disgust as the smell of the smoke wafted through her nostrils. Mia took hold of a glass of what looked like whiskey and heaved it up the air to offer Anastasia some, “Alcohol?”

The ballerina shook her head, “No, thank you.”

Mia shrugged, taking a swig of her whiskey while simultaneously taking a drag from her Malboro, “Do you have any idea why I asked you to stay?”

Ana shook her head, digging the toe of her pointes on the wooden floor of the glass-walled studio, “No, Miss.”

Ms. Milodanovich placed a delicate finger under her chin, the raspy voice of the Russian instructor resonating through the air, “You have got so much potential, Anastasia.”

She smiled, a bit fazed by how much adoration was being showered down on her. The instructor dropped her finger, circling Anastasia as if she was some kind of crime scene she was investigating, “Do you do anything else doing your past time, Mllaya Moyna?”

“I write,” replied Ana, fiddling with her fingers.

Mia raised a pencil drawn eyebrow, “Oh? What kinds of work do you write?”

“I usually use my writing as a way of expressing myself, Miss,” Anastasia stated, “if I find myself having trouble in discussing some issue with people, I write them down. And, eventually, it turns into a book.”

The Russian ballerina stopped in her pace, standing directly in front of her best student, taking a swig of her golden drink before saying, “Do you ever get some of your writings published?”

Anastasia shook her head, her eyes drifting down to her tutu, Oh, how I wish, “Unfortunately, no, I don’t.”

Mia smiled, “I’ll give you a bargain, if I may.”

The other girl nodded, offering up a small smile. Mia continued, “I will publish you books,” she stated, unmistakably making her student squeal silently in delight, “I have a few friends down at Simon and Schuster’s, maybe they can help,” she pursed her lips, taking another drag of her cigarette, casting a smile down at Anastasia’s beaming smile, “but,” she countered, holding up her index finger, “you’ll have to go under my training, and mine alone,” Anastasia opened her mouth but closed it once she found out she didn’t know what to say. The teacher smiled, “and once I think that you are ready, I will have you competing in different countries.”

Ana’s jaw dropped, her dainty hands flying to her mouth in surprise, “Are you serious?”

The Russian woman’s lips formed into a thin line, but nonetheless her eyes were shining, “Do I look like I’m fooling around, Ms. Cortez?”

The girl dropped her gaze, “No, ma’am.”

“So, what do you say?” Mia said softly, opening her arms as if to say Take it, or leave it. “A favour for a favour.”

You’re crazy if you don’t take that bargain, Cortez, a voice in Ana’s head countered. Smiling, Anastasia replied with an “I’ll take it, Ms. Milodanovich.”

Anastasia dashed to the dressing room, falling down a work out bench just beside a gigantic mirror. Patricia, one of Anastasia’s friends in her ballet school looked up at her while pulling on a shirt, “Hey, An?”

“Yeap?” Anastasia chirped, sliding on her glasses and untying her pointe shoes.

“Do you want to join us down by the bistro a few blocks down the road?” Patricia sang, pushing her feet down her baby blue Converse.

Anastasia pulled out her tutu, pulling on a pair of shorts, “I can’t, Ish, I have a book to finish.”