Calore Dance Academy// Red Queen AU

Chapter 16

Impulsive.

The word has clung to me since the moment I woke up in my hotel-like room, and clings to me still, over the bellowing music of the auditorium.

Lucas and I stopped at an office in charge of room management to get my key before heading up further to the tenth story. Then, my escort unlocked one of its cookie-cutter doors after walking down a hallway and turning. Handing me the key, he said a "good night," pulled the door shut after him, and left me to my own devices.

The room, which I cleaned somewhere along the line, was of little interest to me last night. I chose sleep, rather than exploring and unpacking, slumping into a generously-sized queen bed as soon as I got my shoes off. Its white sheets and pillows were too soft and its comforter too thick, even with the air conditioning.

This morning I bothered with unpacking, setting out my small collection of pharmacy-store toiletries on the bathroom counter and folding my clothes in a dresser. Even then, I didn't look at the appliances in the kitchen, which I'll have to buy food for; or out the window; or what channels were on the television in the living room.

Instead of watching TV, I went through my pointe exercises in the living room, pushing a chair out of my way. I showered and dragged myself out in search of breakfast. As much as I didn't want to, I had to eat.

After, I came here. To the auditorium.

Up several rows down the center are Cal, his father, and four hip hop teachers, heads tilted to decide the dancers' fates. I wouldn't know who they were if not for the lack of people surrounding the five, none ahead and none behind for several rows. The black hair of Cal and Tiberias blend right into the air.

The back doors are open, light pouring in. The theatre itself is less crowded than it was on Sunday, the hype of the auditions having died off. At best, a third of the seats are filled, and I'm glad I was able to find a spot without many around me. I still wear my cap as a precaution.

Today they're testing the hip hop dancers, each of their outfits straying wildly from the standard ballet uniform I wore to my performance. The girl currently onstage is all colors, wearing a pair of orange shoes, forest-green leggings, and a baggy violet jacket. They play music for the hip hop auditions, which I don't find particularly fair, though her dance is syncopated and fast compared to mine.

The beat is psychedelic and fun, and she has the audience—including me—clapping along. The girl sells her performance, flipping and jumping and twisting, bending her arms and legs in ways ballerinas never do. Her merry grin and ease of motion stir jealousy in me, and I promise myself I'll review some more modern dance this afternoon.

Auditions at the Academy are . . . unusual. There were all sorts of dancers out in the lobby when Ann and I walked past them on our way backstage, but this morning's auditions are strictly hip hop. I snatched a program from a stand by the doors to decipher their schedule, and it seems Sunday was reserved for hopeful newbies—who, turns out, have to be invited here to audition by the Academy's scouts—every two hours shifting from one genre to the next. Monday through Friday has been for veterans of the Academy, for teachers to review their students' progress and decide if they should be moved up—or in a rare case, demoted.

Monday was ballet, Tuesday was tap, Wednesday was contemporary with aerial silks at the end, Thursday was a mix of ballroom, and Friday is hip hop and jazz.

How much of the week have Cal and his family spent in here? Though I could never be sure, I doubt Cal knows anything about ballroom dancing or aerial silks. I stifle a laugh at the thought of seeing that. And though he's the Academy's owner, Tiberias can't be an expert in everything either. Elara's gone, and for all I know, Tiberias and his son are just sitting up there and watching with the actual hip hop teachers. As much as everything about this place intrigues me, I can't imagine spending six days straight trapped in an auditorium. The dances surely blur together.