Calore Dance Academy// Red Queen AU

Chapter 35

Note that I made a minor change to Mare and Cal's first contemporary lesson. In hindsight, their first lift being over Cal's head seems rather drastic, so I've changed it to something more simple. (ch 32) No need to check it out, barely anything changed. 

As always, like, COMMMENT, and follow @Natthefantastic for important Calore Dance Academy updates. You're missing out! (wink wink)

Do watch the above video. Enjoy, friends! 

<><><>

"So I have this idea."

I don't look up toward Cal as I pick at the knotted ribbon of my pointe shoe. My right foot's already free, but my other foot is thoroughly trapped in satin.

After my trip to Central Park with Maven, I returned to the Academy alone, put on some dancing clothes, and tied up my pointe shoes so that I could rehearse Giselle in Julian's studio. Apparently distracted by fresh memories of my brother laughing at me—although he had heard the story of my fall from Ann before, Shade thought it was extra-funny coming from the victim herself—I forgot all about how tight to knot my shoes.

"What's your idea, Cal?" At the same time, I pat my head, hoping to find a stray bobby pin somewhere within my hair. Sure enough, my fingers hit a tiny bar of steel just above my ear. I fish it out and stab the ribbons with it.

If I were to look up, I'd find Cal in his fold-up chair, notebook on his lap and crooked grin on his lips. Instead, I ignore him and shimmy my pin into the center of the knot.

The knot comes undone when I pull, and in the next second, I'm undoing my laces and throwing my other pointe shoe behind me. I already have socks on, since I decided earlier that it was a no-tights kind of day.

"Every time we have a lesson, I get to ask you a question, and you get to ask me a question."

With no pointe shoes on my feet, I have no choice but to look up to Cal once I've tucked my pin back into my hair. I lean back on my palms, studying my contemporary teacher. His inky hair's stuck to his forehead again, and sometime during my struggle against my pointe shoe, Cal lowered himself from his chair to sit on the stage. His notebook's still at his lap, though, and he dons a subdued grin as he glances between it and me.

I'm tempted to tell Cal that he doesn't need a designated time and place to ask me things nor does he have an allotment of questions. There's nothing stopping him from asking me about my life, my hobbies, my family, my . . . whatever. It's only my decision whether I answer his questions or not.

But he knows that. He also knows that he can get more out of me with a single, meaningful question than with little snippets of small-talk throughout the night.

"Okay," I say after a moment, finding no real reason to argue with him. "I assume you already have a question in mind?"

Because I have to know what kind of game I'm playing, he's going first. I stare at the wooden floorboards, the seamless lines where one plank meets another, the tiny scratches and marks from years of dancing. All at once, I find a dozen questions in them and none at all. Some are too personal, others are too vague and thoughtless, and I come up with nothing in between.

"You seem happy today. Why?"

Well, that's just vague and deep. As usual, Cal's hit a mark. A moment ago, he probably saw the reminiscent smile that I couldn't keep off my face as I picked away at my pointe shoe. I haven't been able to stop thinking about Shade all afternoon, and those giddy, happy thoughts are enough to cancel out the annoyance of being here.