Breaking Big by Penny Draper Read Free Book Online Page B

it?” she asks, as if I’m not there. “I hate dancing with amateurs.”
    “Give the boy a chance,” replies Mr. Acton. “You had a first time too, remember.”
    “Yes, but I wasn’t as green as this,” Peaseblossom retorts.
    “Nor were you sixteen years old,” says Mr. Acton sharply. “Take your place. Now.”
    Puck doesn’t really have any pas de deux sections, thank goodness, but there are a couple of small lifts. I’m trying to remember what Mr. Colson said about hand placement, weight and balance, but the music isn’t giving me time, so in the end I just grab Peaseblossom and heft her up. It’s only a waist-high lift, not a biggie, and I think I’m pretty smooth, but all of a sudden Peaseblossom yelps.
    “Let go of me!”
    I practically drop her.
    “You oaf! Bellamy, this isn’t going to work! Look what he’s done to me!” Peaseblossom pulls her top out of her tights, baring her waist. “Ten perfect bruises—on the very first lift! That’s a newbie mistake. Bellamy, he’s not ready!”
    Well, thanks for all the support , I feel like saying. No way you’ve got ten bruises two seconds after I let go . But I did forget to cup my hands. I know I didn’t do it right, but honestly, I’ve only had two classes on lifts! Give me a break.
    By the end of the day I’m so tired I can hardly see straight, but Mr. Acton decides to let me go back into the regular rehearsal for some general practice. And I’m glad. I don’t want to worry about the choreography or the character or who’s going to be my next guinea pig. I just want to dance.
    Finally, Mr. Acton says, “That will be enough for today, everyone. Thank you very much.”
    As we pack up our stuff, I hear Peaseblossom and Titania talking quietly. “Yeah, but he’s a great mover,” says Titania.
    I know what that means. You say somebody’s a great mover when they have natural talent, but it’s not trained. It’s an insult made to sound like praise. Trouble is, being a natural isn’t enough anymore.
    After showering, I grab a sandwich from the cafeteria and take it into the rehearsal room with the DVD player. Not allowed, but I couldn’t care less. As I eat, I watch the DVD over and over. I promised them I would work all day and all night, and I will.

Ten
    Rick’s exhausted and Mr. Acton’s frustrated. They say I’m trying too hard, but I don’t understand what they mean. How can you try too hard? The one thing I know for sure is that I hate dance. And this dance school. I’m seriously wishing I could wreck my ankle too.
    Opening night is less than a week away. Maybe I could starve myself and drop from exhaustion. The fish sticks and mashed potatoes on my dinner tray look disgusting, but Mr. Acton says I have to eat, that I’m losing weight. I haven’t had time to go to the gym—I haven’t had time to do anything —but he says I have to make time to eat. But I can’t—it’s too gross. I push my tray away, grab my cell phone and head for the park.
    “Hey, Mom,” I say.
    “What’s wrong?”
    How is it that moms always know? “Just tired.”
    “I haven’t heard from you in ages, and that’s a sure sign you’re pushing yourself. You’ll be no good onstage if you’re exhausted, Robin.”
    Yeah, but exhaustion isn’t what I’m worried about.
    “After you phoned to say you were actually dancing, I called everybody in the family! We’ve all got tickets now. Aunt Sally, Uncle Harry, your cousins, Melissa—remember your old babysitter?—my friend Martha, her husband…”
    Mom goes on and on. How do I break in and tell her I’m quitting? That I’m no good, that I can’t cut it as a dancer? That everybody hates me?
    “Mom, hang on a minute, there’s something…”
    “And we’ve all decided to book rooms at that swanky hotel near the theater, I can’t remember the name offhand. It’s expensive, but it’s not every day your boy has his debut, is it?”
    “Mom, wait…”
    “Do you know what your costume looks