The Dance by Barbara Steiner Read Free Book Online Page B

windows was dim. What time was it? She glanced at her watch—three o’clock. Oh no! Quickly she called a cab. She didn’t feel much better, but if Madame Leona had enough confidence in her to make her part of the troupe, she should certainly not let a cold keep her from practice.
    The taxi took forever to get to her house. When she got to the Lafayette, she paid the cabbie, then dashed into the theater. Once downstairs, she paused in front of the studio door. She sneezed, wiped her nose with a bunch of Kleenex, then opened the door. She hoped, prayed, that Leona’s watchdog wouldn’t be on duty. No Frau Voska. Thank you, heavenly stars, she thought.
    Hank was at the bars with Laurie, Jean, Anne, and Janell, the last two girls still strangers to her, even though they’d been together for a week now. They hadn’t been friendly, left immediately after rehearsal. Melanie had made no overtures to get acquainted.
    Jean Whitney, nearest the door, saw her first. “Well, the teacher’s pet, here at last.” Jean tossed the wisecrack over her left shoulder to Laurie, but Melanie had no trouble hearing it. She ignored the greeting.
    Hank stopped stretching and hurried over to her.
    â€œHi, Hank.” Melanie started to cough. Just speaking irritated her throat.
    â€œYou don’t sound so hot.” Hank put her hand to Melanie’s forehead. It felt wonderfully cool. “You’ve got the crud, haven’t you?”
    Before Melanie could answer, Madame Leona appeared beside Hank. Melanie hadn’t heard her approaching in her soft slippers.
    She stood, tall, majestic, and beautiful, as usual. “You’re late, Melanie. But now that you’re here, change quickly.” As soon as she’d spoken to Melanie, smiling—Melanie had expected her to be angry—she frowned at Hank.
    The unspoken reprimand that Hank had broken warm-ups to speak to Melanie didn’t stop Hank from speaking. “Melanie’s sick, Madame Leona. She probably shouldn’t be here.”
    â€œSorry, Madame Leona.” Melanie apologized for being late, not for being sick. She wished Hank hadn’t mentioned it. She didn’t need Hank taking up for her. “It’s just a cold. I went home from school and fell asleep. I called a cab, but it was slow picking me up and even slower getting here. It’s still snowing and the streets are awful. But I can dance. I want to dance.”
    Madame Leona put a hand to Melanie’s cheek, softly brushing aside her hair. “You do feel hot. Go and change. I’ll have something for you that I think will help.”
    Melanie headed for the dressing room. On the way she looked back at Hank. She didn’t want Hank to think she didn’t appreciate her concern, but now that she was here, she was certainly going to rehearse. Hank had gone back to the bar without a wave. Melanie could smooth over any bad feelings later.
    Frau Voska sat “guarding” the dressing room instead of the front door. In her beefy arms she held Murmur, the house cat, creating an incongruous picture. Melanie smiled, but Voska’s eyes held a stern “you’re late” echo of Madame Leona’s words.
    She changed quickly, sneezed twice, then walked back onto the varnished wood floor of the studio. How was she going to dance with a Kleenex to her nose?
    She was startled to find Hank and Madame Leona by the tape deck in the middle of an argument. Melanie joined the loose circle of girls around the two. The audience included all but Nicol. Nicol stood beside Leona as if taking her side. Glancing around, Melanie spotted Frau Voska standing expressionless by the office door. She was still holding Murmur in her arms. The cat cuddled, and Melanie could imagine its contented purrs.
    â€œActually, Madame Leona, my body does what I want it to do, jewelry or not.” Hank’s hands, balled into fists, were placed on her hips.