Free Skin and Bones by Sherry Shahan Page A

problem,” he said.
    “You ready?” she asked.
    “Yeah.”
    Bones hit record and watched through the viewfinder in wonderment and admiration as she defied the laws of physics. Her spine was straight as a shish kabob skewer, but when she bent her knees, she appeared to grow taller.
    “ Pliés ,” she explained the exercise. “Think of ballet as a play, but instead of learning lines, I memorize steps. I still have to act though, only as a dancer I use my whole body.”
    Bones thought about her actor parents. “Has your mom or dad been in any movies I’d know?” he asked, still filming.
    “They’re not famous, if that’s what you mean. Except for being temperamental. Yelling and screaming to get their way or perfecting the cold shoulder. More of a cliché than a stereotype.”
    Alice balanced easily on one foot. “In ballet the audience sees one thing—the dancer. But they hear something else—the music.” Her free foot made quick little flicks. “ Dégagés ,” she said.
    Bones squinted through the lens. “Sounds like a foreign language.”
    “It means to disengage. Like this, see? My foot releases from the floor. The terms are French, like the kiss.”
    Bones was grateful to be behind the camera. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention. And it was definitely getting his attention below the waist.
    “The audience brings its own energy, and that creates a whole new message,” she said breathlessly, rising on her toes and turning gracefully. “I’m not just training to be a ballerina—I’m training my body to do whatever’s asked of it.”
    Bones was lost in the sweat on her exquisitely sweating body. He was jealous of her sweat. He wanted to be her sweat. Even through the viewfinder he could see her ribcage pressing against her leotard like a musical instrument. He wanted to play her long into the night.
    “What’s going on in here?”
    Bones nearly dropped the camera, turning to see Unibrow’s massive head plugging the doorway.
    Alice faced the brute, hands on defiant hips. “Did you even knock?”
    “No exercising until—”
    “I’m not exercising.” She cut him off with a glare that could take down a gladiator. “I’m rehearsing.”
    “Not without permission from Dr. Chu.” Unibrow glared right back. He was nothing but a no-neck jerk who thought he was better than them because he went home at night and slept on his own grimy sheets. “You know the rules better than anyone.”
    With that he left.
    “I’d be so out of here if I had someplace to go.” Alice worked pins from her bun, shaking out a tumble of strawberry blond. “The upcoming audition—that’s my ticket.” She poked his shoulder. “Come on, let’s look at the video.”
    They sat side by side on the bed, her head tilted close to his. Escaped strands of hair brushed against him. It was amazing , more amazing than anything he’d ever felt. He watched her eighty-something pound presence on the screen. It was everywhere at once. “Amazing.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me I was looking down?” She scolded him in such a way he had to sit on his hands to keep from shoving her backward on the bed and kissing her face. “That totally messes up my alignment. And look at that lousy extension.”
    Bones leaned in closer.
    “I was lifting my hip during the grand battements . Even a three-year-old knows the hip is a ball and joint socket. It shouldn’t move just because I raise my leg. All those days stuck in ICU and that stupid wheelchair.” She sighed, pushing the envelope of impatience. “God, it’s like I’m starting over.”
    He had to say it. “I think you look amazing.”
    And there was that smile again.
    “Most people don’t realize how strong ballerinas are because we look so fragile.” She snapped the screen closed. “But we have to be strong, really strong, and I’m not just talking about physical strength. It takes a different kind of stamina to listen to someone scream at you hour after