Free Abigail: Nice Girls Finish Last by Bruno Bouchet Page A

still in our funeral clothes, carrying his funeral with us. Miss Raine addresses us. ‘Out of respect, the Prix de Fonteyn committee has decided to postpone the remaining sections ofthe competition for a week … And we’re cancelling our production of Peter Pan .’
    Suddenly I am angry. Why assemble us in the dance studio and tell us we can’t dance? It doesn’t make sense. I need things to make sense.
    â€˜He wasn’t even in it. So what are we doing here?’ I ask.
    Miss Raine says the school is still running classes but, ‘it’s up to you whether you feel like attending.’ Miss Raine making classes optional – this world is not right. I won’t have it. I need sense. She starts talking about grief counsellors but I don’t hear her.
    I move over to the barre , slip my heels off and begin doing pliés . I don’t care if I’m in a black dress. This is what we do in this room. This is what makes sense, the first exercise of any class. Tara joins me, then Kat, Ben, Christian and Ollie. Soon all the students are at the barre . Doing what we do. Doing what we have to do to get through this.
    That night, Tara sleeps in our room. Only she doesn’t sleep. She and Kat are pouring over the funeral, no detail too small to repeat constantly.
    â€˜A couple of prayers, some bad sandwiches,’ says Kat for the tenth time. ‘How can anyone expect that to give you closure?’
    â€˜Today just felt formal. Like it was for one Sammy. But not our Sammy,’ says Tara.
    Kat turns the light on and announces that we’ll hold our own memorial. ‘A proper Sammy Lieberman tribute’.
    Do they have to? How is anyone supposed to deal with this, when they won’t stop talking?
    â€˜Do you guys know what he would have wanted?’ Kat asks. I do, but I’m not torturing myself or them by obsessing.
    â€˜There’s no point dragging it out. That’s all anyone has done since it happened,’ I say.
    â€˜You’re bored of the grieving talk?’ Kat asks.
    â€˜It’s morbid.’
    Then her phone rings. It’s Ethan calling for the thousandth time to see if she’s okay.
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    The next day I’m in the studio practising. It’s what I would do. It’s what a normal day in the real world is. Miss Raine comes in and asks how long I’ve been there but I can’t tell her.
    â€˜The fact you’ve cancelled Peter Pan doesn’t mean I have an interest in sacrificing technique.’
    â€˜In that case, Sydney Dance is doing a regional tour over Christmas. Rafael’s asked to see some third years who didn’t get contracts, but I thought maybe you …’
    I stop. ‘Yes. I’d love to audition.’
    â€˜It is tomorrow, so if that’s too soon’
    â€˜Tomorrow’s perfect,’ I say. And a tour would be perfect. A chance to be a real dancer. Something to focus on.
    I finish my practice and head to my room to pack. After the audition, they’ll want to go straight away. I don’t have any time to waste, I need to be ready. I’m pushing clothes into my suitcase when my mother comes in.
    â€˜Packing already?’ she asks as if I’m presuming too much.
    â€˜You don’t think I’m better than the third years?’
    â€˜Of course I do. You have had a big knock though sweetheart. Maybe, right now, you should be …’
    Not her too. I take more leotards from my wardrobe and put them in my case.
    â€˜â€¦ sobbing on the bathroom tiles? History dictates you should be pleased I have my priorities back in order, mother.’
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    The next day, Rafael Bonachela, the artistic director of Sydney Dance Company is waiting for me in the rehearsal studio. There’s a male dancer there too. This is a huge break. A chance to tour with Sydney Dance Company, perform with people who are really talented. It makes Peter Pan seem like child’s play. Rafael