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

kisses me on both cheeks. So European.
    â€˜Thanks for coming in. I imagine it’s a difficult time,’ he says.
    â€˜No, I’m thrilled to be auditioning. I have a solo to show you,’ I say and hand my CD of music to him. When the music starts I have a second’s doubt, that I’m not going to be able to do this, but the music urges me. I dance. Dancing is such an escape, I don’t want to ever stop.
    When I finish, Rafael seems pleased. He asks me to partner with Richard, the dancer he brought with him. ‘You’d be working with him on the tour.’
    Richard puts his hand on my waist. There’s a confidence in the way he moves. He’s not afraid to touch me, not like Sammy was. I’ve never danced with someone so good. He anticipates my every move, knows exactly where he should be. He holds me, lifts me. I don’t doubt for a second he’ll catch me. He’s perfect. I’m not used to perfect. Suddenly all I can think about is Sammy and his clumsy fumblingand I can’t believe I’ll never have to put up with it again. I can’t believe that it’s what I want more than anything in the world. How can I be so stupid as to want that? Why did Rafael do this to me?
    â€˜Is there a problem?’ he asks and turns the music off.
    â€˜Yes. Why would you make me dance with someone so good?’
    I’m not prepared for that. How could I be when I learned the basics with a crap partner.
    â€˜Everyone wants to talk about how amazing he was but he wasn’t. He was indescribably terrible. As a pas de deux partner. And as a boyfriend. And then he got his own boyfriend. And then he kissed me. And then he died.’ Suddenly tears are streaming down my face. ‘What sort of a person does that?’ I’m angry. More furious than I’ve ever been before. I run from the room. Mum’s outside. She catches me and holds onto me as I cry so hard I can hardly get the words, ‘I hate him, I hate him so much’ out.
    The audition is over, I can’t go on tour. All I can do is cry. I cry with my mother for hours. Washing away my fury one tear at a time until there are no tears left and the anger’s gone. Instead I’m just sad. Sammy’s gone. No amount of practice can make this perfect. I have to deal with this.
    After the storm of tears, I finally begin to feel some sense of calm. Nothing could ever replace that clumsy boy, and I don’t want anything to. Mum wants to stay with me in my room, but I tell her go. I need to be with Sammy’s friends. My friends.
    I find them in the sitting room. They’ve been trying to organise his memorial, trying to sum him up on a whiteboard of plans. They’ve got nowhere. Tara, Kat, Ben, Christian and Ollie are all there, frustrated, exhausted, lost.
    â€˜I know what he wanted,’ I say. ‘He told me. Energy drink incident. He thought he was going into cardiac arrest.’ They smile, recognising their Sammy.
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    We gather before dawn on the beach around a bonfire. It’s cold, we need blankets to keep warm. We’ve got his favourite lemon poppyseed cake and a big picture of him smiling pegged to the sand. We surround ourselves with candles in bags, creating a circle. Just before we start, Kat sees someone coming in the distance. Ethan. For all Kat telling him she was fine, he didn’t believe her and came home. Timing was always his strong point, he should be here.
    I share a blanket with Tara, her face is drained and her eyes dry as she stares into the fire. Her hand clutches mine, needing to hold onto something as Christian begins to read out Sammy’s list of 50 things he wanted to accomplish in life. It’s the most I’ve ever heard Christian speak. His voice cracks with pain. I can see how hard this is for him, but nothing’s going to stop him leading our tribute. The list is pure Sammy: funny, moving, stupid, annoying, heart warming. We all