RETURN TO SWAN LAKE

a novel by Gary Canup

Chapter 8

It was Thursday afternoon and Jan and Davy entered the foyer and Jan closed the door behind them.

"You sure your mom's not home?" he asked nervously.

"She said she'd be out the entire afternoon."

Davy had the feeling he was being smuggled in. "And you sure she doesn't mind me coming today?"

"I can have friends over," Jan insisted defiantly. "Besides, now that I have to practice so much, we haven't seen much of each other lately."

"Where's your dad?"

"In Europe on business. But he phoned me last night and said he's going to do everything in his power to be at my birthday party, and I think he'll make it this time. So we got the whole house to ourselves. Well, except for the staff, of course."

They were walking up the staircase.

"I thought your birthday was today."

"It is, but the party is Saturday night. By the way, you're invited."

"I am?"

"Of course you are."

"Oh, I don't know, Jan."

She stopped him in the middle of the staircase and looked alarmed. "What do you mean you don't know? You're not thinking about refusing, are you?"

At the only other birthday party he had ever attended, he and some dopey-looking boy with the flu had mostly just sat around in their monkey suits watching a bunch of giggling girls play "Pin the Tail on the Donkey," and he had felt like the donkey, stuck in the rump. He had not been to another party since. And this one was likely to be even worse, much worse: with Mother there and all her highfalutin guests, the boy knew he would feel painfully out of place. "I'm not a big one for parties," he admitted.

"Davy, you have to come. If you don't, I'll just die."

"I don't think your mother would want me there," he explained.

"I asked her and she said it was okay."

"She did?"

Jan nodded unconvincingly. "Please, Davy? For me?"

The boy sighed and thought it over. "Oh, all right."

"Oh, goodie!"

They resumed their trek up the staircase.

"How come we're going to the studio?"

"Mother wants me to practice some more this afternoon. I'm supposed to give a big performance at the party."

"What kind of performance?"

They entered the studio.

"Mother wants me to dance a solo number from Swan Lake."

She switched on the lights.

Davy had not seen the studio since his first visit when the room had been under chaotic construction, and his breath was quite taken away by the finished result. The floor was beautifully glossed and the room flawlessly painted. To their left a high mirror extended the entire width of the room, and a polished barre ran alongside it. The wall to their right was decorated with a long row of pictures of ballet dancers down through the ages. At the far end of the studio stood a curtained doorway flanked by speakers. The studio windows overlooked the verdurous backyard where a groundskeeper on a riding mower was cutting the lawn. Recalling how much of an eyesore the room had looked the last time he had seen it, Davy could not help but marvel over the transformation.

"Wow," he said, "the workmen really did a great job!"

"And in record time, too. Believe me, Mother had to crack the whip to make sure the project was finished before Saturday night."

"What's that curtained doorway lead to?"

"My dressing room."

"Cool," Davy said.

"Would you like to see it?"

"Sure."

"I'll race you."

She beat him into the dressing room and flicked on the lights and Davy gazed around. The long windowless interior betrayed the dressing room's origins as a walk-in closet. At the far end stood a frilly dressing table whose mirror was framed with light bulbs; a low-backed chair stood in front of the table, and piled on the chair were some of Jan's underthings, including — to Davy's amazement — a shallow-cupped brassiere. Numerous ballet costumes hung on a long rack. By the door stood a CD player and shelves of classical CDs. Davy squatted before the shelves and, tilting his head, studied the rows of multicolored spines printed with lengthy foreign-looking names together with such odd words as "overture," "philharmonic," and "opus."

"What, no rock and roll?"

"Mother won't let me listen to that."

"You mean you've never heard rock and roll?"

"I catch snatches of it here and there."

"What about the Beatles?"

"Who?"

"You mean you never even heard of the Beatles?"

"What are they, like cockroaches or something?"

But he could tell Jan was kidding him.

"Of course I've heard of them."

"They were my mom's favorite band when she was growing up. She thought Ringo was dreamy."

"Ringo. What a funny name."

"Funnier than," he glanced at one of the CDs, "Shostakovich?" he said, badly mispronouncing the name.

"Oh, much funnier."

"Hey, I just remembered something. I have a Beatles CD in my bike satchel. I was going to loan it to a kid but I forgot. Want me to go out and get it?"

"Sure," Jan said. "Say, would you like some cola? And how about some potato chips, too?"

"Sounds great," Davy said.

"I just had a wonderful idea, Davy. What do you say we have my real birthday party right now? Just you and me!"

"I thought you had to practice."

"Practice schmactice. To hell with it. Mother will never know the difference whether I practice today or not. All practice and no play makes Jan a dull girl, right? Let's party!"

"Well, if you don't think you'll get into trouble," Davy charged out of the studio and down the staircase. Jan dashed to the bannister of the gallery. "Hey, Edward! Yoo-hoo, Eddie!"

In a few moments the butler appeared in the foyer just as Davy was dashing by up the staircase with the CD. "Yes, Miss Summers?"

"Would you be so kind as to bring us up a couple of sodies, pretty please? And a bowl of potato chips too, okay, Eddie?"

"As you wish, Miss Summers."

Davy reentered the studio and handed the CD to Jan who relayed it to the CD player. Just as they were leaving the dressing room the first Beatles' song burst from the speakers and they began to dance. Davy was not much of a dancer but at this kind of dancing neither was Jan yet they could not have cared less as they laughed at each other's awkward gyrations. Edward brought in the refreshments and formally set up a small ornate table on which he placed a silver salver that held two crystal glasses of iced cola and a silver bowl of potato chips.

"Thanks, Eddie!" Jan shouted over the music.

The butler nodded formally and made his exit.

"That was a good one," Jan said, clapping her hands when the song was through. "I'm going to play it again!"

She did and they continued to dance.

"Me mother calls this jungle dancing. Looks down her nose at it. Calls it uncivilized. Un. Re. Fined." She raised her arms and gyrated out of control.

The next song began with a strong drum beat and the girl took off on a series of mock ballet leaps. "Look at me! I'm a bird, I'm a plane, I'm Super Jan!" her ankle buckled and she tumbled to the floor.

Davy was not looking. "Yeah yeah yeah," he was singing. "Yeah yeah yeah."

When finally he glanced up, he saw her sitting on the floor, holding her ankle and rocking back and forth, her face a distorted mask of pain.

Davy rushed to her side. "Jan, what's the matter?"

"I think I sprained my ankle, Davy."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, God! My mother is going to kill me. She is absolutely going to skin me alive. Now I won't be able to give the performance Saturday night. And I won't be able to audition for Madame Jenkins Sunday morning!"

"Should I run and get some ice from Edward?"

"It's no use, Davy. I'm dead. You are looking at a dead girl."

"Let me take the blame," Davy pleaded, nearly in tears. "She doesn't like me anyway. I can tell her it was my fault somehow."

"I can't let you take the fall for this."

"Please? Blame it all on me. Tell her I made you dance rock and roll or something like that. Tell her I forced you."

"You are so noble."

"Maybe it'll be all right by this weekend," he suggested hopefully.

"Yes. Or maybe it'll be all right, say, right now!" She leaped to her feet and danced around, laughing at him.

"Huh?" Davy said.

"Sucker!"

"You mean you were faking?"

"You are so naïve. You are such a gullible little boy!"

"Jan, your mother's not going to kill you, because I'm going to beat her to it."

"You'll have to catch me first."

She squealed as he began chasing her around the studio.

"Ha, ha, Davy cares about me!" she taunted over her shoulder as she fled.

"I do not!"

"Davy loves me!"

"I do not," he said.

"You were going to sacrifice yourself for me. You love me yeah yeah yeah!"

"I DO NOT!"

He caught her and they tumbled to the floor.

"Ha, ha, Davy wants to marry me and have kids!"

"No way!" he insisted. They playfully wrestled and Davy ended up on top of her. Her pupils were as large and dark as he had ever seen them and her cheeks were flushed. Just then she glanced at the doorway and her expression changed.

"Davy, get off of me," she hissed.

"Huh?"

"Get off of me! Now!"

Davy got off and they both stood up. He looked at the doorway. He saw her standing there, Mother, nodding with a kind of bitter triumph. She pointed towards the dressing room and mouthed something that they could not hear and Jan ran into the dressing room and took off the music. She emerged with a guilty expression.

"I expected that something like this would happen," Mother began, in the suddenly dead-silent studio. "Is this how you prepare for the most important audition of your life? Roughhousing with this urchin? I give you the freedom to practice on your own and this is how you respond? What did you do, phone him the moment I left?"

Jan lowered her eyes, and Davy wondered what an urchin was.

"Did I give you permission to call him?"

"No, ma'am."

"It is obvious that you are not as responsible and mature as you think. It is obvious that you are not as trustworthy as you would have me believe."

"Mother, did you set this whole thing up just to trap me?"

"Don't you use that tone of voice with me, young lady. I'm not the one guilty of deception here, you are, so don't try to shift the blame. You know I disapprove of that kind of music, if that's what you call it. And I certainly disapprove of you goofing off when you should be working." She turned to Davy. "I am sorry, young man, but you will have to leave. My daughter must practice for an important weekend."

Davy headed for the door.

"Bye, Davy," Jan called after him.

He waved sheepishly without looking at her.

"See you at the party Saturday night?"

He squeezed past an unmoving Mother and fled down the staircase and out the door. As soon as he had bicycled home, he looked up the word "urchin."