One Perfect Pirouette Read Free Page A

there’s going to be a special class to train for the NBS audition?’
    Mum said nothing and I glanced at her. Her face was pink. ‘You did know!’
    â€˜Yes, I think it was mentioned in the information.’
    Which meant she knew everything and hadn’t told me. ‘I need that class! Why didn’t you tell me?’
    â€˜It’s a bit soon, Brynnie. It’s probably not necessary.’
    Suddenly, I could see the dollar signs flashing above her head. ‘You mean we can’t afford another class.’
    â€˜No.’ Her hands gripped the steering wheel harder. ‘I’ m sorry.’
    â€˜I’ll get a job, then. Delivering newspapers or something.’
    â€˜You’re too young.’
    â€˜I’m not,’ I said, folding my arms. ‘There’re lots of jobs I could do. I just have to look around.’
    â€˜You don’t need that class!’ she snapped. ‘All you need is the determination and the passion. You know you’ve got the talent. Mrs Calzotti told you that before we came down here.’
    She hit the brakes hard at the corner of our street and muttered under her breath. Mum didn’t often get mad with me, but she was now and I wasn’t sure why. She was always quoting those two words at me – ‘determination’ and ‘passion’ – like they were a magic spell. If they were, how come they’d never worked for her? Dad told me once that she’d nearly made it into the women’s basketball team for the 1988 Olympics. Nearly. I often wondered what had happened.
    As we pulled into our driveway, there was a loud bang and a grinding noise. ‘Oh god, what was that?’ Mum backed up, wrenched her door open and leapt out. ‘Tam!’ she bellowed. ‘Get out here now!’ That was her five-seconds-or-else voice.
    Tam came running. ‘Mum! Look what you’ve done!’
    Tam’s bike lay in front of the car, its wheel bent upwards and the seat half off. Mum’s face turned a darker shade of red. ‘How many times have I told you to put your bike in the garage? It serves you right.’
    â€˜How am I going to get to school without it? We’ll have to get it fixed,’ he whined.
    â€˜You’ll have to get it fixed,’ Mum said. ‘I’ve got no money to pay for it, and it was your own fault.’
    Tam glared at me. ‘We’ve only got no money because of her’.
    â€˜That’s enough,’ Mum snapped. ‘Even if I could afford it, I’d still make you pay for it.’
    â€˜Where am I supposed to get the money from?’ he said.
    â€˜Get a job!’ Mum stalked inside and he yanked his bike up.
    â€˜It’s all your fault,’ he said to me. ‘There’s not even anywhere decent to ride my bike around this dump.’ He threw the bike into the back of the garage and stormed inside. I went to check out the bike and the wheel was totally mangled – he’d have to buy a new one. I ran my fingers over the huge scratches in the paint. Tam loved this bike. I used to spend hours watching him and his mates doing jumping stunts at the park. Every time one of them fell off, they’d all laugh like maniacs and get straight back on again. He had no one to ride with here, and now he didn’t have a bike either. I sighed, and went into the house.
    Lunch was sandwiches and everyone else had already eaten. I munched my peanut-butter-on-wholegrain at the table and drew on my notepad while I thought. How come Tam was told to get a job, but I wasn’t allowed? Just because he was older, it didn’t mean he’d have a better chance than me. Things were different here in the city. There were tons of jobs I could do – dog walking, babysitting, delivering stuff – I’d find something first and then I’d tell Mum.
    In the meantime, I had to find out more about the intensive class and I had a million hours of