Silhouette Read Free Page B

performance.
    ‘What about you, Scarlett?’ asks Izzy, as I slip into a seat. ‘How’s your solo coming along?’
    I look across at Paige. ‘Yeah … actually, I’m pretty happy with it so far.’ She returns my gaze with a slight nod.
    Izzy groans and f lops dramatically in her seat. ‘Gawd, Scarlett, I hate you so much …’
    ‘Thanks, Izz.’ I grin. ‘I hate you too.’
    The conversation stays on the grad performance for the rest of the meal and moves to exams during the ads before the movie. Talking only stops once we’ve been shushed a few times.
    ‘Anyone for a coffee?’ asks Grant when we’re all standing around outside after the movie.
    Izzy nods, while Tadpole does his usual thumbs up. ‘I’d kill for an espresso,’ he says.
    Everyone turns to me and Paige as we exchange a look. Paige shakes her head slightly and I’m glad that even Tadpole isn’t enough to keep her out this late.
    We say goodbye and head for the buses. Suddenly there are no distractions between now and the audition tomorrow.
    ‘I’ve checked the timetable. We can catch the 9.35 train straight to the MPG Studios,’ Paige says once we’re nearly at the stop. ‘It’ll make us a bit early.’
    ‘Great.’ I hug myself against the breeze. ‘So we’ll meet on the steps at, what … a bit before nine-thirty?’
    ‘Yeah. What are you going to tell your mum?’
    I shrug. ‘That I’m hanging out with you. It’s not even a lie.’
    We’re quiet for a while after that, but I feel the excitement coming from Paige as she rocks from one foot to the other. After a while she stops. ‘Man, I feel sick.’
    ‘Having second thoughts?’
    ‘No way.’ She tilts her head and the corners of her mouth curl up. ‘What about you?’
    ‘Nope.’ I grin back. ‘I can’t believe we haven’t tried this before.’

THREE
    It takes us ages to reach building six at MPG Studios, not because we get lost but because the place is so big. We walk in silence and at speed, not wanting to look out of place even though we feel it. I’m aware of Paige’s contained energy beside me, but it’s not until she touches my shoulder and points that my heart really kicks into gear.
    Ahead of us is a building with a massive ‘6’ at the top. A figure with the unmistakable poise of a dancer stands beside a wide door, smoking. We’re close enough for Paige to grimace at the smell. I know what she’s thinking. How can any dancer do that when her body is her whole life?
    It’s not just that she’s smoking but the relaxed way she holds it. Hiding it from teachers or parents is the last thing on her mind.
    Of course it is. We’re all adults here.
    Inside we follow a ‘Registration’ sign down the hall to a wide carpeted space. Paige tugs my arm and I follow her to a guy wearing a headset and sitting behind a table. With a hand on either side of her registration form, she holds it out like a sacred offering. I squash my lips together as the guy scans down, flips a page. I brace myself for … I’m not sure what. Something that will give us away. Somehow he’ll see that we’re not meant to be here.
    But we’re given numbers just like everyone else. Paige is sixty-one and I’m sixty-two. The audition had been a stunt. But now, it’s real.
    We find a space, slip off our street shoes and begin warming up. It feels good to stretch out the tension, move my body through the nerves. Beside us, a woman in black raises her leg to the side and I immediately register details about her turnout, flexibility, extension. A simple backwards arch from someone else shows solid core strength and good expression. In only a few minutes I have a snapshot of all the talent in my sightline.
    When I next glance at Paige, she raises her eyebrows and mouths, They’re good . She’s been doing the same as me.
    I mouth back, Fuuuuuck! just to make her laugh. She does, and I’m glad to see her shoulders relax, her eyes crinkle. I’m only half-joking, though. I hope we’re not