Abigail: Through the Looking Glass Read online

  I feel shivery inside. What is she talking about? I work harder than anyone else here. I do everything I can to be the best. What more does she expect of me? I haven’t got anything else to give.

  Back in my room, I stare at my reflection. What if I get chubby like Paige used to be? Maybe she was programmed to be fat as a kid and thin as an adult, and I’m the opposite. Mum was once as slim as me, and look at the size of her now. Miss Raine’s right. My body is a mess. Anger flashes through me like electricity and I kick out at the mirror. There’s a loud crack.

  Suddenly I really, really want my dad. He knows nothing about ballet, and yet he can be so comforting. Mum would be telling me to train harder, do better. But Dad would just give me a huge cuddle. For the first time ever, I wish I was at home with him instead of here at the Academy. And just the fact that I wish that makes me feel sad.

  Paige is coming to visit for the whole weekend. I’ve spent the week thinking up ballet stuff we can do, and now she’s here. I wave to Mum’s car as it disappears and then turn to Paige. She makes our old quotation marks sign.

  ‘Virtual hug,’ she says.

  ‘Back at you,’ I reply.

  It’s great to have her here – I’m looking forward to spending time with someone who really knows me. As we walk towards the Academy entrance, I feel light on my feet and I can’t stop smiling.

  Paige is looking great. She’s come a long way from the days when we all called her Podgy Paige. In those days, I was the slim one and she was the one who was going to take after Mum. An image of my reflection in the mirror flashes into my mind, and I block it out.

  ‘Hey there’s this really good pilates class on tomorrow morning,’ I tell her. ‘It’s at seven. Do you want to come?’

  ‘Do I have to?’ she asks.

  I laugh as we walk on.

  ‘So I booked the studio for us,’ I tell her. ‘It’ll be good for you to practise for your audition.’

  ‘I don’t want to be a dancer any more,’ Paige states.

  I stare at her.

  ‘What? You’ve always wanted to be a dancer.’

  ‘I want to be a rhythmic gymnast instead,’ she says.

  Suddenly her face lights up and she rushes towards the end of the wharf. Kat, Sammy and Tara are standing there, and Sammy and Tara are each holding a paper boat. The boats are decorated with flowers and incense sticks, and each contains one of Sammy’s pointe shoes.

  Paige is hugging Kat. A real hug, not a virtual one.

  ‘Little sister, Abigail?’ Sammy asks, looking at me.

  ‘Younger sister,’ says Paige before I can reply.

  ‘Well,’ says Kat, ‘you have just made it in time for the cremation of Samuel Lieberman’s hated pointe shoes.’

  I don’t want to share Paige with them – she’s only just arrived. I just want my sister to myself for a while.

  ‘Actually we were just about to go to the studio,’ I say.

  But Paige is glaring at me.

  ‘Abigail, it’s a funeral!’

  It’s her first day here and I don’t want us to fight, so we stay. Sammy says a few words and then sends his pointe shoes bobbing out towards the harbour. Everyone looks sad. It’s kind of sweet, in a weird sort of way.

  ‘You gotta hope they don’t choke a pelican,’ says Kat, and the mood is broken.

  I wake up feeling happy. I’ve planned so many amazing things for Paige, and I feel as if I’m holding armfuls of presents to give to her. I can’t wait to see her reaction when I tell her what I’ve lined up.

  ‘I’ve organised for us to watch the Company take class,’ I tell her, ‘and then a tour of the Opera House.’

  ‘I can hardly wait,’ says Paige.

  She doesn’t seem as enthusiastic as I’d expected.

  ‘Want to come to the studio now and stretch with me?’ I ask her.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ Paige says.

  ‘You’ll never be a gymnast if you don’t stretch,’ I warn her, trying to keep the mood light.

  Paige flops back down onto her bed.

  ‘Did I say gymnast?’ she says. ‘I meant journalist. They don’t stretch.’

  When I arrive at the cafeteria, Paige is with Kat and Sammy.

  ‘We’re going to Luna Park,’ she says at once.

  My heart sinks. Doesn’t Paige want to hang out with me?

  ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ asks Kat. ‘Paige was crying child abuse that she’s never been.’

  I find my voice and try to hold it steady, which is really hard. I can feel tears pricking the insides of my eyes.

  ‘Actually, I’ve put a lot of work into planning this weekend and Luna Park wasn’t–’

  Paige isn’t even listening.

  ‘I can Paige-sit if you want to stay here,’ Kat says to me.

  ‘That’s not what I said,’ I reply quickly.

  It feels as if she’s trying to steal my sister. She gets to hang out with her brother whenever she likes, but it’s ages since I’ve seen Paige. All I want is to spend time with my sister – why can’t they understand that?

  Luna Park is way more fun than I expected. I win a huge toy dog at a sideshow and give it to Paige.

  ‘Virtual hug,’ I say, making the quotation mark sign.

  ‘Back at you,’ says Paige.

  As we head off to the next ride, I feel more relaxed than I have for ages. Paige links her arm through Sammy’s. She’s already one of the gang, but for once, so am I. They have no idea how new this feels.

  Sammy finds a funny mirror that extends him lengthways. Paige is looking at a mirror made of ripples. She leans in and puckers her lips.

  ‘Hey Sammy,’ she calls.

  Is she flirting?

  On the ferry back, the feeling of being part of something has died. Paige is trying to force Sammy to try some of her fairy floss.

  ‘No thanks,’ he says.

  ‘Go on,’ she insists.

  ‘He doesn’t want any, Paige,’ I tell her, trying to bring her to her senses. ‘It’s full of processed sugar and if you don’t want to go back to being Podge you shouldn’t have any either.’

  Her jaw tightens in that stubborn way she’s had since she was a little girl. Can’t she see that I’m just trying to help her?

  ‘Abigail, it’s fine,’ says Sammy.

  ‘Don’t be polite,’ I say. ‘She’s been acting inappropriately all day.’

  I remember her puckering up her lips in the mirror and looking at Sammy. Paige has gone red.

  ‘Oooh big word,’ she says in her mocking little voice. ‘You know, Dad used to call Abigail “Night Light” … because she’s not too bright.’

  She seems determined to humiliate me. I’ve just got to let it wash over me – like Dad always says. But it’s hard when I’ve been planning this for ages and now she’s the one unravelling it.

  Things only get worse when we leave the ferry, and it all comes to a head in the middle of Circular Quay. Kat and Sammy head off – embarrassed by our bickering. As soon as they’ve gone I turn and glare at my sister.

  ‘I put a lot of time I don’t have into planning this weekend,’ I tell her. ‘You’ve completely ruined it.’

  ‘Big deal,’ Paige snaps. ‘You’ve ruined my whole life. We can’t go on holidays because Abigail has a concert. No chocolate ice-cream in the freezer because Abigail’s on a diet.’

  She’s being such a brat!

  ‘Like anyone needs chocolate ice-cream,’ I remark.

  ‘Mum moves us to Sydney to be near you, and you never even visit,’ she goes on.

  ‘I am at the National Academy of Dance,’ I remind her. ‘I have classes every day.’

  ‘Why is it always about you?’

  Where is this coming from? I don’t understand – it’s not fair. I’m not a monster, but Paige is acting as if she hates me.

  ‘Because you’re not special,’ I say. ‘You’re just a little girl – over-tired, over-stimulated and chock full of preservatives.’

&nbs
p; Paige’s eyes are full of hurt. I feel a pang of guilt.

  ‘Yeah, well just as long as I’m not like you,’ she shouts.

  I spin around and walk away, but I feel guilty almost as soon as I’ve done it. I stop and turn around. I hate it when I lose my temper.

  She’s gone.

  My world flips upside down, and so does my stomach.

  ‘Paige!’ I yell. ‘Paige!’

  There’s no sign of her. I walk on and pause beside a rubbish bin. On the top is the toy dog. I pick it up, my heart twisting in my chest. What have I done?

  I’ve searched the whole of Circular Quay, but Paige is nowhere to be seen. I’m finding it hard to breathe – and not just because I’ve been running. My whole body is tight with fear. Where has she gone?

  When we were younger, Paige was like my shadow. She thought everything I did was wonderful. And I just took it for granted – took her for granted. Why did I never realise how lucky I was to have her? To have a little sister who looked up to me, admired me? I just assumed she would always be like that, and now I’ve lost her … in more ways than one.

  I call Kat and tell her what’s happened. She’s amazingly calm and says she’ll check at the Academy. Hopefully Paige will have made her way back there.

  I search everywhere I can think of, but I can’t find Paige anywhere. If Kat had found her she would have called. I head back to the Academy, my stomach knotted with fear and worry. We’re going to have to do a proper search – maybe the others will help me. Or should I just call the police?

  They’re not in Kat’s room, so I head for Sammy’s. They’re all in here – Paige, Sammy, Kat and Christian – and they’re playing a board game! I’m caught between massive relief to see Paige and a horrible, gnawing hurt. There’s a huge lump in my throat.

  ‘Well, this is cosy,’ I manage to say. ‘So sorry to interrupt.’

  They all stare at me in alarm. I’ve caught them out.

  ‘We just got here!’ Sammy exclaims.

  If I stay here I’m going to burst into tears right in front of them. I turn and head for my room. I sit down on my bed and stare into space. My eyes won’t focus properly.

  The door opens and Paige walks in and I find my voice.

  ‘Did you and Kat plan that?’ I ask her. ‘Turn Abigail into a screaming, freaked-out mess.’

  ‘We didn’t plan anything,’ she says in a small voice.

  ‘Yes you did,’ I say, clipping my words. ‘And you know what? You did me a favour. Now I know you all hate me.’

  ‘Nobody hates you,’ she says.

  I don’t need to hear that pitying tone from my own sister.

  ‘Go barnacle yourself to Kat,’ I tell her.

  ‘Sammy really likes you, and you treat him like dirt,’ Paige goes on as if I haven’t spoken. ‘Mum and Dad love you so much we’re all split between two cities.’

  ‘Paige,’ I say. ‘Get out.’

  ‘Even I don’t,’ she continues. ‘Only you hate you.’

  I’m too tired to keep up the barriers any more. ‘I usually hate weekends but I really looked forward to this one,’ I say.

  Paige turns, pulls something out of her backpack and hands it to me. It’s a card. She’s obviously made it herself. On the front is a love heart and a drawing of me dancing. Inside is a drawing of us both, side by side, holding hands. I’m in a tutu and dance shoes, Paige is wearing gumboots and overalls. It says, ‘Thank You’.

  ‘I made it for you,’ she says, making the quotation mark sign. ‘Actual hug?’

  I know I have to think about everything Paige has said, but right now I just want things to be okay. I look at her, and she leans towards me. Our arms go around each other. I feel stiff and awkward, and I’m crying, but for now, it’s enough to make me feel better.

  CHAPTER 6

  Exams.

  My life is a world of exams. Academic exams. Dancing exams. My future depends on exams. And anyone who says that exams don’t matter can just stay away from me.

  The contemporary and classical exams go fine. The others bleat on about their stomachs and their fears, asking each other what happens to them when they get nervous, but I’m not listening. I’m focused. I’m in control. And I am first into the studio. It’s the pas de deux exam I’m worried about. And that’s why right now I’m standing outside a stinky toilet cubicle in the boys’ change room.

  ‘So for some unknown reason …’ I begin, ‘… maybe I killed someone in a past life … you’re my partner in the pas de deux exam.’

  ‘Abigail?’ says Sammy’s surprised voice. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘They’re obviously trying to challenge me, which is fine,’ I say, ‘but also completely unfair if it affects my scholarship chances.’

  The toilet flushes and Sammy emerges, looking bewildered.

  ‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘Exam stomach. Does that happen when you get nervous?’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘We clearly have a lot of work to do. And by “we” you do know I mean “you”, right?’

  I stare meaningfully at the sink until he catches on and goes over to wash his hands.

  ‘One on one?’ he asks. ‘Awesome. I have physiology on Wednesday but after that …’

  ‘I’ve booked the studio for every night this week,’ I tell him.

  ‘Right,’ he says, staring at me. ‘So I’ll just study instead of sleeping.’

  Now he’s getting the idea.

  I’m jogging along my usual route beside the harbour when I see Miss Raine ahead.

  ‘Abigail, it’s exam week,’ she says. ‘Shouldn’t you be conserving energy?’

  ‘I don’t think enough of us worry about cardio,’ I reply.

  Miss Raine keeps walking.

  ‘I wonder if that’s something the scholarship committee takes into account?’ I say, trying to steer the conversation towards my chances.

  ‘I wonder,’ she murmurs.

  I give up being subtle. Life’s too short.

  ‘Do you know if my name is on the shortlist?’ I ask. ‘It’s just … I’ve worked harder than anyone since day one.’

  ‘You have,’ Miss Raine agrees.

  I have a moment of elation before she adds, ‘There are other factors.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Abigail, you’re a smart dancer. You know there are certain limitations to your technique.’

  Her words are like arrows stabbing into me, but I keep my face expressionless.

  ‘I had them, too,’ she goes on. ‘Others have more natural potential. We have to work to the best of our ability, which you’ve been doing.’

  ‘But you’re saying it still might not be enough?’ I ask, not sure if I want to hear the answer.

  For a moment Miss Raine looks almost human.

  ‘Sometimes ballet can be as unfair as it is unforgiving,’ she says, ‘but in my experience hard work can overcome most obstacles.’

  She sweeps away, leaving me standing still.

  What Miss Raine said makes me so scared. It’s the most scared I’ve ever felt. Do I really have limitations that I can’t get beyond? I can still hear her words – it’s as if they’re echoing around me, jeering at me. Limitations. Limitations.

  It’s the pas de deux exam tomorrow. I’m so wired I could probably power the whole city. I have to push my body and make it do the things I tell it to do. I have to control everything that goes into my body and make it obey me absolutely.

  I want a final practice, but Sammy doesn’t seem to care that he has to work on his lift.

  ‘You sure you don’t want to take the night off?’ he asks. ‘You’re looking kind of tense.’

  ‘You’re telling me I look tense?’ I repeat in disbelief.

  I see alarm flash into his eyes. Am I that scary?

  ‘Tense and beautiful,’ he says. ‘Plus, realistically, there’s only so much work you can do–’

  ‘If they gave me a real partner I wouldn’t have to work so hard,’ I snap.

  I turn to go, but S
ammy follows me.

  ‘You know, misplaced anger is often a by-product of low blood sugar,’ he tells me. ‘When was the last time you ate something?’

  His voice is strangely far away and echoey.

  ‘My blood sugar is fine,’ I tell him. ‘My only problem is you.’

  I just need to be alone. I don’t know why I’m being so crabby. I walk out of his sight and stop. I feel a bit like I’m standing on the deck of a ship or something. Strange. I shake my head and keep walking, heading for the studio.

  I practise and practise and practise. If I work hard enough, I will get this right. I don’t know how long I have been working for when I look up and see Sammy in the doorway.

  I’m so happy to see him, it makes me feel weak. I could almost throw my arms around him!

  ‘I want to do well, too,’ he says. ‘I just don’t think there’s any point killing ourselves in the process.’–

  ‘That’s where you and I differ,’ I say, only halfjoking.

  We take our positions and begin to rehearse. I’m enjoying dancing with him tonight more than I have before. He’s focused and we’re working together better than usual. In fact, it feels as if we’re working together properly for the first time.

  Finally we get the shoulder lift right. It’s an incredible feeling – like having wings.

  ‘Yes!’ Sammy yells. ‘We got it! Awesome!’

  He twirls me around. I wriggle down to the ground – we haven’t mastered it yet.

  ‘We should do it again, straight away,’ I say. ‘Make sure it sticks.’

  I find myself swaying on the deck of a ship again.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Sammy asks.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say, but my voice is far away. ‘Just a bit dizzy. It passes.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ he asks, his tone of voice altering. ‘Does this happen often? Abigail, this could be serious!’

  ‘Stop procrastinating–’

  ‘Seriously – when was the last time you ate something?’ he asks.

  ‘I eat okay,’ I tell him.

  ‘Not this week,’ Sammy says. ‘I haven’t even seen you drink water.’

  ‘I’m not interested in being bloated,’ I state.

  ‘Your body needs fuel,’ he says. ‘You’d better see Dr Wicks.’