Phantom's Dance

  When I stepped through the apartment door, Mom appeared out of nowhere. “What was that about?”

  “He asked me out,” I replied, and I knew I had a cheesy grin on my face.

  “He asked you out?”

  “Don’t sound so shocked.” I slipped my dance bag off my shoulder and headed toward my room.

  “I didn’t mean it like that, honey.” She tagged close behind me. “It’s, well, we haven’t talked much about—”

  “Dating?” I finished her sentence as she sat on the edge of my bed. “We don’t talk about much of anything—other than ballet.”

  “Christine,” she chided, “I’m trying to talk to you now. Would you sit down?”

  I dropped my bag on the floor, exhaled audibly, and settled into my desk chair.

  “My point is we don’t really know this boy. Who is he?”

  “Oh, that. Well, like I said, his uncle is a trustee, he plays football, and his father lives here in Templeton Towers.”

  “His father lives in the Towers?” she said and paused. “I don’t know, Chris, maybe we should talk to your father about this.”

  Now she wanted to talk to Dad!

  “Mom, I’ve already told him I’d go.” She hesitated, and I pressed on. “I promise I’ll tell you where we’re going, and I’ll even check in—if you want me to.”

  She was about to speak when the doorbell rang. “We’re not done here,” she remarked and left the room to answer it.

  I heard the door swing open, and her voice carried down the hall. “Hey, Cooper. I’m glad you were still at the office. Come on in?” It was her office assistant. She’d evidently left something at work. Maybe he would keep her occupied while I shot an email to Dad. It was a preemptive strike. And if the email didn’t work, I’d call him and beg.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I took my time with the email. I needed Dad to understand how important this was to me. Norway was seven hours ahead of us. It was the middle of the night for him, so it would be tomorrow morning before I’d get a response. When it came down to it, I couldn’t see either one of them telling me no. I was almost eighteen and they should be happy I was going out with a guy that practically lived in the same building, not to mention his family was connected to the Rousseau Ballet.

  After I’d hit SEND I logged into the school website to do some homework and noticed Jenna was online, so I shot her an IM.

  You there?

  Yeppers

  You’ll never guess what happened!

  ???

  Raoul asked me out

  Who?

  Football guy. he was in the lobby when i got home

  No way!

  Yeah! can you believe it

  So you going?

  Of course i’m going

  But your mom?

  My text alert went off then, interrupting my IM response, so I plucked my phone from my dance bag. I didn’t recognize the number, but the message made it clear who it was and my heart skipped a beat.

  I forgot to give you my number. Save it to your phone.

  Quickly, I saved Raoul’s phone number to my contacts and replied.

  Got it!

  My response seemed lame, but I didn’t know what else to say. Then my IM alert sounded.

  You still there??

  Yeah, but he’s texting me right now

  Cool. Call me later

  Then Jenna logged off.

  My text alert chimed again.

  Hi

  He wants to talk. He wants to talk to me! I responded,

  Hey

  How long have you lived in the Towers? He asked.

  Two years.

  Why haven’t I seen you?

  Don’t know. I saw you.

  Yeah? When?

  Last summer by the pool.

  Why didn’t you say hi?

  I didn’t want to answer that question, so I shifted to something else.

  What position do you play?

  Quarterback

  Though I knew little about football, I did know the quarterback was the star of the show.

  So you’re football’s principal dancer.

  Are you calling me a prima donna?

  A smiley face followed the question, but I didn’t bother explaining that prima donnas were in opera not in ballet because I knew what he meant.

  You didn’t answer my question.

  What question?

  Why didn’t you say hi at the pool last year? We could’ve gone out already.

  My heart did a flip-flop. We could have gone out already? I gave myself a mental head-butt for not mustering the courage to talk to him back then.

  You were with a girl and some other guys. I thought she might be your girlfriend. I didn’t want to be the chick who broke up your relationship.

  I couldn’t believe how bold and confident I sounded, as though it were a given that he would choose me. I supposed it was easier to be sexy in a text because he couldn’t see how I paced the floor and sweated abundantly.

  That was my sister. She’s in college now.

  Inwardly, I breathed a sigh of relief. I so did not want him to say she was his girlfriend. Then something dawned on me.

  Now I get it.

  Get what?

  Your snake tattoo. It’s a diamondback—for the football team.

  The second I’d hit Send, that moment when the text couldn’t be stopped, I realized what I’d done, what I’d just admitted.

  So, you really were checking me out.

  I hammered my fist into my forehead. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This was why I didn’t date. I can’t seem to do it right. Now he was going to think me a lecher.

  That’s not fair. You’ve seen me in my swimsuit but I’ve never seen you in yours.

  His comment made me tingle all over. I was disappointed when he said,

  I have to go. Dinner with my mother.

  K. See you later.

  Falling onto my back, I lay staring at the ceiling, feeling warm and fuzzy. I was going out with a football player. Who would have ever thought it?

  Eventually, I gave up my daydreaming and dragged myself to my desk to do homework. But it was impossible to concentrate. I had to tell Marisol, so I pulled up my contacts and called her. She smiled when her face appeared on my laptop screen. Her lip wasn’t as swollen and a scab had formed over the cut.

  “What’s up, chica?” she asked.

  “You’re not going to believe this. You know the football thing I told you about?”

  She nodded.

  “One of the players asked me out.”

  “Shut up!”

  “Yeah, and get this—his dad lives in my building.” I blabbered on for a solid fifteen minutes, giving her every detail, some twice. I even read her some of the texts and told her how I’d inadvertently confessed to staring at the tattoo on his back.

  “Wow, I’ve never seen you this excited over a boy.”

  A giggle turned snort erupted from me. “I know, right. But he’s different. He’s really nice.”

  “Your mom’s letting you go out with him?”

  “She hasn’t exactly said yes, but she hasn’t said no either. If she does say no, I’m going to call Dad.”

  I reached up and loosened my hair from its confines, shook it out, and wrapped the strays behind my ears, and said, “Mar, what if he wants to you know—I don’t—I’ve never—”

  “Put out?” she supplied.

  “Jeez, Marisol, some people think of it a tad more romantically than that.”

  “I’m sorry. I guess I’ve been hanging around Carlos’s friends too much. But we’ve talked about this. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But if you wanted to—” her voice trailed off teasingly.

  “Marisol! I haven’t even gone on a first date with him.”

  “Don’t worry about it so much. If you do you’ll be so tense the guy will think you’re weird.”

  “Thanks for the encouragement.”

  “You should just ha
ve fun. Don’t worry about anything else right now.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “Marisol, have you seen my soccer shorts?” Marisol’s younger sister, Inez, had entered the room, and I could see her behind Marisol, searching through her sister’s things.

  “I gotta go,” Marisol said. “I ripped Inez’s shorts and she’s not gonna be happy.”

  “Wish me luck.”

  “You don’t need luck, momma. You got this. And get some pics. I want to see what this guy looks like.” Then the screen went black.

  I closed my laptop and my stomach growled, so I headed for the kitchen to see what Mom was preparing for dinner. When I opened my bedroom door, I heard voices filter down the hallway. Not just voices—laughter. Was Mom’s assistant still here?

  I padded down the hall through the living room to the kitchen but stopped short. Mom was at the sink washing vegetables, and a man, I presumed her assistant, was standing beside her, chopping peppers on a cutting board. Mom tossed her head and laughed as he reached around her waist to take a cucumber from the counter where she’d laid it.

  “Mom?”

  The two of them spun around. “Chris,” she said, and fumbled to turn off the water. “I was making dinner, and Cooper dropped by to leave some paperwork.” Her words flooded out like a waterfall, and her cheeks blushed dramatically. “Since he was here, I thought I’d ask him to stay for dinner.”

  My gaze went from her to the man standing next to her as she grabbed a towel and wiped her hands. “Cooper, this is my daughter, Christine. Chris, this is my office assistant, Cooper Nance.”

  The man smiled at me and held up the cucumber and knife. “I’d shake your hand, Chris, but—”

  “Christine,” I corrected.

  “Christine,” he amended.

  I stood there staring at them, and the three of us formed a silent triangle.

  “Well,” Mom said, her voice jittery, “I think that’s about it. The salad is tossed and the bread is ready to come out of the oven. Chris, you may want to wash up while we set the table.”

  While we set the table?

  “We’re sitting in the dining room?” I asked.

  “Of course, honey. Now go clean up.”

  I lingered a moment, reluctant to walk away. But they continued with their tasks, still laughing and talking but not quite as intimately.

  When I returned from the bathroom, I walked into the dining room and saw Mom had pulled out her best tablecloth, and she and Cooper were placing the food atop it. I sat down and watched Cooper pull Mom’s chair out for her before he settled himself in at the head of the table.

  What the hell?

  Mom cleared her throat as she scooped pasta onto her plate. “Would you like salad?” she asked me, and offered the bowl. I took it and realized the tension in the room was as tangible as the bowl in my hand.

  Unapologetically, I observed Cooper Nance as he passed Mom the garlic bread. He was nice-looking with dark eyes and even darker hair. He was clearly younger than she was, probably late twenties or early thirties. A handsome man.

  “Your mother says you’re a ballerina,” Cooper commented.

  “Yes,” I responded sharply.

  “Do you like it?”

  “I’ve been doing it all my life; what do you think?”

  “Christine!” Mom censured.

  I lowered my gaze, surprised by my own insolence. But this guy was hitting on my mother, right in front of me. Not to mention sitting in my father’s chair. Did they expect me to pretend it wasn’t happening?

  Neither of them tried to include me in their conversation after that. It was extremely uncomfortable, and after a few minutes of pushing food around on my plate, I asked to be excused. Before walking away, I narrowed my eyes and glared at Mom, but she ignored me and continued talking to Cooper.

  In my room, I left the door open and sat on the edge of my bed to listen to them down the hall. It didn’t sound like they were doing anything inappropriate. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe Cooper had merely been delivering Mom’s work, and she was being courteous like she said. After all, he had no way of knowing he was sitting in Dad’s chair. And it would have been rude for Mom to make him move.

  The situation had really dampened my mood, so I picked up my phone and reread Raoul’s texts.

  Mood improved

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dear Tina Ballerina,

  I can’t believe my baby girl is growing up! I hope you know this email is turning your old man prematurely gray. Honestly, I saw one in the mirror this morning! Joking aside, sweetie, this Raoul doesn’t sound like a bad guy. And I suppose you have to go on a first date some time. I’m sorry I’m not there for it. I’ll talk to your mother today, but I can’t see any reason why you shouldn’t go.

  Xoxo

  Dad

  I read the email before I’d even brushed my teeth. If Dad was okay with it, I couldn’t see Mom having grounds to stop me. But my excitement didn’t last. When I went to the kitchen for breakfast, Mom was there at the breakfast bar waiting for me.

  “You went behind my back,” she said accusingly.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t take that stance with me. You know what I’m talking about. Emailing your father.”

  “I email Dad all the time.”

  “Christine, we’re not going to dance around this. I had an email from him this morning.”

  “Oh.”

  “You didn’t even give us time to work it out.” She sounded wounded, which made me feel a little guilty.

  “Mom, this isn’t a competition between you and Dad.”

  “I know.” She drummed her fingers on the countertop before sighing and swiping at a stray hair.

  “Everyone I know is or has been dating for a while,” I said. “Most of them have their driver’s license and I’m older than they are.”

  “Whose fault is that?” she countered. “You could have had your license a year ago when your dad offered to teach you. But you didn’t want to.”

  She had me there.

  “This is different,” I said. “Marisol has been dating Carlos for years. And every girl I know has been dating for a while. I just want to feel normal, like everyone else.”

  She let out a long, slow breath and slapped her hands on top of the counter.

  “Short of doing a background check on this boy, I guess I’ll have to trust your instincts on this.”

  I yipped and ran to throw my arms around her neck.

  “I can go?”

  “You can go,” she relented. “Your dad will call me later this morning, but I know how he feels, and I can’t keep you locked up in Templeton Towers like Rapunzel forever.”

  When I released her and bounced up and down, she raised a finger. “But! You have to check in with me at least once. Okay?”

  “Absolutely!”

  She kissed me on the cheek. “Now eat before we’re late.” Then she left the room.

  We talked about the date on the drive to school. I mean really talked, even laughed about it. We agreed she’d take me shopping for something new to wear after class on Friday. It was a nice little mother-daughter, commercial-worthy moment. Until her cell phone rang.

  “Cooper,” she nearly gushed. “I’m on my way right now. I just have to drop off Christine.”

  I watched her as she chattered. She was coquettish and effervescent. This wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be flirting with him. He might get the wrong idea, like she was available or something.

  When she hung up and dropped the phone on the seat, she was beaming and it annoyed me.

  “Mom, what’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Uh—let’s not dance around this,” I said, throwing the same words she’d used on me right back at her. “What’s going on with you and Cooper Nance?”

  She took her eyes off the road long enough to glance at me. There was confusion in her gaze, but I wasn’t su
re if it was genuine or feigned. “He’s my assistant.”

  “Yeah? Well, from where I sit, it’s looking like a lot more.”

  “Don’t be silly.” She rolled her lips together—a nervous habit. “He’s my assistant. I don’t know what else you think might be going on.” She rolled her lips again.

  Easing the car to the curb in front of the school, she said, “So, we have a date Friday to get you ready for your date!”

  It really chafed that she would treat me like I was twelve, dismiss the topic, and think I wouldn’t notice. I figured two could play this game of half-truths, so I said, “Don’t bother picking me up this afternoon. I’ll be late.”

  “Oh, okay,” she replied without pressing me.

  I stepped out of the car and slammed the door on her friendly wave and enthusiastic goodbye. I didn’t feel like making nice with her. I didn’t even feel bad for lying to her about being late tonight. It was Wednesday; there were no football players coming to the studio today. But I didn’t want her picking me up. I wanted to be alone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I sought out Jenna as soon as I’d dropped my bag in the dressing room. “I think my mother might be cheating on my father,” I said as we loosened up. “At least she wants to.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, she and her new assistant are getting awfully chummy.”

  “You had to know it might happen, Chris, with your parents separated like they are. I mean, do you honestly think your dad isn’t getting a little action over in Norway?”

  I lowered my leg from the barre. “Separated? My parents aren’t separated. Dad’s out of the country because of his job.”

  Jenna gave me a sympathetic look that made me feel uncomfortable. Stepping closer, she said, “Tell me you see what’s going on here.”

  “Going on where?” I was confused, and Jenna’s knowing gaze made me uncomfortable.

  “Your parents concocted this working out of the country scenario to get away from each other—and to protect you while they did it.”

  I shook my head, while something cold permeated my stomach and I felt nauseated. My parents weren’t separated. But the longer I stood there, quietly hanging on to my denial, the more I knew it was true. They were apart and not simply because they were on different continents.

  “I’m sorry, Chris, but it’s time you faced it. Your parents are probably going to divorce.”

  Divorce? No, that couldn’t be right. My breath caught in my throat and I felt weak-kneed. Jenna continued to stare at me compassionately and I wanted to cry. I rolled my lips in and out, and when I realized I’d mimicked Mom’s nervous little tick, I did burst into tears.