Danika texts the next day saying she’ll get back to me about the academy. I take that to mean Gabriella is still there. Maybe she’s trying to work out a deal where we go on different days.
I tell myself to be patient, but still find myself driving by to see if Gwen’s SUV is there.
I meet Mom and Andy at the park. We swing and run around like the old days. Mom has promised my father not to bring me to his house, but he hasn’t tried to ban her from seeing me. She has made it clear that if he tries it, she will leave.
I don’t hold out hope for making up with him, but it’s enough to see Mom and my brother. I haven’t lost everything.
About a week after our return, Danika calls to say she’d like for me and Blitz to come up to Dreamcatcher to discuss options for classes.
It’s an odd choice of day, a weekend afternoon, but I don’t question it. I’m over the moon about the possibility of returning. We haven’t worked out a single day since I’ve been back, not really wanting to go to Jenica’s if we can get back where we want to go. Weeza is gone, though. Fiona texted me to say she was cast in a role in the next production, A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
“Let’s plan on doing some dancing while we’re there,” Blitz says, pulling his old jazz pants out of a drawer. “Something flashy.”
I’m not sure about it, but since we’re so close to our anniversary and back at Dreamcatcher at last, I pull out my blue leotards, his favorite, and a silky skirt.
When we get to the academy late that afternoon, the parking lot is jam-packed. We have to leave our car several blocks away.
“What is going on?” I ask as we walk up.
“Must be a busy part of the schedule,” Blitz says.
He’s jumpy, though, very un-Blitz-like.
“I don’t buy it,” I tell him. “You’re up to something.”
“It’s just a little show,” he says. “They might ask us to dance.”
I stop in my tracks. “We haven’t practiced anything!” I say. “We haven’t even danced together in months!”
He wraps an arm around my waist. “We could do something amazing in our sleep,” he assures me. “And it’s probably going to be nothing.”
I let out a long sigh as we cross the parking lot and head up the stairs. I glance over at the wheelchair ramp. I don’t even know if that class exists anymore. It may have never formed again after the break for summer.
I just have to be okay with that.
When we enter the foyer, Suze is at the desk. “Here’s the program,” she says. “Glad you guys could make it!”
“Thanks,” Blitz says. He takes the folded page.
“Program for what?” I ask, snatching it from him. It’s too early for the Christmas recital.
Danika is obviously doing something new. The academy is putting on a rendition of Alice in Wonderland. It includes ballet, tap, and contemporary numbers.
“I think it’s about to start,” Blitz says.
“We’re going to watch it?”
“We are!” he says.
When we enter the crowded theater, it’s hard to find seats. After months of front-row spots, it’s amusing to have to ask someone to shift down a spot so we can have two together near the back. In the dim recital hall, nobody even notices who we are. The elderly couple sitting next to us clearly don’t have a clue or don’t care.
It’s perfect.
We’re barely settled when the lights go all the way down and the curtain opens slightly. Danika steps out and walks up to a lone microphone.
“I’m so glad you are all here,” she says. “In the five years since Dreamcatcher Dance Academy opened, we have hosted ten recitals with individual numbers by our leveled classes.” She pauses and smiles.
“This year, we decided to get a little more ambitious. Since classes began in August for the new term, we have had each group work on roles for a narrative work. We selected Alice in Wonderland because it has so many fun roles for children. The girl performing as Alice is one of our advanced dancers, and you will see all the children who take lessons here at Dreamcatcher throughout the performance. Thank you for coming.”
The audience applauds. I’m thrilled to be here and see this, but it definitely isn’t what I expected. I can’t possibly take Danika aside for a meeting in the midst of all the activity.
Blitz takes my hand and I squeeze it. The curtain opens and Amanda, a girl from my advanced ballet class, comes out in a blue dress and apron. She must be Alice. She wanders the stage alone, glancing around. The music begins, light and airy.
Five of Aurora’s toddlers arrive, dressed as flowers. The audience collectively sighs and giggles as the little ones wiggle out onstage in green leotards and big petaled hats.
Aurora heads down to the floor and leads the girls in a little flower dance. Alice wanders among them, keeping them in line when needed. Then they toddle off.
A boy who is surely from Jacob’s hip-hop class comes out, dressed as a white rabbit. The music shifts to an upbeat rhythm as he tries to convince Alice to come with him.
I glance over at Blitz. This is amazing.
Alice slides down the hole and goes through her process of eating and drinking to change size, along with dancers up on stilts, and then another round of teeny-tiny dancers for her to tower over.
Then the Mad Hatter arrives, and the back curtain goes up to reveal the tea party.
I almost jump out of my seat.
The wheelchair ballerinas are there, all of them! Gabriella!
I’m crying, just sobbing, to see her. They are all dressed in wild colors. The music is lively and quick. Then the girls all come around in front of the table to do a little dance with the teapots, passing them down and being silly as another older boy leaps around in his crazy tall hat.
There is much laughter in the room at their antics, but I can’t stop crying. She’s up there. She’s right there!
Blitz videos it all with his phone while my attention is glued to the stage. The scene finishes and maybe it’s just my imagination, but the applause is tremendous. I’m standing and cheering, then realize the show is moving on. I sit back down in embarrassment.
“You’re fine,” Blitz says. “You’re not the only overzealous parent.”
I wonder if Gwen saw me, if this is okay, or if she will be angry.
Then I realize — I was invited. Danika wanted me here. Even though Gabriella would be performing.
I settle back in my seat.
During the intermission, Blitz takes my hand. “We’re wanted backstage.”
My heart hammers. Will I get to see her?
“Is Gabriella there?” I ask.
“Not right away,” he says. “But I believe we’ll all be onstage together in the end.”
“We will?”
We head to the front and zip up the stairs to the stage, then duck between the side curtains to the backstage area.
Several parents dressed in black are rolling the tea-party table off the stage and pushing out a few fake trees.
I spot the Cheshire cat and Tweedledee and Tweedledum. They are definitely from Jacob’s jazz class. Blitz gives each of them a high five. They are excited to see him.
We pass on through and into the storage area, where a huge path has been cleared to allow dancers to go to the opposite hall.
Then we’re in the bright lights of the studios, kids everywhere. I peek into Studios 3 and 4, which are near the back, but the wheelchair ballerinas aren’t in those.
“There’s Danika,” Blitz says, and pulls us into the Dance of the Shades room where we first met.
It’s like coming home. The floor-to-ceiling images depict Juliet and her fellow ballerinas dancing the number the room is named for. I feel like I deserve to be here finally. My time doing Sleeping Beauty has given me that confidence.
“Oh, there you two are,” Danika says. She passes a clipboard to Aurora, who is helping the toddlers put away their flower heads and find their mothers.
“We are ready and willing for duty,” Blitz says.
Danika shakes her head with a laugh. “I forgot what a card you are. We’re going to slide you in at the end of the party when Alice returns home. All the characters other than the toddlers will circle the stage.”
“What are we going to do?” I shouldn’t feel any panic about dancing after my stints on live TV, then having to prove myself before professional ballerinas, but I do.
“Whatever you like. Shall we play a waltz?” Danika asks.
“Way too slow,” Blitz says. “Just give us a jazzy number and we’ll roll with it.”
“Sounds perfect,” Danika says.
She’s about to turn away when I say, “Wait!”
Danika’s eyes meet mine. Her blue hair is recently re-dyed, vivid against her pale face. “You want to know about Gabriella,” she says.
“Yes,” I answer.
She glances at the other mothers and steps closer.
“Gwen has agreed to let you attend the recitals and say hello. Just not to teach her. No private lessons. And not to reveal your identity as her mother.”
My throat goes tight. “Okay,” I say.
“I assumed you would agree,” she says. “She may come around yet. Let this be the start.”
My eyes sting. “I will.”
Blitz squeezes my hand. “You want to practice something or just wing it?” he asks.
“Are you crazy?” I ask him. “We’re going to practice something.”
As more of the sleepy toddlers file out, I pull him to the back corner of the room. “Show me what you’ve got, Blitz Craven.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”