Chapter Four
Gillian
I woke up too early to drive to work and too late to go back to sleep, so I grabbed my favorite book and found a quiet booth in the back of the coffee shop. I was hoping to lose myself in the rolling green hills of Scotland, where Ethan, my favorite knight in the series, was jousting for the heart of the woman he’d loved since he was a boy. I read, unable to look away as the lance pierced his armor and sent him flying off his horse into the mud.
Was he alive? I turned the page. His maiden ran out into the field, crying, and got onto her knees, soiling her bright pink dress, to see whether or not he was alive. He had to be. She loved him, and throughout the entire book she knew it, but she couldn’t say a word. She was too scared. Now that she wasn’t sure whether he was alive or dead, she finally had the courage to tell him how she felt.
My heart stopped. After hours and hours of anticipation, I was finally going to see what happened. The vibration of my phone shook me out of the story. I whipped it out. “Michael, this’d better be good.”
“Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“No.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“It was this book I was reading. Why are you calling so early? Is everything alright?”
“You won’t believe who’s coming to town.”
“Santa Claus?”
“No, stupid. It’s Dwayne. He’s getting out of the navy, and his parents are holding a BBQ tomorrow.”
“Dwayne? It’s been years. I almost forgot he existed.”
“Well, he does, and everyone’s been asking about you, Gillian. They all want to see you.”
“I know. I haven’t been home in almost a year. It’s unreal.”
“Why don’t you come down? Have some food, drink a little. It’ll be fun.”
“I guess it would be. Tell Mom and Dad that I’ll see them tomorrow, will you?”
“Will do.”
I checked the time. I had to be at the dance studio in less than twenty minutes. I downed my tea, then rushed out the door. The fair maiden would have to wait to see if she got to bed Prince Charming another time.
Lexie was bent over stretching with her back turned when I walked in. “Hey,” she stood back up. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I know I’m late. I am so sorry.” I set my bag down and started my stretches.
“No, it’s fine. Class hasn’t started yet. I was a little worried, though. What happened?”
“I’m so stupid. I was reading, and I spaced when I was at the coffee shop.”
“Was it any good?”
“It would’ve been had my brother not called right before the big ending.”
“Michael?” she asked. “What’d he want?”
“His best friend Dwayne just got out of the navy, and they’re having a BBQ for him. He wanted to see if I wanted to come along.”
“Dwayne…” Lexie thought about for a moment. “The one from the track team with that sexy swimmer body?”
“Yeah… I guess.”
She had a grin from ear to ear. “He’s the one you were obsessed with ever since freshmen year.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You can lie to everyone else, Gillian, but you can’t lie to me. You used to stay after school to watch the track team every day.”
“I liked doing my homework on the bleachers.”
“You sure it wasn’t those tight short shorts they made the boys wear?”
I blushed. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Uh-huh. You had it bad.”
“That was a long time ago. I’ve got other things to worry about.”
She pulled out her phone. “Shoot.”
“What? Is it time already?”
“Almost. You should go get changed.”
I took my time in the bathroom, hoping to clear my head of all the mess running through it. When I came back out, there was a young blonde woman sitting in the lobby, her little girl sitting next to her. She wasn’t like the rest of the moms. There was no cold stare, no designer clothes. This was a real person.
“Hi,” I beamed.“Can I help you?”
“We’re here for the dance classes. I know that your program said the class started yesterday, but I was hoping there might be a chance I could get my daughter in late.”
“I don’t see why not.” I knelt down in front of the girl, whose blonde hair had been tied up in a bun. She was wearing a pink tutu with a matching leotard. “What’s your name?”
“Beth.”
“Beth,” I exclaimed, “may I ask how old you are?” She smiled and held up both hands with her fingers outstretched. “Wow, that’s a lot of fingers. You’re older than I am.” The mom laughed. I stood back up. “If you just want to give me a moment so I can speak with Lexie.”
“Sure,” she said.
“Great, I’ll be right back.”
Lexie was stuck in the middle of a torrent of temper tantrums and neurotic mothers, all of them needing immediate attention. I told the mothers that she would be back shortly and that class would be starting soon, allowing her a moment to get out of the snake pit and handle the new girl.
Once she was ready, we lined the girls up and Lexie strode to the front of the room while I watched from behind to keep an eye on them. Beth was at the back of the line, paying attention to everything except Lexie.
“Good morning, class.” The kids sounded off. “Today, we’re going to start an exercise routine that we will continue for the rest of the session. In order to perform ballet, you’re going to have to train your body to be flexible and responsive. Stretching is one of the ways that we will loosen things up and make it easier for you to move around.”
“Ahem,” one of the moms cleared her throat.
Lexie turned back to glare at her. “Yes?”
It was Mrs. Regis, the mom who had her daughter attack one of the girls during the last class. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” She wasn’t.
“No, it’s okay. Did you have a question?”
“Do you think we should be telling the girls about the dangers of not stretching before they work out?”
“Actually,” Lexie responded, “recent studies show that stretching before a workout doesn’t decrease your risk of injury at all.”
“I’ve always heard differently,” Mrs. Regis snapped. Some of the other mothers were nodding their heads.
“It’s an old myth that’s been dispelled after years of research, but I can see why you’d be mistaken.” The mom gave her a smug look, but kept her mouth shut. Lexie turned back to the class. “The first stretch we’re going to do is called the tree. I want all of you to reach up to the sky as far as you can and make sure to keep your roots on the ground.” She pointed at her feet.
All of the girls reached up to the ceiling.
“Good job. Now we’re going to reached down and touch our toes.” She bent over to demonstrate, and the girls followed her. Beth looked back at me a little warily and stopped halfway down. I could tell that she was having a little trouble staying focused, and her mother was the only mom that hadn’t stayed for practice, so I walked up beside her.
“And down,” I said and bent over. She did the same. “Good job, Beth.”
“Thank you.” She seemed pleased and began following my cues as we moved through the stretches, the poses, then the pliés. The mothers watched me the entire time, and once Mrs. Regis turned to the woman sitting next to her and whispered something with her eyes locked on mine.
After class, when the girls were starting to get their things and leave, she came up to me. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Excuse me?” I tried to remain calm.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice the special treatment you were giving to that little girl. I pay good money for these classes, and I’m not about to sit around and watch you play favorites.”
“I was encouraging participation, Mrs. Regis.”
“Don’t give me that crap. I know what you’re doing. You’re singling out the best so you can prop them up. Well, I won’t stand for it. If you want to keep getting my money, you’ll pay the same amount of attention to my girl as you pay to the rest of these brats. You got me?”
I stepped forward, close enough that she backed up. “You can leave. I don’t want you here. Lexie doesn’t want you here. We were planning on kicking your daughter out the second she stepped out of line anyway. There’s the door.” I pointed back towards the lobby.
She looked at me, confused at first. She didn’t seem to know what to do, and she certainly hadn’t been expecting me to talk to her the way I did. Finally, her face settled into its natural look of haughty indignation. “You can’t treat me like this. I want my money back.”
“You paid for the classes she took.”
“I’ll sue.”
“Go ahead. Your contract clearly states there are no refunds, and you signed it. Now if there’s nothing else, and trust me, sweetie, there isn’t, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“You couldn’t keep me here.” Her daughter was on the floor a few feet away changing her shoes. Mrs. Regis ducked down and wrenched the girl up, dragging her out of the room.
“Thank you so much,” Lexie walked out of the lobby. “I’ve been trying to figure out a way to get rid of that woman all day.”
“I’m just glad it was soon rather than later.”