The Cursed Ballet (5 page)

Chapter 14

“If we could just get Ms. Johnson's number, Madame.” Madeleine blinked innocently.

Madame stared at her suspiciously. “Now what is this for? A class assignment on past ballet students?”

“Uh, yeah. For civics.”

Kayley elbowed Madeleine in the ribs. Madeleine added quickly, “I mean history.”

“Mm-hmm.” Madame tapped her pencil on her desk. “And, Ophelia? You are well enough to complete homework assignments?”

Ophelia sank down in her chair. She'd skipped so many ballet practices, she thought for sure Madame would kick her out of the program. She'd even been hesitant to come to Madame's office. But she didn't want her friends doing anything that would get them in trouble—not without her, anyway.

She cleared her throat. “I'm feeling much better, Madame. In fact, I feel well enough to rehearse for the rest of the week before the performance. And speaking of
Giselle
, we saw you speaking to Ms. Johnson the other day while we were rehearsing. That's what made us think about her for this interview. It would be especially interesting because of her relationship to this academy.” Ophelia looked directly in Madame's eyes. “And she might have a lot to say about the school and all the … interesting things that have happened here.”

Madame's mouth turned up in a tiny smile before she became serious again.

“You know, that might be just the thing. If it's one thing I can't abide in this school, it's secrets. That and rumors. Unacceptable.”

She stood next to Ophelia, putting her hand on her arm. “When we bring things out into the light, then we take away their power.”

For some reason, tears came to Ophelia's eyes again. She felt like Madame saw and knew everything.

“Keep strong for the performance,” Madame said. “But if there's a single hint that you are not well enough to do
Giselle
, the performance is canceled. You've already had one close call.”

Madame sat down at the desk and scribbled something on a piece of paper. “Now, normally, I'm not in the habit of giving out the numbers of our board members. But for this, I'll make an exception.”

She handed the number to Kayley and said, “As long as you girls work together, this will all be all right.” She gave a slight wink that could have been easily overlooked. “Work together within the bounds of the assignment, of course. Now, carry on.”

She looked down at her desk in a clear dismissal of the girls. As they walked out, she added, “Call from a school phone, please, not a cell phone. And I expect you'll be burning that number after you use it.”

After two hours and lots of pacing, Ophelia finally found the courage to call Jordan. When she picked up the phone, Kayley threw her hands in the air. “It's about time!”

Ophelia bit her lip and dialed. On the third ring, Jordan picked up.

“Hello? This is Jordan.”

Ophelia swallowed. “Jordan, this is Ophelia.”

Silence greeted her at the other end. After a few seconds, Jordan spoke warmly. “Ophelia. I'm so glad you called. I know that took a lot of courage.”

Ophelia nodded and then felt ridiculous because she was on the phone. She said, “Jordan, I read your diary and … I know about Devon. Or at least, I know what he's trying to do. He tried to kill you, didn't he?”

“Yes. He did. He had killed at least two others before me.”

“How?
How
did he try to kill you?”

Kayley, Emma, Sophie, and Madeleine crowded around the phone. Ophelia elbowed them to get some air.

“He starts by making you feel special,” Jordan began. “By making you feel you're the only one on the floor. The only one who can be his partner. But he sucks the life force out of you.

“I was the lucky one. My father saw what was happening to me in time. He pulled me out of the school and put me into therapy and a program. By that time, I could barely stand up. Those before me weren't so lucky.”

“I'm so sorry,” Ophelia said. She knew exactly how Jordan felt. “I dance Giselle this Saturday. What do I do to stop him?”

There was silence again on the other line. “You can't dance it. He'll kill you.”

Frustrated, Ophelia said, “Well, how do I stop him?”

Jordan laughed. “You don't! You just don't dance it. You know Giselle's death scene? The dance that has all that footwork and all the leaps? That's when his victims died. You can't dance Giselle, Ophelia. It will kill you.”

Ophelia thought about that for a moment. “Thank you for your time, Jordan. You really helped me.”

“Ophelia, I'm truly sorry,” Jordan said. “This isn't something anyone should have to go through.”

Ophelia hung up. Madeleine patted her shoulder. “I'm so sorry you can't dance Giselle, honey.”

Ophelia laughed. “Oh, I'm dancing Giselle.”

The other girls said in unison, “What?!”

Ophelia laughed again, feeling giddy. “Yes, I'm dancing Giselle.” She grabbed a granola bar, taking a huge bite out of it. “I'll be damned if I'm letting some stupid ghost boy stop me from living my dream.”

Chapter 15

Ophelia felt strong. She felt the music flow all through her veins, felt it almost take her over. Almost.

She was herself now. And she was waiting for Devon to show up.

The performance was going to start in twenty minutes. She looked at Madeleine, Kayley, Emma, and Sophie, all of them nervous and shaky. Ophelia jumped up and down to get the blood flowing. She'd had a huge dinner earlier to make sure she had enough fuel for the performance. She peeked out from behind the curtain and saw Jordan Johnson and her father in the red velvet boxes that sat above the crowd. Ophelia could see they were nervous. Jordan kept wringing her hands, and John Johnson III bounced his knee.

A hand drew her back and she jumped.

It was Madame. Her face was pinched, and she beckoned Ophelia to follow her.

They went backstage, and the sounds of the orchestra warming up faded in the background.

Ophelia leaned against a cardboard house used for the second act and looked at Madame curiously. Madame took Ophelia's face in her hands. The move was so surprising, Ophelia had no words.

“Ophelia, you will tell me if this ballet is too much?” Madame said. “You will not go on if you think you'll get hurt, yes?”

Ophelia felt a lump in her throat. “I would tell you,” she said. But a wave of doubt hit her.

“Ophelia. I know that whatever it is you fight tonight, you will win. I have full faith in you. And we are all here for you. Always.”

Tears threatened Ophelia's eyes. She managed to say, “Thank you, Madame.” Madame nodded and walked away.

Ophelia took a deep breath and said quietly, “I'm worried too, Madame.”

She stepped back toward the staging area and the strains of the orchestra coming together. Someone yelled out the fifteen-minute mark, and Ophelia found Madeleine, Kayley, Emma, and Sophie.

The five girls grabbed each other's hands and formed a circle. Ophelia whispered, “Whatever happens tonight, you did everything you could.”

Kayley huffed in anger. “You still don't have to dance this! Can I just say again, I think this is stupid? It's just a stupid ballet, Ophelia. It's not worth your life!”

Some other dancers looked over at them curiously.

Ophelia squeezed Kayley's hand. “I don't know how I know, but I do. If I don't face this now, it will haunt me forever. He will haunt me forever. Jordan isn't over him. I heard it in her voice. And I don't want to be like that. I think tonight is my night to break free. And I have to do it alone.”

Sophie shook her head. “Not alone. We're here.”

Ophelia smiled. “Yes. You're here. And after this ballet, I'll be here too.” She squeezed their hands, and the stage manager called places.

Ophelia took her spot and prepared to dance for her life.

Chapter 16

After the first few scenes, Ophelia felt wonderful. She felt in control of the dance for the first time, felt the beauty of the movements and the heartbreak of the story. She felt everything she was supposed to. But Giselle's death was coming up, and she couldn't deny that she felt nervous.

And then she saw him. He was across the stage from her, staring at her with those beautiful pale eyes. She could almost smell him from where she stood: right by Madeleine, who didn't seem to see him. She noticed Madeleine looking her way and gave her the thumbs-up. Ophelia gave a halfhearted wave back.

Was she the only one who could see Devon?

The music that signaled Giselle's entrance to the death scene began to play. Across the stage, Kayley, Emma, and Sophie had joined Madeleine, none of them seeing the agent of death right next to them. They held each other's hands, staring at Ophelia with worried eyes.

When her time came to go onstage, Ophelia prepared for the battle of her life.

She entered on scene and sure enough, Devon came too, dancing with her for each step. She could smell his dusty scent, the woodsy, spicy smell that overtook her. Her eyes fluttered, she melted into him. She could feel like this forever.

He whispered to her: “Giselle. My Giselle.”

She turned away. “I am not your Giselle.”

When she pirouetted around, he was in front of her again. He grabbed on to her waist and held her close. It would be so easy to just give in. Just to let him have her so that she could feel this way forever; warm, comforted, perfect.

She glanced at the side of the stage and saw her friends standing there. They were still holding hands, worried expressions still on their faces. She knew that each one of them also held her right then, held her in their hearts. She knew they couldn't see Devon, and even if they could, they wouldn't be able to see what made him so irresistible. She loved them, she did. But maybe she loved Devon more.

He spoke softly in her ear: “It's time. Come to me, Giselle. Come to me forever.”

Ophelia felt her heart flutter. Felt the beats slow as she danced. Felt her vision blacken. And she knew.

This was dying.

She was performing Giselle's last steps. She was Giselle. And she would die in this scene. She felt light and airy, felt like she could evaporate and it would be all right. It would be peaceful.

She saw a glimpse of Madame in the wings, saw tears running down her face. She thought about her friends and her family, about dance and her studies, about laughter and life. She thought about cold winter days and creepy hallways and springtime and lakes and sunlight.

And her eyes sprang open.

Tonight was not the night. It was not time. Tonight, Giselle would live.

She began to dance other steps. Steps that bounced. Steps and moves that put her firmly on the earth.

“What are you doing?!” Devon hissed at her. His face, once beautiful, looked grotesque.

All she could do was laugh. With each step, she felt her heartbeat grow stronger.

“Stop it! You're ruining it!” Devon screamed at her. He had started to fade.

The other dancers onstage looked confused. The corps had almost stopped dancing completely. For a moment, her resolve weakened.

But then she was surrounded by Madeleine, Kayley, Sophie, and Emma, and the five of them created a dance on the spot. A dance for life.

They danced Devon out of the circle. He howled in rage.

“You'll never be anything without me!” he yelled, circling around her like an animal. “You'll be nothing, I say, nothing!”

Ophelia did four fouettés in a row, and with each spot, she said, “I. Don't. Need. You.”

By the last spot, he had disappeared completely.

She felt the hold on her loosen. Her heart beat strongly, and her vision cleared.

In front of her were four friends who stayed with her through everything. Who jumped onstage with her and made up a dance to kick out a demon.

This, she thought. This was something to live for.

And in the middle of the stage, in the middle of a ballet about a girl who dies, Ophelia hugged her friends and celebrated her life.

Epilogue

John Johnson III patted his head with a handkerchief.

“We were lucky, Madame Puant. Just lucky.”

Madame Puant shook her head. “Not lucky. It was a show of strength.”

Johnson stood up and leaned on her desk. “What if he comes back?”

Madame Puant sighed. “You and I both know he will. He always comes back. But for now, we can rest in the knowledge that one of our students beat him.” She leaned forward. “And if she could beat him, then someone else can too. Now, don't you think that's encouraging?”

Johnson sank back in the chair. “Yes, I suppose you're right, Betsy.” He chuckled. “You do seem to be right about almost everything here. I'll give you that.”

“It's like I told you before, John. I know my students. And I would go to hell and back before I'd let something happen to them.” She looked sadly out the window. “But we can't do everything for them. More often than not, they must help themselves. What we
can
do is be there for them, no matter what comes up.”

She cleared her throat and then walked John Johnson III to the door.

“But I intend to do just that. I will be here. Always. No matter what.”