Tara: Everything to Lose Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Read a sample from … Kat Breaking Pointe

  Copyright

  CHAPTER 1

  There’s a dream I’ve been having lately, where I’m all alone in the middle of a huge stage, wearing a floaty white dress and red pointe shoes.

  As soon as I start dancing I know it’s one of those rare performances where everything is working perfectly. Every step, every turn, every arabesque is flawless.

  As the music from the orchestra pit fills my ears I begin my series of fouettés, spinning effortlessly en pointe to the magical sound of applause from the audience.

  This is it. This is what I’ve been striving for my whole life.

  But then a knot grows in my stomach – a sense that I could either keep turning forever, or just as easily fall. And when I wake up, I can’t figure out if it’s a dream, or a premonition …

  It’s just on dawn. I step out onto the veranda and breathe in the sweet early morning air. Beyond our garden, the wheat fields shimmer in the distance.

  Christian is already up, sitting on the lawn cradling our latest rescue joey in his arms. He fumbles around with the feeding bottle, trying to get the joey to drink.

  I smile at him. ‘You couldn’t sleep either?’

  Christian tilts his head at the baby kangaroo. ‘He got me up,’ he explains.

  ‘You are such a pushover,’ I laugh. ‘Come on.’

  Christian gently puts the joey down and follows me through the yard. We grab a couple of quad bikes from the shed and ride into the paddock, dodging sheep as we head up the hill. I spot Dad bent over a fence, wire cutters in his hand. He turns at the sound of our bikes.

  ‘Where are you two off to?’ he calls. ‘I thought City Boy was going to help me with this fence?’

  I slow my speed and pull a face. ‘It’s our last day, Dad.’

  Dad shrugs and grins, then goes back to his fence. I rev my bike and we zoom past him up the dusty track, heading for the very top of the hill.

  We cut our engines and climb off our bikes. Below us, the golden fields seem to stretch on forever. There’s not a house or any other sign of humanity in sight. I love this place.

  I turn to Christian to see if he feels the same way. ‘It’s like the whole world could have disappeared and we’re the only ones left,’ I tell him.

  But Christian’s not looking at the view. He’s looking at me.

  ‘All right, Webster,’ he says, his voice serious. ‘You realise at some point this year we’re going to want to kill each other.’

  I stare at him, my heart racing. What does he mean?

  He breaks into a grin. ‘Let’s make a deal, okay? Nothing’s getting between us.’

  I slowly exhale, relief flooding through me. He reaches for my hand and I shake it formally, sealing the deal. We sit on the side of the hill for a while, watching as the rest of the world slowly wakes up. Then we dance, performing dreamy pirouettes and lifts and arabesques, our feet as light as air in our chunky leather work boots.

  Finally we stop, exhausted, deliriously happy. Christian pulls me close and kisses me gently on the cheek.

  I think I’m going to enjoy this year.

  A few days later we’re back in Sydney.

  ‘Can you believe this harbour?’ I say to Christian as we stroll hand-in-hand along the pier towards the ballet school. Ferry boats and yachts jostle for space on the sparkling water.

  ‘Tara!’ Kat shrieks, pulling me into a hug. Then it’s Sammy’s turn.

  I hug them both back. Trust Kat and Sammy to be the first people we run into outside the Academy.

  Kat shoots us a sly smile. ‘So how long exactly did the “just friends” rule last?’ she jokes, looking at our linked hands.

  ‘Yeah,’ says Sammy. ‘Who caved first?’

  Christian and I point at each other.

  ‘He did.’

  ‘She did.’

  I grin. We’ve become so close we even echo each other’s words. I stare up at the ballet school building, my skin tingling with anticipation.

  ‘Second year. Wow.’

  Sammy nods. ‘Did anyone ever think we’d make it this far?’

  Too late, he remembers one of us didn’t.

  ‘Oops. Sorry, Kat,’ he says, blushing.

  Kat’s all smiles. ‘Hey, my new holding cell’s just around the corner. It’ll be like old times.’

  But something in her eyes makes it hard for me to think she really believes that.

  We wave Kat off to her new school and push our way in through the main doors. Inside, the corridors hum with people rushing about trying to find classrooms or hugging each other in greeting. I step back as a girl I’ve never seen before throws her arms around Sammy, pulling him into a kiss. Weird.

  ‘Check it out,’ Christian says, his finger pointing to the wall beyond them.

  I look up to see my photo staring back at me. It’s an image from my performance as Clara in The Nutcracker last year.

  ‘You’re going to be the poster girl of second year,’ Christian tells me.

  I shake my head. ‘Mmm. Somehow I can’t see Abigail letting that happen.’

  ‘Tara!’

  Speak of the devil. Abigail launches herself at me, thrusting a giant leafy pot plant in my face as she envelops me in a giant hug.

  ‘Er, hi,’ I splutter, removing a leaf from my mouth.

  ‘I’ve put us down for our old room,’ Abigail chirps, then pauses, her face suddenly clouded with doubt. ‘I hope that’s not overstepping?’

  I stare at her, wondering who replaced sly, grumpy Abigail with this new caring sharing model. Even Christian and Sammy have picked up that something here is very, very weird.

  Abigail beams at them. ‘Christian! Sammy! Wow. Today we grow in strength with every forward step. This is Phil.’ She waggles the pot plant in their faces, then scampers off into the studio.

  It’s going to be an interesting year all right.

  CHAPTER 2

  I’m standing in the studio with the first and second year students, warmed up and ready to go. A hush falls over the room as Miss Raine walks to the front.

  She clears her throat. ‘You’ve all heard the rumours so I’m going to get through this quickly.’

  Christian and I trade looks. We’re pretty sure we know what’s coming next.

  ‘For the first time in thirty years,’ Miss Raine continues, ‘the world’s most prestigious ballet competition, the Prix de Fonteyn, will be held in Sydney.’

  There’s a collective gasp from the first years behind us.

  ‘Preliminaries will be held at the end of the semester, followed by the Nationals, where it will be decided who goes on to represent Australia.’

  I glance across to Abigail, certain that she’ll be wanting this just as desperately as I do. The Prix de Fonteyn is the Olympics of dance! But instead of sending me a snooty look, she smiles at me. Abigail? Smiling about something as competitive as the Prix de Fonteyn? Weirder and weirder.

  Christian elbows me. Miss Raine is still speaking.

  ‘The Academy and the Company have been asked to be part of the launch tomorrow.’ She smiles at the man standing behind her. ‘Sebastian is choreographing.’

  Sebastian Karamakov. Kat and Ethan’s dad. But I don’t want to think about Ethan right now …

  Sebastian moves forward, arms folded casually, in control. ‘The international judges will be in t
he audience. I can’t stress enough that our school will be representing the entire dance community. This is your chance to make a lasting impression.’

  I turn to Christian again, my face glowing. Is it just my imagination, or was Sebastian looking directly at me when he said those last words?

  Don’t worry, I think, I intend to.

  I’m standing behind the barre with Christian and Sammy, watching some of the first years rehearse their piece for tomorrow’s performance, when Sebastian lopes over.

  ‘Tara? I’d like you to do the solo.’

  Me? The solo? You bet.

  Christian grins. ‘Told you.’

  ‘Thank you so much,’ I gush to Sebastian. ‘I won’t let you down, I promise.’

  Sebastian tilts his head. ‘Ethan will run through it with you.’

  Ethan is here? I’d been so excited by Sebastian’s news I hadn’t noticed him come into the studio. But now he’s standing right in front of me, and there’s nowhere else I can look.

  ‘Hi,’ I manage, feeling lame. The next thing I know Sebastian’s called Christian away, leaving the two of us totally alone. ‘Um, how are you?’

  ‘Never better,’ Ethan says flatly, his eyes cold. ‘Can you meet back here at two?’

  I shrug. ‘Sure. That should give me enough time to have lunch and unpack and …’ I stop, realising he’s not really interested in my schedule.

  ‘See you then,’ Ethan says, walking off dismissively.

  Abigail’s already in our room when I finally arrive. She’s being weird Abigail again, burbling on happily about beds and sides of the room and morning sun. I’m not sure I can handle all this sweetness and light.

  There’s a knock on the door and Miss Raine appears in the doorway, her arm around a slim blonde girl the same age as us.

  ‘Good, you’re both here,’ Miss Raine announces efficiently. She pushes the girl forwards. ‘This is my goddaughter, Grace, who’s visiting from London. I’d like one of you to show her around.’

  Grace leans forward, her eyes flashing impishly. ‘I told her I was old enough to make my own play dates but Lucy keeps me on a short leash.’

  Miss Raine’s name is Lucy? Who knew? I can’t wait to tell Kat.

  Miss Raine smiles fondly at her goddaughter. ‘I’ve been trying to convince Grace to get back into ballet but perhaps you two will have more luck.’

  As soon as she leaves Grace flops down on the bed beside me. ‘Yay. New people. I’ve been under house arrest the last month.’

  ‘What did you do?’ Abigail asks her, clipping some leaves from her plant.

  Grace yawns. ‘My dad’s getting remarried and I upset the stepmothers. And I grew up here, so …’

  Abigail puts down her clippers. ‘Well, I’m Abigail, and this is Tara,’ she adds, giving me a rapturous smile. ‘She’s the most naturally talented dancer in our year.’

  That’s it. I can’t take it any more.

  ‘Okay, stop,’ I blurt, holding up a hand in protest. ‘You have to explain whatever it is you’re up to.’

  ‘Me?’ Abigail asks, her eyes widening. ‘Nothing.’

  If only I could believe that.

  Abigail’s shoulders droop a little. ‘Okay, I agree that last year I alienated quite a few people around me.’

  ‘So now you’ve decided to be … nice?’

  Abigail nods enthusiastically. ‘Nice, yes. I think opening up to people could even improve my dancing. Today, I don’t have to be perfect, I just have to be me.’

  Grace stares at Abigail for a long moment, then moves a little closer to me.

  ‘If I get a choice of chaperone,’ she whispers, ‘do you mind if I pick you?’

  Ethan walks into the studio just as Grace is leaving. It was our last stop on her tour of the Academy. They exchange a few words and then she’s gone, leaving me alone with him.

  ‘Are you ready to get started?’ Ethan asks, slotting a CD into the player. It sounds like he wants to be here even less than I do.

  I walk towards him, my heart thumping. Why do these things always have to be so hard?

  ‘Do you want to talk about anything first?’ I offer nervously. ‘Since we’re going to be working together …’

  Ethan stares me down. ‘I don’t think there’s much to talk about, Tara. You said you were staying with me over the break, but then you got a better offer.’

  ‘That’s not what happened,’ I blurt, stung.

  Ethan’s top lip curls. ‘You chose Christian. Again. And I was left looking like an idiot. Again. That sucked for about five minutes, but then I moved on.’

  So it’s true then. He really does hate me. I stare at my feet.

  ‘So, one more time, are you ready to get started?’

  I nod, wondering how I’m going to manage to get through the next five minutes, let alone a whole rehearsal with him.

  ‘Great,’ says Ethan, his voice icy. ‘Chassé posé into arabesque.’

  An hour later I’m still dipping and turning and performing arabesques, only now I’m drenched in sweat. Ethan is working me hard. Nothing I do is good enough for him. Finally, I call it quits. Even machines have to stop for a rest sometimes.

  ‘Your dancing is really sloppy, Tara,’ Ethan chides me. ‘You’re out of shape.’

  ‘What?!’

  ‘Just keep going into the fouetté turns.’

  I stand in the middle of the floor, hands on hips. ‘You totally just said that I looked fat.’

  Ethan rolls his eyes. ‘No, I didn’t. Don’t be so sensitive.’

  So now I’m the sensitive one? He’s the one acting like a spoilt child. He orders me to repeat the steps, again and again, and I try, but by now I’m too angry and too exhausted to get them right.

  ‘You’re not coaching me, you’re punishing me,’ I tell him. ‘And you know what? I know the choreography now so I’m just going to go rehearse on my own.’

  I slam out of the studio. If he wants to sulk, he can do it all on his own. Right now I need my friends.

  I grab my swimmers and head down to the beach to join Christian, Sammy and Kat. But it’s going to take more than a swim in the harbour to cool down my anger over the way Ethan’s just treated me.

  ‘I mean, yes, he was sort of my mentor but it’s not like I’m new and clueless any more,’ I complain to Christian. ‘I had the lead role in the end of year performance, remember.’

  Christian sighs. ‘Okay, it’s day one, and we’re already talking about Ethan.’

  He’s right. But I just can’t let it go. ‘You think I was wrong to walk out on rehearsal?’

  Christian swims towards me, concern in his eyes. ‘Hey, I think this year you’re starting out on top, so any knock you get will feel like failure. You just have to be tough. Don’t let the small stuff get to you.’

  He ducks down beneath the water and pulls my legs out from under me, making me squeal.

  Ethan? Who’s he?

  The next day at rehearsal, I’m determined to start things off with Ethan on the right foot. I guess if someone had changed their plans at the last minute and let me down I’d be pretty upset, too. I make my way through the groups of dancers limbering up on the Opera House stage, ready for their final run through before the performance starts.

  ‘Hi,’ I say, holding out my hand in greeting. ‘I’m Tara Webster. I don’t think we’ve met.’

  Ethan shrugs me off.

  I try again. ‘Look, you have every right to be angry with me. I forgot to say sorry yesterday. So … sorry.’

  He’s about to reply when Sebastian appears, calling for the soloists to come on stage so we can rehearse our bows for the end of the performance.

  That’s me. ‘Later, okay?’ I say to Ethan, flashing him a smile.

  I run over to join the members of the Company, excited at the thought of working with them. Sebastian stops me before I reach them.

  ‘Tara.’ His voice is abrupt. ‘We don’t need you here.’

  What? ‘But … I thought you j
ust asked for the soloists?’

  ‘We found a replacement,’ Sebastian mutters, guiding me away from the senior dancers to the side of the stage. ‘I was disappointed you couldn’t make this a priority.’

  And then suddenly Grace appears out of nowhere.

  ‘Tell me you mind,’ she says. ‘I’m looking for excuses.’

  Grace is my replacement? She’s not even dressed properly for rehearsal. What’s going on?

  Everyone’s staring at me. I storm over to Ethan, stunned that he could be this cruel.

  ‘You know you gave me no choice when you walked out of rehearsal,’ he tells me, his voice defensive. ‘You can dance in the corps instead.’

  How dare he? ‘The Prix de Fonteyn judges are going to be in the audience,’ I point out. ‘This was my big chance to make an impression. I can’t believe that you would just …’

  ‘Just what? Ditch you for a better option?’

  And this time, it’s Ethan who walks away from me.

  I’m standing in the wings with Christian, waiting for the performance to start, when Grace arrives, dressed in her soloist’s outfit. My soloist’s outfit.

  ‘Tara!’ she says, all smiles. ‘How many fouettés is it again?’

  I turn away, amazed that anyone could be this insensitive.

  Grace pulls a face. ‘You did mind? You should have said.’

  ‘No, I loved it when you stole my solo,’ I grind out. ‘When was the last time you danced, Grace?’

  ‘A year. Ish.’ This is obviously all just a big joke to her.

  ‘Right,’ I say, struggling to keep my cool. ‘You should know, Ethan’s sending you out there to embarrass you so he can prove a point to me.’

  I bite my lip, wishing I could recall that last bit. But it’s too late.

  ‘Ouch. Got it,’ Grace huffs, turning to walk away.

  The music for my group piece finishes. I follow Abigail and the other dancers to the side of the stage, curious to see how Grace will cope with my solo.