Chapter Fourteen

Nutcracker

Pine Place Dance Academy didn't have the rigorous ballet program I needed to pursue my professional goals. By freshman year, I began driving into Charleston, an hour each way, to train at a ballet school. My parents couldn't have been happier to see me get my license, even though I wasn't the most responsible driver.

Early senior year, on my way to Nutcracker auditions, I ran out of gas.

On the side of the road, just outside of Pine Place town limits, I called my dad. I sat in my Toyota Corolla, feeling panic rise in my throat, not because I was stranded, but because I would be late. I couldn't miss the audition. I'd just spent four weeks at the San Francisco Ballet's summer intensive and had every intention of scoring one of two Sugar Plum roles. I'd split it with someone, I didn't care who. However, with ten seniors to cast, the competition was high.

I heard the gravel move before I saw the car pull up behind me. Through the rearview mirror, I watched Tucker hop out of his black truck. He walked up to my door and opened it.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I must have looked stressed. I felt stressed. I gawked at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I was at your house borrowing some fishing stuff from your dad when you called. He's getting gas with your mom. I'm going to take you to your audition."

I stared at him. "How do you know about that?"

"I heard you talk about it at lunch."

"You were sitting on the other end of the table -"

He snapped, "Do you want a ride or not?"

We'd only been back in school a week. I looked at the hand holding my door open and remembered how it felt running along my backside two months before. I thought about the last time I heard his voice - you go first - and the heaviness that throbbed in my core when his tongue danced against mine.

"Ella?"

I shook back to attention. "Yeah. Coming." I exhaled, grabbing my bag and my phone, scooting as far from his body as possible.

In the truck, my knees shook. I kept my eyes glued to the clock. We still had a thirty-minute drive. I was supposed to be in the audition in twenty-five.

"Can you drive a little faster?" I begged.

He gripped the steering wheel. " No . If I get in a car accident and you die, your mother will kill me."

"Well, you'd get a great view of my ass down in hell, so it might be worth it for you." I threw him a sarcastic smile. I collected my dance bag and flipped Tucker's rearview mirror down. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I said, "I'm going to have to change in the backseat. Keep your eyes on the road."

Changing into my leotard and tights meant that I'd have to become completely nude. I climbed into the back and reiterated, "Seriously Tucker, do not look back here."

"Oh, calm down," he grumbled.

I stared at the back of his head when I pulled my shirt off. I tried to angle myself behind him, out of his periphery. I took my shoes and pants off. "Turn the music up," I ordered.

Tucker scoffed, "Ella, I'm not going to bust a nut from the sound of you changing your clothes."

An image flooded my brain, and I closed my eyes to force it away. I peeled off my bra and rested it on his right shoulder. "You can hold on to this, since I know how fond you are of me wearing it."

He let out a sound, somewhere between a grunt and a sigh, but didn't move his head, hand or my bra. I finished changing and climbed back into the front seat, stuffing my clothes into my bag.

As I started twisting my hair into a bun, he said, "It's not a big deal if you're five minutes late."

"Yes, it is."

"Your parents pay these people money, they're not going to turn you away."

"You'd think so, but…" I pulled a bobby pin from between my teeth. "The auditions are about being fair. If I'm late, it looks like I don't care, and then they can't give me Sugar Plum because it wouldn't be fair because I was late to the audition."

"That's not sound logic." I felt the car speed up. Tucker added, "You know you're getting whatever part you want anyway."

"I don't know that."

Tucker looked at me sideways. "I've seen you. You're the best dancer there."

I squeezed a pin into my hair elastic. "When have you seen me dance?"

"Well, there's every time you're in a kitchen. Any time we're walking anywhere. The courtyard at school. The beach, the park, Johnny's basement -"

I clarified, "When have you seen me dance with my ballet company?"

He fixed his rearview mirror and switched lanes. "I went to your fairytale thing with Johnny."

" Sleeping Beauty ?"

"Yeah."

"You were there?"

He nodded. "Yes."

I remembered seeing Lori and Christian after one show. I remembered Steven and Gracie and Hattie sitting in the front row. I remember the opening night that Johnny came with Sarah Reilly, his girlfriend. I asked Tucker, "Did you leave early?"

"No."

"Then how come I didn't see you after the show when Johnny came back to bring me flowers?"

"Did Johnny say he brought them for you?" The tone of his voice careens quickly into anger.

I shrugged. "I mean, I guess I just assumed."

Tucker took a beat. He clenched his jaw. "What did the note on the flowers say?"

"I don't remember a note."

He frowned. "Do I take this turn right here?"

I looked at where he was pointing. "Yeah. It's right on the left." I twisted my body to face him. "What did the note say?"

"Something nice from your handsome friend, blah, blah…"

I cocked my head. " You're my handsome friend?"

"Whoa. Calm down." He leaned toward the window. "You don't need to be blatantly obsessed with me." His lip curled in a smirk, and he threw a wink my way.

I stared at him. "If the flowers came with a note, and if I read the note, then I would know you were there?"

He nodded, slowly.

There's one clear, oft-repeated phrase that would have signaled Tucker's presence. Him coming to the show, buying me flowers, was unpredictable. Telling me he loved me in a handwritten note? Predictable.

"Okay." I relaxed back into the seat. "You can drop me off here." I slid my feet into sandals and tossed my bag over my shoulder. Tucker slowed down in front of the building, and I hopped out of the truck. I ran to the door, waving back and calling out, "Thanks for the ride!"

Luckily, class didn't start on time. I snatched my ballet shoes and left my bag in the hallway, running into the studio just as the portable ballet barres were being carried out. I rushed in and stood next to Macy, who snorted a laugh and lifted her chin to check the time.

"By the skin of your teeth," she teased.

I tied my skirt around my waist. "The moms are watching, huh?"

The auditions were for anyone twelve and up, so junior and senior companies were crammed together in one room when we typically took class in separate spaces. A dozen mothers rested their elbows on the windowsills of the square glass panes that lined the back wall. They were pointing and talking to each other, mouthing things to their young dancers.

I rolled my ankles and stretched out my calves.

"Who is that ?" Heaven asked.

I looked to a window, finding Tucker standing behind it, flashing me a smile.

Easily, Macy answered, "That's Ella's boyfriend."

Tucker winked and I felt the response on my tongue. No, he's not my boyfriend, he's not even my friend, really, he just drove me here, I don't know why he's lurking in the back.

Macy was a junior, we went to school together, she knew who Elijah Tucker was. If she thought he was my boyfriend, who else could have made that assumption? I racked my brain for an interaction that would cause this misunderstanding.

I barely twisted my ankle the year before and was terrified to make it worse, so Tucker carried me to my classes for a week. He yelled down the hallway that he loved me. We stood side by side in the parking lot with our friends before and after school. He left me gifts. He called me beautiful.

Music started to play from the speakers. I waved to our director, Ms. Barb, and gestured that I needed a minute. She nodded and I snuck out of the room while she began explaining the plié combination.

I met Tucker in the hallway.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him.

He said, "I figured I'd wait for you."

"It's going to be a few hours. I'll just get a ride home with Macy."

"It's fine."

"Really Tucker, she can take me home, you don't have to waste your time."

He never wavered. "It's fine, I'll wait."

I assessed his crossed arms and relaxed stance. I wondered if my dad told him to stay with me. I said, "Okay. You can sit in the lobby. The wi-fi password is on the desk."

I went back to the audition and noted that Tucker returned to the window. During barre exercises, every time I returned to my right side, I watched him watching me through the glass. I tried to focus - I could dégagé and rond de jambe blindfolded - but my eyes kept flicking to the light smirk meeting me across a sea of flying feet. I tried to keep my face passive. I tried not to be affected by his presence. When we switched to the left side, I kept my eyes on my reflection, my attention drifting every so often to his chin resting on stacked fists, those smooth, golden cheeks pinching into a smile.

Before we started developpes, Macy whispered, "God, he's so distracting."

I bit back a smile. I actually found myself dancing a little better with Tucker watching. Typically, I would just be going through the motions at barre, focusing on my technique, keeping my turnout engaged, but on that day I paid a little more attention to my posture and gracefulness, the connection between my arms and my head. I wanted to impress him.

The assistant director brushed past me during an attitude balance, adjusting my knee, and said, "Your epaulement is really lovely today, Ella."

When we took a break for center, I collected my pointe shoes from the hallway. I hadn't seen Tucker during the barre stretch or grand battements, so I walked into the lobby to find him, ribbons dragging on the ground. Right then, he walked through the elevator.

"Oh hey," he said with a nod. "Perfect timing." He held out a cold bottle of water.

I took it. "Where did this come from?"

"I went to the Rite Aid next door. I noticed you didn't have any water." He looked at my busy hands and said, "Open your mouth." When I frowned, he shook an open bag of peanut butter M&M's.

I leaned my head back and Tucker shook some onto my tongue. I laughed, straightening up so that I didn't choke and commented, "You don't like the peanut butter ones."

"Yeah, but you do." He squinted up his face. "The peanut butter tastes weird."

"No, it doesn't."

"Yes, it does . The reason it works in a Reese's is because the peanut butter is smoother, and the chocolate is just better." He tossed a few into his mouth and said, "These are just not good."

"Then don't eat them." I made a play for the bag, but he snatched it back.

"I'm going to starve if I don't eat something."

"I'm halfway done."

Tucker nodded his chin at a group of girls giggling and walking behind us. He muttered, "Your competition?"

I snorted. "Um, no, they're like thirteen."

The other senior girls walked by right then and I whispered, "But they are."

Tucker squinted his eyes. "That girl in the green, her standing leg doesn't straighten and the other one, with the red hair, her turn out sucks." He ruffled his hair. "Dance moms are mean . I got the whole rundown. I might have signed you up to carpool with Kennedy."

He reached for the twisted strap of my leotard. "But they were like, ‘that Ella Moynes is the most beautiful dancer'." His hand dragged down my shoulder. "I said, you should see her with her top off."

"Eli!" I smacked his hand away and he cackled, tossing his head back.

The senior girls walked by again, whispering to each other. They paused at the desk, chatting with Benito who answered the phones, looking at us over their shoulders. I liked the whispering. I liked how Jessie French ran her eyes unabashedly over Tucker's tall body, how Heaven kept pinging her eyes back and forth between us. My pointe shoes dangled in my hand. The other girls were barefoot or still in their ballet shoes. I heard the adagio music begin in the studio, meaning we all had shoes to change into and stretching to begin, but they remained in the lobby for one reason only - to spy on me and Tucker.

I liked that they thought he was my boyfriend.

My face burned before I did it. I moved the water bottle into the other hand and got up on my toes, gripping the center of Tucker's shirt to pull him closer to me. His eyebrows flashed. I pressed my lips to his cheek.

"What was that for?" he whispered, still leaning into me.

I rocked back on my heels. "You're just being nice to me."

"I'm always nice to you," he said, heavily. His eyes lingered on my mouth.

I looked up from under my eyebrows, challenging.

He shrugged. "I'm inadvertently not nice to you. It's never intentional."

Macy peered over the wall and announced, "Guys, Barb is going over the combination."

The other girls squealed and ran off. I swayed backward as Tucker swayed into me. "I have to go," I told him. I walked backward, holding up my bottle. "Thanks for the water. I'll be done in a little bit."

I went back into class with a rogue, uncontrollable smile on my face. Giddy, one might say. He had leaned into me as if he wanted more than a cheek kiss and it made me feel tingly, excited.

When the audition was over, I had to wake Tucker from an open-mouthed sleep on the chair. He blinked awake and rubbed his face, mumbling, "Can I buy you dinner?"

Not, "Do you want to stop for dinner?" Or "Do you want to swing through McDonald's?"

The way he phrased it made me feel nervous. I wondered if that's how he asked a girl on a date. If he was asking me such a thing.

The excitement dropped, fast.

I swallowed and shook my head. "No, let's just go home."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. My mom's making meatloaf anyway."

He stood and stretched. "Your mom makes good meatloaf." He took my heavy black dance bag from my shoulder without a word.

We walked back to his truck, and I remember thinking, good, this feels right.

Normal would be for Tucker to come inside and have some dinner, pop over to Johnny's to play a video game. My dad would act like he did the most gallant thing in the world by coming to my rescue and I'd be free to get ready for bed. There wouldn't be cheek kisses or pretending he was my boyfriend, no meals being shared at a restaurant. As much as I liked the bubbly feeling of him watching me that day, I liked the idea of normal more.

For both weekends of The Nutcracker, I would play Sugar Plum on the Friday and Saturday evening shows and Heaven would take over for Saturday and Sunday matinees. By December 9 th , I'd already performed at different schools around the area, at the mall, at two fall festivals and a tree lighting ceremony. I never got nervous when I performed, but as I dropped my makeup bag on my dressing room vanity that first night, butterflies came in out of nowhere.

This could potentially have been my last Nutcracker ever. This was the biggest role I'd ever performed. The choreography was classic and although I knew most audience members in Charleston didn't know a lick about ballet or care about the quality of a pre-professional company production, I thought of the ballerinas who performed the exact Sugar Plum choreography and how I measured up.

A mom volunteering backstage came into the dressing room and said, "Ella, some boy brought these flowers for you." She placed a vase of red roses in front of me.

Macy came over and took the little card. She read, "I love you. Break a leg, Beautiful." She batted her eyelashes. "They're from Elijah Tucker."

The other girls swooned and cooed, and I announced, "All right, all right."

Becca made kissing sounds and squealed when I tossed a roll of medical tape at her, but a smile crept to my face. It relaxed me for that moment, smelling those beautiful flowers and imagining Tucker buying them, writing that note, driving all the way to the theater three hours before the show started. I wasn't even sure he was coming. Our parents were, but he never mentioned anything. He didn't talk to me much at all unless we were alone, which rarely happened.

During intermission, I perfected my hairpiece, shaking my head violently to make sure nothing came out. I double-checked the stitches on my pointe shoe ribbons. I stepped into booties to keep my feet warm and walked down to the green room. The six and seven-year-old angels were being lined up. The marzipan dancers walked past, collecting their flutes. Clara and the prince's thrones were being wheeled into place.

I waited in the corner, rubbing my red lips together. The glitter from my pink tutu had sprinkled onto my tights and along my arms. I breathed deeply, my chest pressing into the boning of my bodice, feeling tight and contracting. My skin itched from the elastic strap on my shoulder.

I heard my name being called distantly.

"Ell?"

I looked at the side door, watching it close, and then noticed Tucker striding through the green room toward me. He had on slacks and a black shirt, and his hair was smooth, the way I knew it would be on Christmas Eve or graduation. It normally folded in multiple directions.

"What are you doing?" I asked when he came up to me.

He looked at my bouncing leg, my tutu, my makeup. His knuckles rapped my gelled hair. "That's quite the helmet."

I leaned away from his touch but didn't speak.

"I just came in to see if you got my flowers. What's wrong with you?" He narrowed his eyes. "Are you nervous?"

"Yes," I grumbled.

"You're never nervous."

"I know."

"You love attention."

" I know ." I twisted my fingers together. "I don't know why but I feel all jittery, like I can't catch my breath." I tugged on my bodice and gasped, "This is too tight!"

He said, "Calm down."

I spun around. "Undo the clasps."

"Really?"

"Please, I just need some room to breathe before I lose it."

"Okay, okay." He came up behind me, breathing down on my neck.

"They're hook-and-eyes. You have to-"

"I know how to unhook things, Ella," he muttered in my ear.

I shut my eyes at the suggestion. "Gross."

Silently, Tucker undid the clasps, and I clutched the front of the costume to my chest. Someone announced five minutes until the curtain was back up. When the cold air hit my bare back, I didn't feel any more relaxed or steady.

Noticing this, Tucker's warm hand spread along my spine. I flinched. He told me to breathe.

I kept my eyes closed, breathing through my nose, hoping my eyeliner wasn't smearing. Folding my tutu down, Tucker came up beside me and put his other hand on my right shoulder. He pulled me to his side, running his hand down the length of my back and neck. The tightness of his grip, the pressure of his hand, made me feel weighted. He breathed slowly beside me, and my pattern started to match.

His hand went low down my back, dipping into the inside of my costume. His fingers stretched along the side of my waist. I jolted and he said quickly, "Sorry. Sorry."

"I think I'm okay now," I whispered. I opened my eyes. "You can hook me back in."

He nodded silently. When my costume was righted, I heard the two-minute warning and spun back to him. "You're all covered in glitter." I brushed his arms clean.

"At least it's not one of your battle wounds."

I rolled my eyes. "Why did you come back here?"

"I just wanted to see you before you went on."

Without thinking, I muttered, "You always seem to be exactly where I need to you be."

He blinked. "My mom says I have a sixth sense when it comes to you."

I cleared my throat and stepped back. Jeffrey hurried down the stairs from his dressing room and yelled to me, "Ella, the orchestra's about to start."

"Who's that?" Tucker asked.

"My partner."

He clucked his teeth. "I'll bet he loves having his hands all over you."

"He's gay, Tucker."

"Sure." He pinched his lips into a tight line. I held onto his elbow while I pulled the booties off of my pointe shoes. His eyeline shifted. "What's with them?"

I twisted my head to see the group of pastel-dressed girls whispering to each other in a corner, watching us. Macy points and mutters something. "They think you're my boyfriend." I shrugged, as if that was the wildest assumption.

"Because of the flowers?"

I laughed lightly. "Among other things."

The orchestra began tuning their instruments, and I jumped. "I have to go!"

Before I could leave for the stage, Tucker snatched my hands back. He wove his fingers into mine, pressing our palms together.

Wide-eyed, I gritted, "What are you doing?"

He flashed his perfect smile. "Making you the most popular girl in ballet class."

"Wow. You think highly of yourself, huh?"

"Yes. I do." He paused. "I'd kiss you, but I don't want to mess up your makeup."

I growled, "You kiss me and you're going to need an ice pack . Tucker, I have to go!"

He smiled, tightening out hands together, looking at my chest rising and falling. He dipped his head and kissed the side of my neck. I inhaled sharply, my shoulders lifting.

Someone screamed, " Ella !"

"Shit," I gasped, tearing myself from Tucker's hands. I ran toward the wings, careful not to fall, seeing Jeffrey on the other side of the stage holding his arms up. I mouthed that I was sorry and watched the angels shuffle into a new formation, waving plastic candles around. My skin burned from where Tucker had kissed me. I palmed my temple, feeling lightheaded, and prayed that my bodice had been properly buttoned back up.

The music reached its crescendo and I ran out on stage.