The Truth About Goodbye by Russell Ricard

Author:Russell Ricard [Ricard, Russell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wise Ink Creative Publishing
Published: 2017-03-30T05:00:00+00:00

Thirteen

Its orange vinyl cover, maybe a ghost from the sixties, often makes Sebastian wonder how long the half-moon chair he nestles into has lived in the studio. Perhaps at least as long as the brown folding chair on which his papier-mâché leg, with its bully weight, is anchored.

It pleases Sebastian that Reid was on time for class. He’s also grateful for Chloe’s support. Assistant for the day, she commandeers the quintet that awaits, in staggered lines, their next round of orders.

Mrs. Woo reads the New York Times between the choreographer’s starts and stops, his dancers, thankfully, fully along for the ride with his still disjointed methods.

Sebastian notices the paper’s headline: Afghan War Bride Saves Her Home, but Victory Is Brief. No shit! And how shameful that the United States, even in 2008, still participates in the theaters of war in both Afghanistan and Iraq. He exhales. What kind of real victory is there with any brief accomplishment, especially in a circular game of you hurt me, so I hurt you?

“That was much better. It’s come a long way,” Sebastian says to his small troop. “It was tighter. Especially sequence A.”

Kathleen raises her pudgy hand. “Can we start piecing together the steps anytime soon? I’m seriously nervous I won’t be ready for the recital.”

The collective wags their head. Sebastian wags back, his neck suddenly tense.

“Can we at least know what song we’re going to be using?” Millie says. “And maybe do the steps to that music?”

Sebastian folds his arms. Yes, victory is brief; the troop was under his control a few moments ago, and now they’ve gone rogue. Even so, he doesn’t want to tell them his choice—Fred Astaire’s “Pick Yourself Up”—because he might still change his mind. “I promise,” he says, “that when we meet again, we’ll practice with the actual music we’re using for the recital. Now, let’s hit it. But this time, without Chloe. I don’t want you to rely on anyone.”

Chloe harrumphs. Her black, low-cut leotard calls attention to her narrow waist and silver tap shoes. She raises her arms into a V over her head, her dark locks bouncing as she curtsies to the class. They ooh and ahh, beg mercy from Sebastian. Chloe bats her eyes and places her hands in prayer position.

Reid flashes what might be the biggest frown ever: chin tucked, eyes looking upward, his mouth fixed in a pout that accentuates his sun-bleached, kissable lips.

Kissable. Sebastian slaps his wrist. Don’t go there, he orders as he rubs away the sting. “All right,” he finally says. “One last time.”

Chloe claps her hands as if she’s just won a spot on The Price Is Right. She pivot steps and hightails it toward the center of the room.

Sebastian winks at his best friend. Then to his troop, he says: “And this time, I want to see more pep and precision.”

Mrs. Woo flips down the newspaper that covers her face. “Pep’s my middle name,” she hoots with two stubby thumbs up. She creases the newspaper in half and sets it next to her on the piano bench.

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