Petals On the Wind by V.C. Andrews

Author:V.C. Andrews
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Horror
Published: 2011-06-12T17:20:27+00:00

April's Fool

.

Drive. Dedication. Desire. Determination. The four D's of the ballet world we had to live by. If Madame Z. had been tough on us before Christmas, now she clamped down on us such a heavy schedule of practice all we did was work. She lectured on how perfect The Royal Ballet was, strictly classical--but we were to do everything in our own unique American way, classical

. . but more beautiful and innovative.

Julian was absolutely ruthless, even demonic. I began to really despise him! We were both wet with sweat and our hair hung in strings. My leotard was glued to my skin. Julian wore only a loin cloth. He yelled as if I were deaf, "Do it right this time, damn it! I don't want to be here all night!"

"Stop yelling at me, Julian! I can hear perfectly well!"

"Then do it right! First take three steps and then you kick, then jump for me to catch, and for God's sake this time lay back immediately! Don't stay upright and stiff, the moment I catch you fall backwards and go limp--if you can manage to do anything right or graceful today."

That was my trouble. I didn't trust him now. I was afraid he was going to try to hurt me. "Julian, you yell at me as if I'm deliberately doing everything wrong!"

"It seems to me you are! If you really wanted to do it right you could. All you have to do is take three steps, kick, then jump, and I lift and you fall back. Now see if you can get it right at least one time out of fifty tries!"

"Do you think I like this? Look at my armpits," I said as I lifted my arms to show him. "See how raw they are, how you've rubbed the skin off? And tomorrow I'll be black and blue all over from the bruises you make with your hard grasps!"

"Then do it right!" He raged not only with his voice, but with his jet eyes, and I was terribly afraid he was just waiting for the opportunity to let me fall--on purpose--for revenge. But I got up, and we did it again. And again I failed to fall back and fully trust him. This time he threw me to the floor where I lay panting, gasping, and wondering why the hell I kept this up.

"You're gasping for breath?" he asked

sarcastically, towering above me, his bare feet wide apart and straddling my legs. His bare chest glistened with perspiration that dripped down to fall on me. "I do all the hard work, and you lie there sprawled out and exhausted looking. What happened to you down there? Did you use all your energy making it with your doctor?"

"Shut up! I'm tired from twelve hours of continuous practice, that's all!"

"If you're tired, I'm ten times more so--so get up, and let's do it again--and get it right this time, goddamn you!"

"Don't you swear at me! Get yourself another partner! You tripped me

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