Ann Martin - Baby-Sitters Club 027

"Is it already time?" I asked.

"Now or never," she said with a smile.

Becca and I called good-bye and followed Mom to the car.

"Break a leg, Jess!" Derek yelled after me. That's show biz talk. What he really meant was "good luck." So. One event down and one to go.

The final audition. I took a deep breath.

Well, I thought to myself, this is it.

Chapter 14.

When we reached the theater, I changed into my dance clothes, found myself a quiet corner, and began the extensive warm-up I had planned. The warm-up really helped to calm me down. My head was still full of partying and relay races. I had to shift to ballet.

As I was stretching, I looked around me. Actually the place didn't seem quite so scary anymore. The stage manager and choreographer were talking in the front seats, and the piano accompanist was also warming up, playing scales and snatches of Swan Lake themes. I didn't see any of the clique-y "gossip girls" - I guess they'd all been cut - but all around me other ballerinas were going up to their toes, testing their balance. Those of us who were left had all staked out little bits of territory for ourselves. In a funny way, the place was almost beginning to feel like home.

Suddenly, I could really imagine coming here and performing. It'd be like this every night, I thought, and that'd be great. There is something magical about all the backstage goings-on in a theater - all the performers getting ready and then going out, transformed, before an audience. For a moment I let a picture of myself onstage slip into my thoughts. I was one of the swan maidens and I was costumed in a beautiful white, feathery tutu. It made me so happy just to think of myself up there.

Well, I thought quickly, I'll know when I leave today whether or not I got into the production. And if I don't make it, I'll just pursue modeling. That would keep me busy. It'd be something new and different. And it couldn't possibly be as difficult - or as nerve-racking - as ballet.

The stage manager clapped her hands to call together all us ballerinas.

"We look like a flock of migrating birds," I heard one joke.

"Swans," another one answered. "We want to be swans." I closed my eyes for a moment. Suddenly, Mme Noelle's words ran through my head. "You're a gifted dancer," she'd said. Well, we would see. I took a deep breath.

The choreographer taught us a long, difficult dance variation, but this time, it was pretty easy to pick up. It was really not much different from the ones we'd learned before. Then he divided us into groups. Oh, no. I was in the first one. That meant I wouldn't even get to watch another group and have time to run the variation through my head. Oh, well, I thought. It'll just be like plunging into a pool.

Actually, I think I danced very well. The choreographer had stuck me front row center onstage, which usually makes me nervous. But this time the music was really in my body. When I lifted my arms up, I could feel my whole torso stretch with them. When I extended a leg, I let it suspend there for a moment before I snapped it down. This is exactly what I love about ballet. Once you've got the technique, you can really express yourself.

In the last couple of steps, I did make a small goof. I rushed a step and then had to slow down to get back on count. I didn't know if the choreographer caught it, or if he did, how much it would count against me. Well, I'm human, I thought. What could I do?

After my group had finished, I found a seat in the audience to watch the others. No doubt about it, the competition was stiff. There were some ballerinas I liked better than others, but, the truth was, we were all good. I couldn't imagine how they would choose among us.

Finally, the last group finished and the girls trickled offstage. I wandered up to stand by the stage manager and wait for the news. The stage manager and choreographer had their heads together, bent over their notes. The stage manager glanced up quickly.

"Okay, everybody," she called. "Thank you very much. We'll talk to you in a few days." A few days? What did she mean? All the other ballerinas had picked up their things and were drifting out the door.

"Excuse me," I said. "Did you say a few days?" "That's right," she smiled. "You can call the office on Wednesday." "You mean we're not going to find out today? I have to wait until Wednesday?" "Yes. That information was on the audition notice," she told me.

Now, how had I missed that?

"Don't worry," she said. I guess I looked pretty upset. "Wednesday will be here before you know it." "Well, thanks," I managed to reply as I started walking toward the door.

"By the way," the stage manager called after me. "Nice audition." "Thanks," I called back, this time a little brighter.

But till Wednesday? I had to wait until Wednesday?

Right after I got home that day, the phone rang. It was Mallory, wanting to know if I'd made it or not.

"I don't know," I wailed. "I have to wait four more days!" "That doesn't seem fair," Mallory said.

"Mallory," I said patiently, "nothing's fair in love or ballet." On Monday, Mallory came home from school with me to keep me company. Poor Mallory. I think I was pretty jittery. I'd told her a little bit about my modeling plans, and I asked her if she minded if I made a few phone calls. Mallory nodded half-heartedly. She stretched out on our couch and began her homework. I got out the index cards I had started. On the top of each card I had written an agent's name and phone number. When I called and got through, I wrote the information he or she gave me onto the card. Information like, "Head shot necessary" or "Print work only." That afternoon I was on the phone for at least fifteen minutes with one agent. I could see Mallory peek up from her books every now and again to watch me. While I was still on that call, Daddy got home from work. He was early. It wasn't even time to leave for our club meeting. He dropped his briefcase on a chair, listened in on my conversation, and smiled at Mallory. Mallory had started to look a little nervous. Probably because I sounded so businesslike, and that's not the usual me.

"Hi, you two," Daddy said when I hung up. Then, "How's the research going?" he asked me.

"Okay." I sighed. "But for work that's supposed to be so arty, there's an awful lot of business involved." "Do you think you're gonna move to L.A.?" Mallory asked abruptly.

I could see that Daddy was going to listen closely to my answer, too.

"Oh, I don't think so," I said. "I think I'll just get as much work in Stamford as I can." "What happens if you become really famous?" asked Mallory.

"Well," I said, "you never know. I mean, there's a chance I could land a TV series - " "Any word from the Swan Lake folks yet?" Daddy cut in.

"Da-a-ad-dy," I whined. "You know that's not till Wednesday." "Tough wait?" he asked.

"I hate waiting!" I practically spit that out. I was surprised at how vehement I sounded.

"I hear you." Daddy smiled. He picked up his briefcase and gave Mallory a reassuring smile.

Then I got on the phone to dial another agent's number. Mallory followed Daddy into the kitchen.

"Do you think she's really going to get on a TV series?" I heard Mallory ask. "I mean, Jessi's my best friend. I'll just die if she moves away." "I think what she really wants," Daddy said carefully, "is to dance in Swan Lake." "I do not," I called after them as I dialed the last digits. "I mean, I don't care one way or the other. Anyway, I'm probably not going to get in. So it doesn't matter." Mallory wandered back into the room and settled back into her place on the couch. I started in on another phone call. Mallory watched me anxiously as I pulled out another index card and started to scribble notes.

Chapter 15.

Well, finally, Wednesday arrived. I hurried home from school, called the theater, asked the question I was dying to ask, and sucked in my breath as I waited for the answer.