Half of My Heart
Russian Time
I went to bed at around 11, which is quite late for me, at the Bolshoi it was lights out at 9:30. Despite the late hour, neither of the girls has come back from wherever they were. I closed my eyes willing myself to sleep, but I found myself waking up at random hours of the night. I attributed it to jetlag, but I knew better. Something about Jordan was electric and it was unsettling. At first I woke at 2:31 AM, 10:31 AM in Russia. Again at 4:09 AM, 12:09 in Russia. Tossing and turning for a few more hours, I decided to get up when my alarm clock read, 6:19 AM, 2:19 PM in Russia. I had to be at the Theatre by 8, despite the fact that classes start 10:30. Mr. Orr, the artistic director, asked for me to come in early for an orientation of sorts.
I decided to take a shower and make breakfast for the girls. I took a long, hot shower to relax my tired muscles. After finishing up my shower and letting my naturally straight hair air dry, I changed into a traditional, plain black leotard with a camisole neckline and pink tights. Black leotard and pink tights were the dress code at both the Bolshoi and the Vaganova School, so they were all I had. I slicked my dark brown hair back into the signature ballet bun and packed my dance bag, a black duffel bag with my name sewn on to it, with extra pointe shoes, lots of hair pins, a water bottle, a first aid kit, an extra leotard, extra tights, leg warmers, a change of clothes, make up, and a face towel. I slipped on a light blue wrap over my leotard and a pair of comfortable grey sweat pants, as well. Before leaving my room, I checked my alarm clock which read, 6:41 AM, 2:41 PM in Russia.
I wandered to the kitchen to start breakfast, but those hopes were dashed when the pantry was empty save for some oatmeal and bags of trail mix, which I took and placed in my dance bag for a snack. The only things in the refrigerator was fruits and cheese. I decided to make some oatmeal with fruit, a typical dancer’s breakfast. I was about halfway through with the oatmeal when Alicia stumbled in to kitchen wearing a black leotard with a halter neckline and a twist front.
“Good morning," I greeted, feigning cheerfulness. "I was going to make you guys breakfast, but you don’t have any food,”
“Oh, well we don’t really eat much,” Alicia responded, but quickly adding, “we usually go out.” Alicia pulled on her sweats and t-shirt, “Weird though, we went shopping for groceries on Friday,” she muttered to herself.
When I finished my oatmeal, I washed my bowl and asked, “So, where’s Anna?”
“Oh, she’ll meet us there. I don’t think she came home.”
I merely nodded again as I imagined all the possibilities to why Anna didn’t come back last night, I gulped the lump forming in my throat. All the stories of Pittsburgh being a big, bag, dangerous city echoed in my head. I changed the subject, “So, where were you last night?”
“I went out to meet a couple of friends for some drinks,” Alicia responded with a smile as she grabbed her dance bag, “We should get going, the bus gets here at 7:15 sharp,” I took a glance at the clock on the wall, it read 7:02 AM, 3:02 PM in Russia, "But knowing the Port Authority, it'll probably come late."
I followed Alicia as we went out to the bus stop that was right in front of our apartment, and luckily we got there just in time. We sat next to each other towards the back of the bus, “Alicia, can I ask you a question?”
“You kind of just did, but okay,” She joked.
“Well, last night when I came back from my dinner with Jordan, Robinson said something about rules, and, um, what rules?”
“Oh, that’s right you super strwent to dinner with Jordan Staal, how was it? Anyways, Rob is talking about is that ever since, Mikhail, the old director, retired the new guy who replaced him, Terence Orr, he’s a really nice guy but he’sict. Like, since a lot of the dancers live in the same apartment building as us and a lot of them are underaged, you have to be in the apartment by 1:00 AM. Rob tells Terrence who gets in late, who gets in early, who leaves, who doesn’t, but here’s a secret. If you think you’re going to come late, don’t come back because if Rob doesn’t see you, he can’t tell Mr. Orr. Rob’ll just assume that you came in during his break,” Alicia said in a hushed voice.
“Is that why Anna didn’t come back? She wasn’t going to make curfew?” I was relieved at the thought that she had not come back because she had missed curfew and not bleeding in a gutter, but I was stilled worried about where she had spent the night and with whom. “In Russia we had a curfew too, but it was much earlier, 9:30 PM. Dinner with Jordan was good, we went to an Italian resturant.”
“Yup. 9:30! What time did your classes and rehearsals end?” her voice rising a whole octave, due to her disbelief.
“Classes and rehearsals ended at 6:30 and then we have dinner at 7:00 and then its lights out at 9:30,” I replied simply, it never struck me as odd that 9:30 was early.
“Two and half hours! What can you do in two and a half hours?”
“Well, usually we just relax and rest, we lived there, we ate there, we took classes there, we performed there, we did everything there and we weren’t allowed to go out except on the weekends. So we were pretty tired by the time dinner came.”
“Hmm, that’s crazy! I don’t even think clubs open at 9:30,” Alicia said more to herself than to me. We didn’t talk much after that, we rode the bus in silence, which I was glad for. I checked my watch for the time, 7:29 AM, 3:29 PM in Russia. Stations blinked by before Alicia abruptly announced, “This is our stop." She grabbed me by my elbow and led me out of the bus.
There before me was a truly opulent building, the sheer size of it and the intricate decoration of the architecture was awe worthy. “This is it, this is where we perform and take our classes. This is where we will be spending an upwards of 30 hours a week. Come on are you gonna keep staring at or go inside?”
I blushed and I followed Alicia inside of the theatre, going through the stage door which leads to a maze of hallways, some going to the lobby, some going to the stage, others going to the studios in the back.
“We’ll find Terrence and he’ll tell you all the stuff you need to know,” Alicia said. We, more like Alicia, spotted Terrence talking to one of the crew guys and we headed right to him. I was too busy trying to remember the right bus to get home. “Hi, Mr. Orr, this is Svetlana the Bolshoi girl."
I recognized Terrence Orr from when he came to Russia last spring. He looked like a nice man, like someone’s uncle or dad. He was chubby from having retired years ago and had a bristly mustache, he was balding and his hair was streaked with gray. He had created quite the scandal, when he married one of his principal ballerinas. It was very Balanchine of him.
“Ah, so nice to see you again Svetlana. Now let’s go to my office so we can discuss your future here.”
Alicia gave me an encouraging wink and thumbs up, which made me smile.
Mr. Orr led me to his office, which was a good sized room with lush carpet, posters of past productions and pictures from his dancing days hanging on the wall. There was a large, dark wooden desk with intricate carvings on the legs and two chairs, as well as plenty of filing cabinets. “Please sit, now Svetlana… What was your last name again?”
“Khitrova, Svetlana Khitrova.”
“Wait; are you Aliya Kapranova’s daughter?”
“Yes,” I respond casting my eyes downward my cheeks flushing, I could never seem to escape my family’s legacy.
“Well, that’s wonderful! Ah, it seems just like yesterday, when I danced with your mother, she was a guest at ABT. She was a wonderful Giselle.” Mr. Orr’s eyes become glassy and wistful as though he was reliving a past memory, “It’s always nice to have new talent on board. Our upcoming productions are the fall showcase and The Nutcracker. Our casting of The Nutcracker is based on what your teachers’ opinions of you, your audition and how you do at the fall showcase. So, that makes your audition for the fall showcase very important. Auditions for the showcase, and all dancers must audition, are at the end of the month. The fall showcase consists of group work and solos, of all styles, it sort of an introduction to our performing season. We expect you here at 9:30 AM, no later. Classes usually last till lunch then we usually have rehearsals but since we don’t have a show coming up for a while, so you will be taking a pas de deux class, which will end at around 3. This is our off-season so there are not that many rehearsals but wait till after the fall showcase, you’re rehearsal schedule will be packed and they’ll replace your pas de deux class and it won't be uncommon for you to stay here till late in the evening.
“Also, we have a strict dress code here, black leotard, skirt optional, with pink tights but on Fridays and Saturdays- Saturdays are half days- we allow you to wear whatever you want as long as it is appropriate and danceable. Hip alignment belts and leg warmers are allowed but not required. Hair must be off the face and neck, in any fashion. I also have a list of rules that must be followed since you are living in the Company apartment.” He handed me a paper with a list of rules the first few being:
1. Adhere to the curfew, which is 1:00 AM
2. Do not bring boys back to the apartment
3. Keep partying and drinking to a minimum
4. Smoking is not allowed in the apartment building and in the theatre, if you must smoke go outside
5. Do not be late to your classes
Skipping down the long list of rules the last one read:
Remember that you are representing the Company with all of your actions.
“We have a three strikes policy, where if you are caught breaking these rules three times you will be kicked out of the apartment. Now run along to class, don’t want to be late or that’ll be a strike,” Mr. Orr tried to joke.
I forced a smile as I nodded and headed out the door. The moment I got out the door, I realized I had no idea where my class was. After wondering for I have no idea how long, I check my watch again; it read 8:48 AM, 4:48 PM in Russia. That was when I collided with a solid mass, falling to the floor.
“Lo Siento, I should’ve been paying attention to where I was going,” The solid mass, was apparently a male dancer. Actually, a cute male dancer. Literally tall, dark, and handsome with a Latin lover appeal. He spoke with the slightest hint of an accent. He wore the typical male dancer wear, black tights and a white shirt but the sleeves were torn off, showing off his toned arms. Maybe it was the ripped sleeves or the visible tattoo on the inside of his wrist, whatever it was he screamed rebel. He helped me up before giving me a once over, “Are you new here?”
“Yes, I’m in the corps. The new dancer from Russia. I’m Svetlana Khitrova.”
“Alejandro, Alejandro Diaz. Sorry about the whole crashing into you thing.”
“Don’t worry about it, but could you show where Fonteyn Studio is?”
“Sure of course,” He took my hand led me to a hallway lined with doors that have plaques engraved with the name of the room. “This is the Fonteyn Studio,” Alejandro says gesturing to the door the left of us, “Hasta luego, I have a class to get to.”
“Yeah, I’ll see you later,” I replied, watching him walk away down the hall entering a room. I took a deep breathe and checked my watch again, 9:13 AM, 5:13 PM in Russia. I tentatively opened the door, to reveal a large, open space, with ceiling to floor windows instead of a wall on one side of the studio, giving an impressive view of the Cultural District, and the wall opposite was all mirrors. The thin wooden barres were mounted onto the walls leaving a large, open space in the middle for across the floor work and a shiny, black grand piano sat in the corner with a young woman, maybe around my age, sitting behind it, looking as bored as can be.
“Svetlana! Over here!” I heard a familiar feminine voice call.
I turned to see Alicia stretching and chatting with a group of girls. I walked over to her, nervously shifting my weight, adjusting the strap of my dance bag on my shoulder.
“Come and stretch with us,” Alicia scooted over to make some room for me in her circle of friends.
A smile spread across my face and I took a seat next to her. After taking off my sweats and wrap and replacing them with legwarmers and pointe shoes, I noticed the three other girls, all wildly different from each other.
“Guys, this Svetlana, me and Anna’s new roommate, she’s from the Bolshoi.”
“I’m Georgia,” A sweet, rosy cheeked redhead with a green eyes and freckles says with a slight Southern-accent.
“Martha, after Martha Graham,” A slender, mousy haired blonde with brown eyes says.
“Leah, Leah Chang,” says a short dancer with dark, almost black hair, and dark brown almond shaped eyes that were framed with dark lashes.
“Nice to meet you, guys,” They all looked wildly different but they all had the long, slender neck and limbs of a dancer.
“So is it true? That all the dancers in Russia are handpicked? Like how does it work?” Georgia asked with a look of wonderment in her eyes.
“Yes, it’s true. When you audition for the school they have you and five other girls walk into a room and they check you.”
“Check you?” Her emerald eyes were wide with curiosity, eager to learn more about the mysterious Russian school.
“Yes check you. They check the height of your jumps, your turnout and your proportions. Then whoever doesn’t pass is sent home and then who’s left gets checked by the a doctor, to check your eyes and ears and your general health, it gets as specific as muscle texture. And those who aren’t right are cut. Then they test your musicality, coordination and responsiveness to choreography, those who make it through those tests stay, those who don’t have to try again next year.”
“And that’s all done at how old?” By the expression Georgia had on her face, she was hanging on my every word.
“I was ten when I auditioned and that’s the minimum,”
“Wow,” Was all Georgia said and the other girls nodded in agreement as we continued to stretch, I checked my wrist watch again before slipping it into my bag, it read 9:43 AM, 5:43 PM in Russia.
That was when Anna, walked into the studio, wearing a sweetheart neckline leotard with a gather in the front and a low back, a thin, red, shiny belt was slung on her hips acting more as a fashion statement than as an aide for her alignment. Large sunglasses obscured half of her face and her golden hair was braided in a crown on the top of her head, like a Swedish milkmaid. The sunlight that poured in from the windows made her blonde hair glow like a halo.
“Good night?” Alicia asked with a cheeky grin.
“Shut up,” Anna muttered, pulling off her sunglasses, revealing her bloodshot blue eyes and the dark bags underneath them. “Did you bring the concealer?” She asked with sharpness in her voice, as she sat between Alicia and Leah, not even acknowledging my presence.
“Yeah, here. Must not have been that good,” Alicia continued to joke as she handed her the flesh-toned tube.
Anna glared daggers at Alicia, before sitting in front of the mirror to apply her make-up, concealing the evidence of last night.
I check the clock on the wall, it read 10:15 AM, 6:15 in Russian time. About five minutes later, the ballet mistress walked into the studio.
Alicia pulled me to the barre as everyone else runs to the barre, even Anna, who hasn’t even warmed up.
The ballet mistress looks about early forties, her dark auburn hair, with some streaks of gray around her temples, pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She wore a long-sleeved black leotard with a high neckline and a dark brown wraparound skirt on her waist. She surveyed the room and her eyes stopped at me. “You, you’re new?” Her voice was much kinder than her cold appearance implied.
“Yes, I’m Svetlana Khitrova, from the Bolshoi.”
“Ah, yes the daughter of Aliya Kapranova, I danced with your mother when I was at the Bolshoi. I am Madame Diana Stiefel,” She gave me a slight nod before continuing to scan the dancers. After giving everyone a once over, making mental notes on everyone, she demonstrated the combination with her hands and finger, “Okay ladies, we will start in first, demi plié, stretch, demi plié, stretch, full grand plié, return, port de bras forwards and back, repeat in second, fourth and fifth, and we will rise in a balance in fifth."
I took a deep breathe, as the sweet sound of the piano slowly drifts to me prompting us to start the combination. I emptied my mind of everything and simply focused on the music and moving my by body in time with the rhythm, making sure every movement is precise and purposeful.
Madame Stiefel walked around the room, watching our every movement. “Long, lean lines Alicia,” she commented as she walks past our row, “Head up, Leah,” “Lovely port de bras, Anna,” “Georgia, remember to pull up,” She stops at me and looks at my feet, “Good turnout,” she muttered as she continued to walk around the room. “Ladies, we will be doing across the floor now. Chassé, glissade, grand jeté, grand jeté, chaîné off,” Madame Stiefel demontrated the combination again with her hands.
“We go by the lines we were in during the barre,” Alicia whispered to me as she pulled me closer to her and Anna.
I nodded and bit my lip, while watching the other girls dance across the floor, assessing their technique and lines.
“We’re next,” Alicia rubbed my shoulder encouragingly.
I took a deep breathe, trying to calm my nerves, as I stand with my feet in first position and my arms in third position.
“5, 6, 7, 8,” Madame counted off as she clapped the beat to us.
As I begin the combination, I feel the nervousness disappear like a bad dream, my feet felt as though they barely skimmed the floor as I chassé and leap high into the air,.I can’t help but smile as I chaîné off the floor.
We gathered in the middle so that Madame can give her critiques to us, “Georgia, work on your turnout, from the hips remember. Leah, keep your eyes up. What’s the point of having your chin and head up if your eyes aren’t? Alicia, lovely, high grand jeté but work on your turns. Anna, support your arms and don’t be afraid do be expressive. Svetlana, beautiful work. Okay, ladies you are excused, remember auditions for the fall showcase are coming up, if you need help on your solo, come to the theatre in the afternoon.”
“You’re so lucky, that you have a perfect turnout,” Georgia sighed, obviously frustrated with her critique.
“Oh, well I’ve been working on it for a long time. In Russia, they only choose you if you have good turnout. But if you stretch your hip flexors and really focus on turning out from not only your hips but your thighs, then it will improve.” I advised, “So, do you guys go out for lunch or is there a cafeteria?” I checked my watch, 12:03 PM, 8:03 PM in Russia.
“There’s a cafeteria here all health food and stuff but you can go out, you just can’t be late to your class. The food at the cafeteria is pretty good and its free,”
“Leah, and I are going out for lunch, you’re invited, too. Alicia, are you coming with us?” Georgia invited.
“Oh, no I think I’ll stay here,” Alicia responded.
“Svetlana?”
“No, its okay I think I’ll just eat here with Alicia,” I smiled as the girls file out of the door, saying there goodbyes. I found it odd that Anna was left out and not even invited to there lunch, I looked over at Anna and saw her hunched over her bag as she changed into her street clothes. She looked exhausted. The concealer looked cakey under her eyes, making the dark bags even more obvious.
“Let’s get lunch, I’m starved,” Alicia says grabbing my hand, pulling me up and leading me to the cafeteria with Anna lagging behind us. The cafeteria was a large, grey room with concrete floors and lots of tables, which had a few dancers milling about. “Come on, let’s get in line, I think I’ll get soup, what about you guys?”
“I don’t know, maybe a sandwich or something,” I said absentmindedly as I looked over the menu filled with low-fat, low-carb, low-sugar, low-cholesterol options. I notice Anna biting her lip, staring down the food like it was the enemy. I paused as I took a tray and watched Alicia fill a bowl with chicken-noodle soup and eagerly fill her plate with fruits and vegetables, I take a turkey and cheese sandwich, a carton of yogurt and an apple but I can’t help but notice how tentative Anna looks when she takes a single piece of grilled chicken and places it on her otherwise empty plate. We eat our lunch in silence as Anna cuts up her chicken breast, first in half, then into quarters, then in to sixteenths, then into even smaller pieces.
“What are you staring at?” Anna said sharply.
“No-nothing,” I was rattled by the venom in her voice. I continued to eat my lunch and Anna poked at some of her chicken.
“What time do we have to get to class?” I checked my watch, 12:23 PM, 8:23 PM in Russia.
“1:00,” Alicia replied nonchalantly, “Are you going to stay to work on your solo?” directing her question more at me than at Anna.
“Maybe, I don’t really have anything,”
“Do you at least know what music you’re going to use?”
“Nope, probably something more on the classical side. You?”
“I have this great song, it’s a tango, it’s going to be hot,”
“I’m sure it will be.” I fgiggled. If there was a ballerina who could pull off a sexy solo, it would be Alicia. “I still need to think about a song. How about you Anna? Are you going to stay to work on your solo?”
She narrowed her eyes as she dropped her napkin over her plate covering her barely eaten chicken, “Yes,” she answered tersely, “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll meet you at class.”
I shot Alicia a look, but Alicia shookher head and gaveme a look that says ‘leave her alone.’ “Well, let’s get going, so we can stretch out,” Alicia changed the subject.
I checked my watch again, 12:35 PM, 8:35 PM in Russia, before we picked up our dance bags and headed to the Trapp Studio for our pas de deux class.
On our way to the studio, I couldn’t help but think about Anna’s strange behavior at lunch, “Is she always like that?” I asked Alicia.
“Who?”
“Anna, is she always weird like that around food?”
The look on Alicia’s face was one of confusion before thoughtfully replying, “I don’t know, I haven’t really noticed. But she has changed ever since the talk.”
“The talk?”
“Well, Anna would kill me if she found I was telling you this but, I think you should know. You see, Anna was born and raised here in Pittsburgh, she went the Pittsburgh Ballet Academy and from there she was picked to join the Company. Mikhail, the old director, loved Anna, he loved her technician like style, so he promoted her to soloist. But then, Mikhail was replaced with Mr. Orr and he didn’t like Anna’s lack of emotion and thought she looked wooden and cold, so she was demoted to the back of the corps. It was like a slap to the face for Anna. One minute she was dancing roles like winter, in Cinderella, and the next she’s in the back of the corps for Swan Lake. About a couple weeks ago, Anna and Mr. Orr had this long talk in his office about how her teachers think she isn’t improving and that she needs to work harder if she wants to move up the ranks and that she could be replaced by any of the graduating students.”
“Oh,” was all I could muster and I suddenly felt bad for Anna, rejection is something that one never gets used to and every dancer shudders at the thought of being replaced.
“Don’t worry about her okay? She’s a big girl and she can take care of herself,” Alicia responded to the sullen look on my face.
I continued to stretch before checking my watch 12:49 PM, 8:49 PM in Russia. I looked around and noticed that a lot more dancers had come into the studio, including Anna, who appeared to be swallowing copious amounts of breath mints and Alejandro, who was coolly chatting with another male dancer. A man, who looked about early-30’s, with sharp, handsome features and dark hair, walked into the studio and met by a chorus of greetings ranging from, “Hey man!” to “What’s up?” I turned to Alicia with a perplexed look, “That’s Charlie, the pas de deux instructor. He’s super cool.” Alicia said with a grin as we walked to the barre to warm up and Mr. Murphy followed us.
.
“Hello, I’m Charlie Murphy, the pas de deux teacher here. You’re new yes?” Mr. Murphy extended his hand.
“Hi, I’m Svetlana Khitrova,” I responded, shaking his hand.
“Ah, yes I’ve heard a lot about you, I can’t wait to work with you.” He replied with a genuine grin, “You’re quite tall, I think we’ll have to partner you with Alejandro. How tall are you exactly?”
“5’10”, almost 5'11"” I replied blushing. It was so embarrassing, when everything had to be reshuffled so that I could have a partner who could handle my size.
“Yes, I think Alejandro would be a good match for you. Yo, Alex come over here!” Mr. Murphy yelled across the studio, something that would never happen in a studio in Russia.
Alejandro jogged over to us, “Yeah, what’s up?”
“You will be partnering with Ms. Khitrova now,”
“Bueno,” Alejandro remarked with a cocky grin on his face.
Mr. Murphy smirked and winked, as if he was in on a secret joke, before walking to the front of the class and clapping his hands together, clearing his throat, getting everyone’s attention.
I scanned the classroom and noticed that everyone was partnered up.
“We have a new dancer with us today, Svetlana Khitrova, she is from the land that has given us Baryshnikov and Pavlova and she will be partnering with Alejandro.” I could feel everyone’s eyes burning on me, my cheeks flushed a shade of deep pink and I looked down at the floor as if the wood had suddenly become very interesting. “Okay enough embarrassment lets dance!” Mr. Murphy clapped and he demonstrated the combination we will be practicing with his assistant.
The rest of the class was a blur, full of laughter and interesting choreography. Mr. Murphy’s, who everyone else calls Charlie, style is much more contemporary and modern, a stark contrast to Madame Stiefel’s class. He used an iPod dock instead of the piano which sat in the corner of the studio collecting dust, the music he chose was not classical, it was a mélange of easy listening and pop songs. The atmosphere was casual and humorous, with playful banter between Charlie and some of the other dancers. Charlie was open to our opinions of his choreography and music choice.
“Okay, guys good work today. Remember if you need help on your solo my colleagues and I will be in theatre to help you. We all want you to succeed.” Charlie informed us before we were excused.
“Alicia, I think I’ll go back to the apartment,” I checked the wall clock, 3:02 PM, 11:02 PM in Russia.
“Oh okay, just take the bus back to the apartment. Hurry, the bus will be at the stop at 3:15.”
“Okay, I’ll see you back at the apartment,” I jogged out of the studio to make the bus. As I slide into a seat towards the middle of the bus, another person slid in next to me.
“Hey partner,” A familiar Latin voice greeted.
I turn and see a smiling Alejandro wearing a hooded sweatshirt and sweat pants. “Hi,” I replied shyly.
“You know, you’re one of the best partners I’ve had in a while. I don't think you'll be in the corps for long.”
“Thank you, you’re pretty good yourself,” I looked out the window, trying to hide the strawberry blush on my cheeks.
“Thanks. I got promoted last year to soloist,” The confidence oozed from his smooth, deep voice and when I turned back to him I saw the arrogant smirk that played on his full lips. “Which apartment do you live in?”
“117? What about you?”
“142, I live on the floor above yours. If you ever need anything don’t be afraid to come up and drop by.”
“I will remember that. I guess you don’t need help with your solo?”
“Nah, I’ve got the whole thing sorted out. It’ll be a bit more contemporary. The story is gonna be about the end of a relationship from the guy’s point of view. I’m guessing you don’t need help with your solo either,”
“Actually, I have nothing right now, not even music. That is why I’m going to the apartment so I can start listen to some music and start choreographing.”
“Well, if you need any help, just call me,” Alejandro winked. I couldn'thelp but smile back as the bus jerks to a halt. “This is our stop,” he stood up offering his arm chivalrously and I obliged and looped my arm through his as we walked to the apartment building.
“Hello Rob, how was your day?” Alejandro greeted.
“Great, thank you Alex. Good day Miss Khitrova,” Robinson repliesd
“Hello, Robinson,” I replied and I can’t help but shake the look that Robinson is giving me. I can only wonder what he’s thinking, just yesterday I was out with Jordan Staal and now I’m here walking arm in arm with Alejandro. I glance at my watch nervously, 3:28 PM, 11:28 PM Russian time, as I enter the elevator with Alejandro, pressing our respective floor numbers. The elevator dinged as it reached my floor, “Bye Alejandro, it was really great meeting you. See you at class tomorrow.”
“Hasta luego Svetlana Khitrova, good luck on your solo."
I can’t help but smile as I walked to my apartment and take a quick shower before lying on my bed and pulling out my laptop. I checked my watch again; it read 3:48 PM, 11:48 PM in Russia.
My laptop was halfway through turning on when my cell phone starts ringing. There was one new text message, from Jordan.
It read: “Вы хотите прийти на вечеринку в моей штаны? (You want to come to the party in my pants?) If that doesn’t say “You want to come and get some coffee later,” then I have some serious pounding to do on my teammates.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at what the text had actually said before checking the clock on my phone. Since I hadn’t changed it from Russian time, it read 11:42 PM. I quickly changed it to 3:42 PM Pittsburgh time.
I decided to take a shower and make breakfast for the girls. I took a long, hot shower to relax my tired muscles. After finishing up my shower and letting my naturally straight hair air dry, I changed into a traditional, plain black leotard with a camisole neckline and pink tights. Black leotard and pink tights were the dress code at both the Bolshoi and the Vaganova School, so they were all I had. I slicked my dark brown hair back into the signature ballet bun and packed my dance bag, a black duffel bag with my name sewn on to it, with extra pointe shoes, lots of hair pins, a water bottle, a first aid kit, an extra leotard, extra tights, leg warmers, a change of clothes, make up, and a face towel. I slipped on a light blue wrap over my leotard and a pair of comfortable grey sweat pants, as well. Before leaving my room, I checked my alarm clock which read, 6:41 AM, 2:41 PM in Russia.
I wandered to the kitchen to start breakfast, but those hopes were dashed when the pantry was empty save for some oatmeal and bags of trail mix, which I took and placed in my dance bag for a snack. The only things in the refrigerator was fruits and cheese. I decided to make some oatmeal with fruit, a typical dancer’s breakfast. I was about halfway through with the oatmeal when Alicia stumbled in to kitchen wearing a black leotard with a halter neckline and a twist front.
“Good morning," I greeted, feigning cheerfulness. "I was going to make you guys breakfast, but you don’t have any food,”
“Oh, well we don’t really eat much,” Alicia responded, but quickly adding, “we usually go out.” Alicia pulled on her sweats and t-shirt, “Weird though, we went shopping for groceries on Friday,” she muttered to herself.
When I finished my oatmeal, I washed my bowl and asked, “So, where’s Anna?”
“Oh, she’ll meet us there. I don’t think she came home.”
I merely nodded again as I imagined all the possibilities to why Anna didn’t come back last night, I gulped the lump forming in my throat. All the stories of Pittsburgh being a big, bag, dangerous city echoed in my head. I changed the subject, “So, where were you last night?”
“I went out to meet a couple of friends for some drinks,” Alicia responded with a smile as she grabbed her dance bag, “We should get going, the bus gets here at 7:15 sharp,” I took a glance at the clock on the wall, it read 7:02 AM, 3:02 PM in Russia, "But knowing the Port Authority, it'll probably come late."
I followed Alicia as we went out to the bus stop that was right in front of our apartment, and luckily we got there just in time. We sat next to each other towards the back of the bus, “Alicia, can I ask you a question?”
“You kind of just did, but okay,” She joked.
“Well, last night when I came back from my dinner with Jordan, Robinson said something about rules, and, um, what rules?”
“Oh, that’s right you super strwent to dinner with Jordan Staal, how was it? Anyways, Rob is talking about is that ever since, Mikhail, the old director, retired the new guy who replaced him, Terence Orr, he’s a really nice guy but he’sict. Like, since a lot of the dancers live in the same apartment building as us and a lot of them are underaged, you have to be in the apartment by 1:00 AM. Rob tells Terrence who gets in late, who gets in early, who leaves, who doesn’t, but here’s a secret. If you think you’re going to come late, don’t come back because if Rob doesn’t see you, he can’t tell Mr. Orr. Rob’ll just assume that you came in during his break,” Alicia said in a hushed voice.
“Is that why Anna didn’t come back? She wasn’t going to make curfew?” I was relieved at the thought that she had not come back because she had missed curfew and not bleeding in a gutter, but I was stilled worried about where she had spent the night and with whom. “In Russia we had a curfew too, but it was much earlier, 9:30 PM. Dinner with Jordan was good, we went to an Italian resturant.”
“Yup. 9:30! What time did your classes and rehearsals end?” her voice rising a whole octave, due to her disbelief.
“Classes and rehearsals ended at 6:30 and then we have dinner at 7:00 and then its lights out at 9:30,” I replied simply, it never struck me as odd that 9:30 was early.
“Two and half hours! What can you do in two and a half hours?”
“Well, usually we just relax and rest, we lived there, we ate there, we took classes there, we performed there, we did everything there and we weren’t allowed to go out except on the weekends. So we were pretty tired by the time dinner came.”
“Hmm, that’s crazy! I don’t even think clubs open at 9:30,” Alicia said more to herself than to me. We didn’t talk much after that, we rode the bus in silence, which I was glad for. I checked my watch for the time, 7:29 AM, 3:29 PM in Russia. Stations blinked by before Alicia abruptly announced, “This is our stop." She grabbed me by my elbow and led me out of the bus.
There before me was a truly opulent building, the sheer size of it and the intricate decoration of the architecture was awe worthy. “This is it, this is where we perform and take our classes. This is where we will be spending an upwards of 30 hours a week. Come on are you gonna keep staring at or go inside?”
I blushed and I followed Alicia inside of the theatre, going through the stage door which leads to a maze of hallways, some going to the lobby, some going to the stage, others going to the studios in the back.
“We’ll find Terrence and he’ll tell you all the stuff you need to know,” Alicia said. We, more like Alicia, spotted Terrence talking to one of the crew guys and we headed right to him. I was too busy trying to remember the right bus to get home. “Hi, Mr. Orr, this is Svetlana the Bolshoi girl."
I recognized Terrence Orr from when he came to Russia last spring. He looked like a nice man, like someone’s uncle or dad. He was chubby from having retired years ago and had a bristly mustache, he was balding and his hair was streaked with gray. He had created quite the scandal, when he married one of his principal ballerinas. It was very Balanchine of him.
“Ah, so nice to see you again Svetlana. Now let’s go to my office so we can discuss your future here.”
Alicia gave me an encouraging wink and thumbs up, which made me smile.
Mr. Orr led me to his office, which was a good sized room with lush carpet, posters of past productions and pictures from his dancing days hanging on the wall. There was a large, dark wooden desk with intricate carvings on the legs and two chairs, as well as plenty of filing cabinets. “Please sit, now Svetlana… What was your last name again?”
“Khitrova, Svetlana Khitrova.”
“Wait; are you Aliya Kapranova’s daughter?”
“Yes,” I respond casting my eyes downward my cheeks flushing, I could never seem to escape my family’s legacy.
“Well, that’s wonderful! Ah, it seems just like yesterday, when I danced with your mother, she was a guest at ABT. She was a wonderful Giselle.” Mr. Orr’s eyes become glassy and wistful as though he was reliving a past memory, “It’s always nice to have new talent on board. Our upcoming productions are the fall showcase and The Nutcracker. Our casting of The Nutcracker is based on what your teachers’ opinions of you, your audition and how you do at the fall showcase. So, that makes your audition for the fall showcase very important. Auditions for the showcase, and all dancers must audition, are at the end of the month. The fall showcase consists of group work and solos, of all styles, it sort of an introduction to our performing season. We expect you here at 9:30 AM, no later. Classes usually last till lunch then we usually have rehearsals but since we don’t have a show coming up for a while, so you will be taking a pas de deux class, which will end at around 3. This is our off-season so there are not that many rehearsals but wait till after the fall showcase, you’re rehearsal schedule will be packed and they’ll replace your pas de deux class and it won't be uncommon for you to stay here till late in the evening.
“Also, we have a strict dress code here, black leotard, skirt optional, with pink tights but on Fridays and Saturdays- Saturdays are half days- we allow you to wear whatever you want as long as it is appropriate and danceable. Hip alignment belts and leg warmers are allowed but not required. Hair must be off the face and neck, in any fashion. I also have a list of rules that must be followed since you are living in the Company apartment.” He handed me a paper with a list of rules the first few being:
1. Adhere to the curfew, which is 1:00 AM
2. Do not bring boys back to the apartment
3. Keep partying and drinking to a minimum
4. Smoking is not allowed in the apartment building and in the theatre, if you must smoke go outside
5. Do not be late to your classes
Skipping down the long list of rules the last one read:
Remember that you are representing the Company with all of your actions.
“We have a three strikes policy, where if you are caught breaking these rules three times you will be kicked out of the apartment. Now run along to class, don’t want to be late or that’ll be a strike,” Mr. Orr tried to joke.
I forced a smile as I nodded and headed out the door. The moment I got out the door, I realized I had no idea where my class was. After wondering for I have no idea how long, I check my watch again; it read 8:48 AM, 4:48 PM in Russia. That was when I collided with a solid mass, falling to the floor.
“Lo Siento, I should’ve been paying attention to where I was going,” The solid mass, was apparently a male dancer. Actually, a cute male dancer. Literally tall, dark, and handsome with a Latin lover appeal. He spoke with the slightest hint of an accent. He wore the typical male dancer wear, black tights and a white shirt but the sleeves were torn off, showing off his toned arms. Maybe it was the ripped sleeves or the visible tattoo on the inside of his wrist, whatever it was he screamed rebel. He helped me up before giving me a once over, “Are you new here?”
“Yes, I’m in the corps. The new dancer from Russia. I’m Svetlana Khitrova.”
“Alejandro, Alejandro Diaz. Sorry about the whole crashing into you thing.”
“Don’t worry about it, but could you show where Fonteyn Studio is?”
“Sure of course,” He took my hand led me to a hallway lined with doors that have plaques engraved with the name of the room. “This is the Fonteyn Studio,” Alejandro says gesturing to the door the left of us, “Hasta luego, I have a class to get to.”
“Yeah, I’ll see you later,” I replied, watching him walk away down the hall entering a room. I took a deep breathe and checked my watch again, 9:13 AM, 5:13 PM in Russia. I tentatively opened the door, to reveal a large, open space, with ceiling to floor windows instead of a wall on one side of the studio, giving an impressive view of the Cultural District, and the wall opposite was all mirrors. The thin wooden barres were mounted onto the walls leaving a large, open space in the middle for across the floor work and a shiny, black grand piano sat in the corner with a young woman, maybe around my age, sitting behind it, looking as bored as can be.
“Svetlana! Over here!” I heard a familiar feminine voice call.
I turned to see Alicia stretching and chatting with a group of girls. I walked over to her, nervously shifting my weight, adjusting the strap of my dance bag on my shoulder.
“Come and stretch with us,” Alicia scooted over to make some room for me in her circle of friends.
A smile spread across my face and I took a seat next to her. After taking off my sweats and wrap and replacing them with legwarmers and pointe shoes, I noticed the three other girls, all wildly different from each other.
“Guys, this Svetlana, me and Anna’s new roommate, she’s from the Bolshoi.”
“I’m Georgia,” A sweet, rosy cheeked redhead with a green eyes and freckles says with a slight Southern-accent.
“Martha, after Martha Graham,” A slender, mousy haired blonde with brown eyes says.
“Leah, Leah Chang,” says a short dancer with dark, almost black hair, and dark brown almond shaped eyes that were framed with dark lashes.
“Nice to meet you, guys,” They all looked wildly different but they all had the long, slender neck and limbs of a dancer.
“So is it true? That all the dancers in Russia are handpicked? Like how does it work?” Georgia asked with a look of wonderment in her eyes.
“Yes, it’s true. When you audition for the school they have you and five other girls walk into a room and they check you.”
“Check you?” Her emerald eyes were wide with curiosity, eager to learn more about the mysterious Russian school.
“Yes check you. They check the height of your jumps, your turnout and your proportions. Then whoever doesn’t pass is sent home and then who’s left gets checked by the a doctor, to check your eyes and ears and your general health, it gets as specific as muscle texture. And those who aren’t right are cut. Then they test your musicality, coordination and responsiveness to choreography, those who make it through those tests stay, those who don’t have to try again next year.”
“And that’s all done at how old?” By the expression Georgia had on her face, she was hanging on my every word.
“I was ten when I auditioned and that’s the minimum,”
“Wow,” Was all Georgia said and the other girls nodded in agreement as we continued to stretch, I checked my wrist watch again before slipping it into my bag, it read 9:43 AM, 5:43 PM in Russia.
That was when Anna, walked into the studio, wearing a sweetheart neckline leotard with a gather in the front and a low back, a thin, red, shiny belt was slung on her hips acting more as a fashion statement than as an aide for her alignment. Large sunglasses obscured half of her face and her golden hair was braided in a crown on the top of her head, like a Swedish milkmaid. The sunlight that poured in from the windows made her blonde hair glow like a halo.
“Good night?” Alicia asked with a cheeky grin.
“Shut up,” Anna muttered, pulling off her sunglasses, revealing her bloodshot blue eyes and the dark bags underneath them. “Did you bring the concealer?” She asked with sharpness in her voice, as she sat between Alicia and Leah, not even acknowledging my presence.
“Yeah, here. Must not have been that good,” Alicia continued to joke as she handed her the flesh-toned tube.
Anna glared daggers at Alicia, before sitting in front of the mirror to apply her make-up, concealing the evidence of last night.
I check the clock on the wall, it read 10:15 AM, 6:15 in Russian time. About five minutes later, the ballet mistress walked into the studio.
Alicia pulled me to the barre as everyone else runs to the barre, even Anna, who hasn’t even warmed up.
The ballet mistress looks about early forties, her dark auburn hair, with some streaks of gray around her temples, pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She wore a long-sleeved black leotard with a high neckline and a dark brown wraparound skirt on her waist. She surveyed the room and her eyes stopped at me. “You, you’re new?” Her voice was much kinder than her cold appearance implied.
“Yes, I’m Svetlana Khitrova, from the Bolshoi.”
“Ah, yes the daughter of Aliya Kapranova, I danced with your mother when I was at the Bolshoi. I am Madame Diana Stiefel,” She gave me a slight nod before continuing to scan the dancers. After giving everyone a once over, making mental notes on everyone, she demonstrated the combination with her hands and finger, “Okay ladies, we will start in first, demi plié, stretch, demi plié, stretch, full grand plié, return, port de bras forwards and back, repeat in second, fourth and fifth, and we will rise in a balance in fifth."
I took a deep breathe, as the sweet sound of the piano slowly drifts to me prompting us to start the combination. I emptied my mind of everything and simply focused on the music and moving my by body in time with the rhythm, making sure every movement is precise and purposeful.
Madame Stiefel walked around the room, watching our every movement. “Long, lean lines Alicia,” she commented as she walks past our row, “Head up, Leah,” “Lovely port de bras, Anna,” “Georgia, remember to pull up,” She stops at me and looks at my feet, “Good turnout,” she muttered as she continued to walk around the room. “Ladies, we will be doing across the floor now. Chassé, glissade, grand jeté, grand jeté, chaîné off,” Madame Stiefel demontrated the combination again with her hands.
“We go by the lines we were in during the barre,” Alicia whispered to me as she pulled me closer to her and Anna.
I nodded and bit my lip, while watching the other girls dance across the floor, assessing their technique and lines.
“We’re next,” Alicia rubbed my shoulder encouragingly.
I took a deep breathe, trying to calm my nerves, as I stand with my feet in first position and my arms in third position.
“5, 6, 7, 8,” Madame counted off as she clapped the beat to us.
As I begin the combination, I feel the nervousness disappear like a bad dream, my feet felt as though they barely skimmed the floor as I chassé and leap high into the air,.I can’t help but smile as I chaîné off the floor.
We gathered in the middle so that Madame can give her critiques to us, “Georgia, work on your turnout, from the hips remember. Leah, keep your eyes up. What’s the point of having your chin and head up if your eyes aren’t? Alicia, lovely, high grand jeté but work on your turns. Anna, support your arms and don’t be afraid do be expressive. Svetlana, beautiful work. Okay, ladies you are excused, remember auditions for the fall showcase are coming up, if you need help on your solo, come to the theatre in the afternoon.”
“You’re so lucky, that you have a perfect turnout,” Georgia sighed, obviously frustrated with her critique.
“Oh, well I’ve been working on it for a long time. In Russia, they only choose you if you have good turnout. But if you stretch your hip flexors and really focus on turning out from not only your hips but your thighs, then it will improve.” I advised, “So, do you guys go out for lunch or is there a cafeteria?” I checked my watch, 12:03 PM, 8:03 PM in Russia.
“There’s a cafeteria here all health food and stuff but you can go out, you just can’t be late to your class. The food at the cafeteria is pretty good and its free,”
“Leah, and I are going out for lunch, you’re invited, too. Alicia, are you coming with us?” Georgia invited.
“Oh, no I think I’ll stay here,” Alicia responded.
“Svetlana?”
“No, its okay I think I’ll just eat here with Alicia,” I smiled as the girls file out of the door, saying there goodbyes. I found it odd that Anna was left out and not even invited to there lunch, I looked over at Anna and saw her hunched over her bag as she changed into her street clothes. She looked exhausted. The concealer looked cakey under her eyes, making the dark bags even more obvious.
“Let’s get lunch, I’m starved,” Alicia says grabbing my hand, pulling me up and leading me to the cafeteria with Anna lagging behind us. The cafeteria was a large, grey room with concrete floors and lots of tables, which had a few dancers milling about. “Come on, let’s get in line, I think I’ll get soup, what about you guys?”
“I don’t know, maybe a sandwich or something,” I said absentmindedly as I looked over the menu filled with low-fat, low-carb, low-sugar, low-cholesterol options. I notice Anna biting her lip, staring down the food like it was the enemy. I paused as I took a tray and watched Alicia fill a bowl with chicken-noodle soup and eagerly fill her plate with fruits and vegetables, I take a turkey and cheese sandwich, a carton of yogurt and an apple but I can’t help but notice how tentative Anna looks when she takes a single piece of grilled chicken and places it on her otherwise empty plate. We eat our lunch in silence as Anna cuts up her chicken breast, first in half, then into quarters, then in to sixteenths, then into even smaller pieces.
“What are you staring at?” Anna said sharply.
“No-nothing,” I was rattled by the venom in her voice. I continued to eat my lunch and Anna poked at some of her chicken.
“What time do we have to get to class?” I checked my watch, 12:23 PM, 8:23 PM in Russia.
“1:00,” Alicia replied nonchalantly, “Are you going to stay to work on your solo?” directing her question more at me than at Anna.
“Maybe, I don’t really have anything,”
“Do you at least know what music you’re going to use?”
“Nope, probably something more on the classical side. You?”
“I have this great song, it’s a tango, it’s going to be hot,”
“I’m sure it will be.” I fgiggled. If there was a ballerina who could pull off a sexy solo, it would be Alicia. “I still need to think about a song. How about you Anna? Are you going to stay to work on your solo?”
She narrowed her eyes as she dropped her napkin over her plate covering her barely eaten chicken, “Yes,” she answered tersely, “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll meet you at class.”
I shot Alicia a look, but Alicia shookher head and gaveme a look that says ‘leave her alone.’ “Well, let’s get going, so we can stretch out,” Alicia changed the subject.
I checked my watch again, 12:35 PM, 8:35 PM in Russia, before we picked up our dance bags and headed to the Trapp Studio for our pas de deux class.
On our way to the studio, I couldn’t help but think about Anna’s strange behavior at lunch, “Is she always like that?” I asked Alicia.
“Who?”
“Anna, is she always weird like that around food?”
The look on Alicia’s face was one of confusion before thoughtfully replying, “I don’t know, I haven’t really noticed. But she has changed ever since the talk.”
“The talk?”
“Well, Anna would kill me if she found I was telling you this but, I think you should know. You see, Anna was born and raised here in Pittsburgh, she went the Pittsburgh Ballet Academy and from there she was picked to join the Company. Mikhail, the old director, loved Anna, he loved her technician like style, so he promoted her to soloist. But then, Mikhail was replaced with Mr. Orr and he didn’t like Anna’s lack of emotion and thought she looked wooden and cold, so she was demoted to the back of the corps. It was like a slap to the face for Anna. One minute she was dancing roles like winter, in Cinderella, and the next she’s in the back of the corps for Swan Lake. About a couple weeks ago, Anna and Mr. Orr had this long talk in his office about how her teachers think she isn’t improving and that she needs to work harder if she wants to move up the ranks and that she could be replaced by any of the graduating students.”
“Oh,” was all I could muster and I suddenly felt bad for Anna, rejection is something that one never gets used to and every dancer shudders at the thought of being replaced.
“Don’t worry about her okay? She’s a big girl and she can take care of herself,” Alicia responded to the sullen look on my face.
I continued to stretch before checking my watch 12:49 PM, 8:49 PM in Russia. I looked around and noticed that a lot more dancers had come into the studio, including Anna, who appeared to be swallowing copious amounts of breath mints and Alejandro, who was coolly chatting with another male dancer. A man, who looked about early-30’s, with sharp, handsome features and dark hair, walked into the studio and met by a chorus of greetings ranging from, “Hey man!” to “What’s up?” I turned to Alicia with a perplexed look, “That’s Charlie, the pas de deux instructor. He’s super cool.” Alicia said with a grin as we walked to the barre to warm up and Mr. Murphy followed us.
.
“Hello, I’m Charlie Murphy, the pas de deux teacher here. You’re new yes?” Mr. Murphy extended his hand.
“Hi, I’m Svetlana Khitrova,” I responded, shaking his hand.
“Ah, yes I’ve heard a lot about you, I can’t wait to work with you.” He replied with a genuine grin, “You’re quite tall, I think we’ll have to partner you with Alejandro. How tall are you exactly?”
“5’10”, almost 5'11"” I replied blushing. It was so embarrassing, when everything had to be reshuffled so that I could have a partner who could handle my size.
“Yes, I think Alejandro would be a good match for you. Yo, Alex come over here!” Mr. Murphy yelled across the studio, something that would never happen in a studio in Russia.
Alejandro jogged over to us, “Yeah, what’s up?”
“You will be partnering with Ms. Khitrova now,”
“Bueno,” Alejandro remarked with a cocky grin on his face.
Mr. Murphy smirked and winked, as if he was in on a secret joke, before walking to the front of the class and clapping his hands together, clearing his throat, getting everyone’s attention.
I scanned the classroom and noticed that everyone was partnered up.
“We have a new dancer with us today, Svetlana Khitrova, she is from the land that has given us Baryshnikov and Pavlova and she will be partnering with Alejandro.” I could feel everyone’s eyes burning on me, my cheeks flushed a shade of deep pink and I looked down at the floor as if the wood had suddenly become very interesting. “Okay enough embarrassment lets dance!” Mr. Murphy clapped and he demonstrated the combination we will be practicing with his assistant.
The rest of the class was a blur, full of laughter and interesting choreography. Mr. Murphy’s, who everyone else calls Charlie, style is much more contemporary and modern, a stark contrast to Madame Stiefel’s class. He used an iPod dock instead of the piano which sat in the corner of the studio collecting dust, the music he chose was not classical, it was a mélange of easy listening and pop songs. The atmosphere was casual and humorous, with playful banter between Charlie and some of the other dancers. Charlie was open to our opinions of his choreography and music choice.
“Okay, guys good work today. Remember if you need help on your solo my colleagues and I will be in theatre to help you. We all want you to succeed.” Charlie informed us before we were excused.
“Alicia, I think I’ll go back to the apartment,” I checked the wall clock, 3:02 PM, 11:02 PM in Russia.
“Oh okay, just take the bus back to the apartment. Hurry, the bus will be at the stop at 3:15.”
“Okay, I’ll see you back at the apartment,” I jogged out of the studio to make the bus. As I slide into a seat towards the middle of the bus, another person slid in next to me.
“Hey partner,” A familiar Latin voice greeted.
I turn and see a smiling Alejandro wearing a hooded sweatshirt and sweat pants. “Hi,” I replied shyly.
“You know, you’re one of the best partners I’ve had in a while. I don't think you'll be in the corps for long.”
“Thank you, you’re pretty good yourself,” I looked out the window, trying to hide the strawberry blush on my cheeks.
“Thanks. I got promoted last year to soloist,” The confidence oozed from his smooth, deep voice and when I turned back to him I saw the arrogant smirk that played on his full lips. “Which apartment do you live in?”
“117? What about you?”
“142, I live on the floor above yours. If you ever need anything don’t be afraid to come up and drop by.”
“I will remember that. I guess you don’t need help with your solo?”
“Nah, I’ve got the whole thing sorted out. It’ll be a bit more contemporary. The story is gonna be about the end of a relationship from the guy’s point of view. I’m guessing you don’t need help with your solo either,”
“Actually, I have nothing right now, not even music. That is why I’m going to the apartment so I can start listen to some music and start choreographing.”
“Well, if you need any help, just call me,” Alejandro winked. I couldn'thelp but smile back as the bus jerks to a halt. “This is our stop,” he stood up offering his arm chivalrously and I obliged and looped my arm through his as we walked to the apartment building.
“Hello Rob, how was your day?” Alejandro greeted.
“Great, thank you Alex. Good day Miss Khitrova,” Robinson repliesd
“Hello, Robinson,” I replied and I can’t help but shake the look that Robinson is giving me. I can only wonder what he’s thinking, just yesterday I was out with Jordan Staal and now I’m here walking arm in arm with Alejandro. I glance at my watch nervously, 3:28 PM, 11:28 PM Russian time, as I enter the elevator with Alejandro, pressing our respective floor numbers. The elevator dinged as it reached my floor, “Bye Alejandro, it was really great meeting you. See you at class tomorrow.”
“Hasta luego Svetlana Khitrova, good luck on your solo."
I can’t help but smile as I walked to my apartment and take a quick shower before lying on my bed and pulling out my laptop. I checked my watch again; it read 3:48 PM, 11:48 PM in Russia.
My laptop was halfway through turning on when my cell phone starts ringing. There was one new text message, from Jordan.
It read: “Вы хотите прийти на вечеринку в моей штаны? (You want to come to the party in my pants?) If that doesn’t say “You want to come and get some coffee later,” then I have some serious pounding to do on my teammates.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at what the text had actually said before checking the clock on my phone. Since I hadn’t changed it from Russian time, it read 11:42 PM. I quickly changed it to 3:42 PM Pittsburgh time.
12/9/12