Dancing for the Lord The Academy

Dancing for the Lord The Academy - By Emily Goodman

Chapter One

Danielle Wilkerson sat on her front porch, swinging her foot slowly back and forth as she stared out at the dawn slowly creeping over the horizon. There was nothing left for her to do. She had packed all of her things the night before; she had been up and dressed for nearly an hour, and even finished packing all of those little last-minute things that were so easy to forget.

Her toothbrush. Her pillows, comforting simply because they both smelled and felt like home. The book that had been sitting on her nightstand as she prepared for bed the night before, just in case she had trouble sleeping.

As it had turned out, she hadn’t had the least bit of trouble sleeping the night before. The problem had been staying that way. Finally, at about four in the morning, Danni had given up and headed downstairs. She knew her mother would want to fix her a last breakfast, so she hadn’t eaten; but she had gotten herself ready, and then come outside, where she could be alone with her thoughts.

I’m not sure I’m ready, Lord, she prayed silently. I know this is what you want from me, but I’m not sure I’m ready to leave my home behind.

There was no answer in the stillness, not even from that still, small voice that Danni had learned to listen to when she was only a child. That lack of a response would have bothered her, except that Danni already knew the answer to that question. She had known since she had sent in her application all those months ago that this was the direction God was leading her—that was why she had chosen it. And she would do it, and she would be happy, and she would know the greatest joy of all in knowing that she followed the will of her Lord…but today, as she stood on the brink of this new life, she permitted herself just a little bit of uncertainty.

A lot of it was because of Michael, really, though Danni was struggling not to admit it to herself. Michael had been her dancing partner since they were in middle school—right about the time she had gotten her first pair of pointe shoes. She’d worked with other partners over the years, but none of them had ever gotten her the way Michael did—and more importantly even than that, he was her best friend.

She was going to miss him fiercely while she was gone.

Originally, they had planned to go away together. When she’d filled out the application for the elite Androv’s Ballet Academy, she had begged and pleaded until Michael filled one out, too—and he had, had even gone to the auditions with her in spite of his own qualms.

She’d been sure that she had been the one who screwed things up for them, wobbling en pointe when she came down after a jump. Michael had caught her, steadying her without making it look anything less than planned, and they had gone on with the piece; but she’d been shaken up enough by that simple slip that she had been sure they wouldn’t be accepted.

Michael had gotten his acceptance letter within a matter of weeks. He had waited, sure that Danni’s would come immediately after it—but of course, no such thing had happened. In the end, Michael had delayed for her, waiting to the last minute and beyond to fill out his scholarship paperwork. In the end, when hers hadn’t come, he had decided that he would stay at home with her instead of going on to the Academy.

Then, halfway through the semester, her own acceptance letter had come. She was to start at the Academy in early November.

At first, Danni had almost refused. She had known that if she went, she would be going alone; and she hadn’t known how she was going to manage without Michael at her side. How could she possibly dance if he wasn’t going to be there to hold her hand—to stand in the gap for her, and help her out when she made the inevitable mistakes, and to convince her that she was more than capable of handling whatever was thrown at her in spite of the fact that neither of them knew whether or not she was actually capable of doing this?

Except that she hadn’t had a choice. Michael could reapply for the following year, and would probably be accepted again. If she didn’t take this chance now, while it was being held out to her, the odds were good that she would never have the opportunity again.

And Danni knew—with absolutely no question in her mind knew—that this was the plan that God had in mind for her. She had to go to the Academy. If she didn’t, she would be denying His sovereign plan for her life, and that was something she wouldn’t be able to live with.

She was going, whether she wanted to or not.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t having her fair share of second thoughts, though. And, she decided grimly, she was more than owed those second thoughts. What was she supposed to do over there, without her best friend at her side?

She couldn’t remember a time when Michael had ever been more than a phone call away. He’d been the one on the other end of the phone listening every time she performed badly during an audition. With the exception of The Nutcracker—which she had danced in for the last several years—Michael had been on stage with her every time she had ever danced.

Danni bowed her head. Am I betraying him by leaving him behind, Lord? she prayed silently. Michael would have sworn that she wasn’t—had sworn it a hundred times. This was the opportunity they had both dreamed of. For him, it wouldn’t have meant anything without her. For her, though…for her, it meant everything.

So this is the path I have to walk. Lord, I wish you hadn’t made me walk it alone! But that wasn’t God’s doing, and in her more honest moments, Danni knew it. God wasn’t the one who had ensured that she would be walking into the Academy alone. That was all their doing. If Michael had accepted his slot when it was offered—if they had taken that step in faith, instead of waiting in fear—he would already be there, waiting on her.

She wasn’t sure which would have been worse: seeing him off at the beginning of the year and doing her best to paste a smile on her face through it, or the feeling she had now, sitting on the front porch and staring off into nothingness as she tried to accept the fact that she was going to be leaving him behind.

“Why the long face, Dragonfly?” a familiar voice demanded.

Danni’s head came up, and she smiled as she watched Michael leap lightly onto the front steps of the porch, holding out his hands to pull her to her feet. It was second nature to bound up beside him, to let him take her weight as she did so.

They had been partners for a very long time—so long that she no longer remembered the first piece that they had danced together, only that it had been beautiful, and perfect, and everything she had ever dreamed of when she thought of dancing a pas de deux with a partner of her very own.

Michael had started calling her Dragonfly then, she remembered, grinning. The first time he’d met her, she had been working with a classroom full of five-year-olds, trying to convince them to skim lightly across the surface of the floor—dragonflies on a pond, according to her teacher’s instructions. She had been attempting to demonstrate a dragonfly for them, calling out in a half-breathless voice an explanation for each step she’d taken.

She had been Dragonfly to him ever since—and that dance, at least, Danni had never forgotten.

She stepped into it now—not an overt movement, but enough of a shift that Michael could feel it.

He squeezed her hands and moved along with her, following along as only her partner could do. He knew these steps as well as she did, and there was little effort involved in dancing them together. They’d done it for a dozen different shows, even a competition or two over the years, using the same basic choreography that Danni had put together in that classroom that morning. The younger dancers hadn’t been able to perform it to her liking; but she and Michael had been playing with it for years. It had been set to a hundred different songs, tweaked in a dozen different ways.

She would never forget these steps.

Michael took her by the hand, adding a step or two as he guided her out to the paved area in front of the house. Not a bad idea; the last time they’d done this on the porch, he’d nearly taken a tumble off of it when a leap went too far. Danni followed him instinctively.

Men always led during classical ballroom dancing. On the ballet floor, things were a bit different; but Danni had still put a great deal of time and attention into learning how to properly follow her partner. A faint change in his body language could cue her to an entirely different sequence of movements, just as the slightest change in her posture told him exactly where he needed to place his hands for the next sequence, where his feet should be resting.

A final grand jeté; a graceful port de bras; and suddenly, it was over, and the two of them were left staring at one another.

Danni dropped her gaze first, her big brown eyes welling with tears. “Hello, Michael,” she said with a grin, trying to cover up the awkward moment. “What are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. “And I knew if I couldn’t, you would be up, staring out at nothing.”

She made a face at him. “You did not know I’d be sitting out here staring at nothing!” she protested.

“No?” Michael grinned at her. “Usually it’s you running over choreography in your head the morning before a performance, but you can’t say I haven’t seen this little routine before, Dragonfly.”

Danni walked back over the porch, tugging him down alongside her when it looked as though he might choose to hover over her instead. “All right, all right, so you know me well enough to realize I wouldn’t be sleeping,” she muttered.

“Besides, I thought I might be able to catch one last dance with my favorite partner.” He sighed, and now it was his turn to not be willing to meet her gaze. “It’s going to be a long year, Danni,” he admitted softly.

“I know.” She rested her cheek against his shoulder—a familiar position for the two of them, though precious few realized it. How many performances had ended or begun exactly this way, Danni’s head resting against Michael, his arm lifting ever so gently to slide around her shoulders?

They’d never dated—never even considered it. If asked, either of them would have said that their friendship was too important for that, and anyway, dating your dance partner was just asking for trouble. One bad fight could ruin a relationship; and especially for Danni, finding a new partner would be difficult at best and impossible at worst. Far better to remain good friends—best friends—and to maintain the close partnership that made them such wonders on the dance floor.

Besides, Michael had never looked at her that way. While Danni had never had time for boyfriends—they always wanted her to make time for dates and things, and inevitably, their desired times fell during either practices or rehearsals—Michael had very calmly made his way through both the entire cheerleading squad and the dance team over the first couple of years in high school. Now, in the middle of their junior year, he seemed to have steadied a little; but that might have been because they had decided to make the most of this year, practicing and training harder than ever before in the effort to ensure Danni a place at the Academy next year.

And then her acceptance letter had come. It always came back to that. They’d had so many plans; but when it came right down to it, this was the big one, the important one.

Danni was going—even though her heart yearned for the familiar comforts of home and the only partner she had ever known.

“I’m going to miss you,” she said huskily, her fingers instinctively finding Michael’s and lacing through them. How many times had she done this? How many times had he soothed pre-performance jitters away just by holding her hand? Had she ever really even appreciated it before?

“I’m going to miss you, too.” He leaned over, resting his cheek on top of her hair. “Make sure you take care of yourself over there, all right? I’m not going to be around to nag you about taking some time off every once in awhile.”

“Oh, as if you won’t be nagging just as much as ever!” she shot back at him with a laugh. “You’ll just have to learn to do it over the phone, that’s all.”

“You mean you’re actually going to call me?” he teased. “You won’t be too busy with all your Academy friends to remember your lowly partner back home?”

“Of course I’ll call!” Danni had to swallow down the lump in her throat. “And I’ll write, too—long letters, when I’m supposed to be paying attention in class. You’ll like those.”

“Page numbers for assignments doodled in the margins?” Michael knew her too well—and he’d received more than one note with exactly that over the years.

Danni giggled. “Either that, or choreography in the margins,” she reminded him.

Michael rolled his eyes. “And here I thought that was what the bulk of the letter would be about!”

“As if you’d appreciate it,” she shot back primly.

“Hey, you’re the creative mind here. I just follow instructions.” Which had made for a wonderful partnership over the years, actually. She told him what to do, and he did it, usually flawlessly and the first time. Some of that was that Danni knew how to explain things to him so that they just made sense; some of it was that he had an instinctive grasp for things explained that way, so that it took him only a single attempt to realize what someone wanted of him. If Danni had to explain something more than once, it was usually because she hadn’t had the vision entirely clear in her own mind when she had started.

He had been a wonderful partner. Danni found her eyes filling with tears—tears that she tried to hide by burying her face a little bit deeper in his shoulder.

Of course, that didn’t fool Michael. He had always possessed a nearly uncanny ability to see straight through her no matter how hard she tried to convince him otherwise. “Hey—what’s wrong, Dragonfly?” he demanded. “You ought to be overjoyed! This is what all the planning and hoping has been for, remember?”

“What am I going to do without you, Michael?” she whispered desperately.

“Hey.” He folded her into his arms, holding on tight. There was security there, and peace—two things that Danni suspected were going to be in very short supply in the near future. “You know what you’re going to do. You’re going to get there, and you’re going to dance your heart out before your God. The rest of those people? They don’t matter. What matters is performing for him, and knowing at the end of every day that you’ve done your absolute best.”

Danni blinked, so surprised that she even stopped crying. Michael had said those words to her before, of course—or at least similar words. They’d been spoken before every recital, every competition, every show. Never before, however, had they been spoken with such passion and determination—and never before had they sparked her heart in quite that way.

Michael smiled, knowing immediately that his words had done what he intended for them to do. “See? Just another performance,” he told her quietly. “And yeah, you’re going solo for a little while—but I’ll be back beside you soon enough.”

She wondered if he could possibly know how much those words meant to her—but of course he knew. He was Michael.

Danni stared up into his eyes, memorizing their familiar and yet ever-changeable depths. Blue, yes; but they could go anywhere from blue-green to blue-grey depending on his moods, and she swore that when he lifted his heart to God and danced in a way that was truly for him alone, his eyes shone pure silver.

They were entirely blue as he stared down at her now, memorizing her features just as desperately as she was memorizing his. “For what it’s worth, I don’t have any idea how I’m going to manage solo, either,” he admitted quietly. The look on his face said that he hadn’t meant to tell her that; the warmth in Danni’s heart told her that it was genuine.

“You’ll manage,” she promised him. “One way or another, you’ll manage—and besides, you already said it. We’ll be back together before you even have time to miss me.” She forced a smile to her face, realizing that the moment was turning too serious. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to dwell on goodbye—and besides, there were good things ahead. They wanted this—and more importantly, God wanted it for them.

Danni’s voice turned teasing as she said, “You just make sure you don’t get too out of practice without me here to push you. I’d hate to have to start over from scratch when you get to the Academy.”

Michael’s expression didn’t change, still torn between the gentle, familiar banter and the desperate pain at parting. “And you don’t work too hard, okay?” he demanded roughly. “I know you—you’ll push until you don’t have anything left if there isn’t someone there to sit on you.”

“I’ll be careful.” Suddenly, Danni meant that promise more than she had in all the years of their partnership. She would be careful…because Michael wouldn’t be here to watch her back all the time anymore.

It was a lonely, empty feeling.

“Danni!” Her mother’s head poked out the front door. “Oh—hello, Michael.” She didn’t look surprised to see him—not any more than Danni really was. For the last four and a half years, wherever Danni had been, Michael hadn’t been far behind. “Breakfast is on the table. Come on inside.” She tactfully turned away then, easing the door closed behind her. Mrs. Wilkerson understood that there were things in the world that simply couldn’t be said in front of someone else.

“I’d better go,” Michael said roughly. All traces of teasing had disappeared from his face completely.

“Come in and have breakfast with us,” Danni offered. It wasn’t like it would be the first time. Michael frequently came over early, and left late; her mother often joked that it was like having a son around the house. Since he pitched in freely with the sorts of chores that a son would have managed—taking out the trash, helping with the heavy lifting, even washing the car on a sunny Saturday afternoon if he and Danni didn’t have other plans—no one had ever minded his presence.

“I can’t.” Michael swallowed hard; and in his eyes, Danni could see the truth that he couldn’t say aloud. If he went in there, the odds were good that he was going to end up crying over how much he was going to miss her; and that wouldn’t be appropriate, not as she embarked on her grand adventure.

He couldn’t stay and give her the hope that she needed. It would be the first time in their relationship that he hadn’t been able to do that for her.

Danni nodded, holding out her arms to him. He enfolded her in his quickly, even lifting her off the ground and simply holding her for several long minutes. There were no words for this bittersweet parting, and neither of them tried to say any. They just held one another, and let that be enough.

Michael didn’t say anything when he finally released her, just squeezed her one last time, stared into her face for an endless moment…and then let her go. Danni barely had time to see him as he turned to look over his shoulder at her and then, as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone.

Her feet dragged a little bit as she made her way into the house. Michael, gone…she already missed him. Never mind that she was the one who had made this decision. He was supposed to be going with her. It wasn’t fair.

Fair or not, it was what was, she reminded herself. She didn’t have any choice but to live with it, now.

Mrs. Wilkerson looked up, surprised, as only a single set of footsteps sounded on the kitchen floor—light, airy footsteps. Even in high heels, Danni rarely made much noise as she walked. In tennis shoes, as she was now, she barely seemed to make her mark on the ground as she passed by. “Michael decided not to join us for breakfast?” she asked cautiously.

Danni just nodded, her throat too full to speak. Her mother had prepared her favorite—waffles, with a side of turkey bacon for protein—but suddenly, she wasn’t sure she would be able to eat a single bite.

“Such a shame.” Tears sparkled on the older woman’s lashes before she turned away, hiding them from Danni. “It feels like I’m losing both of you, even though I know he’s not going anywhere.”

“You’re not losing me, Mama!” Danni hurried to her mother’s side, hugging her tightly. “It’ll be summer before you know it—and I’ll visit, or you can come and visit me.” But the visits would be few and far between, and they all knew it. Her father’s job didn’t allow for much travel; and her mother didn’t like to be away from him if it could be helped.

“Oh, I’ll probably see you all the time.” Mrs. Wilkerson’s voice was clearer now; she’d managed to set her own emotions aside. “You just—just eat up now, Danni. You don’t want your food to get cold, do you?”

“No.” Danni gave her a grateful smile. She wasn’t sure she could have handled much more emotion. Michael missing her was going to be bad enough; she was trying not to think too hard about what this would do to her mother.

At least her little sister, Lizzie, would still be at home—and Lizzie, at least, didn’t have any mixed feelings about the fact that Danni was leaving.

“Aren’t you gone yet?” she demanded, sticking her tongue out at her older sister as she scraped her own chair back.

“Elizabeth!” Mrs. Wilkerson’s voice was angry.

“Sorry, Mama.” But Lizzie stuck her tongue out at her sister again, when she was sure their mother wasn’t looking.

Danni just rolled her eyes and ignored it. This kind of behavior was normal for Lizzie. Most of the time, it irritated her more than she could put into words; but as she’d gotten older, she had started to understand it, at least a little.

Danni had gotten their father’s quick metabolism and their mother’s innate grace. Lizzie had been blessed with neither. And with her practice schedules, rehearsal schedules, and shows, sometimes, it must have seemed as though the entire household revolved around ballet.

Oh, Lizzie had tried to join in. When she was seven, she had joined the ballet class at the same school Danni attended, desperate to start learning the grace that her then-twelve-year-old sister had displayed so naturally.

She had quit within a year, convinced that she would never be able to get anywhere near Danni’s natural grace—and the truth was, Lizzie probably wouldn’t.

Danni was naturally slender, petite. Lizzie was heavier, and she was going to be tall—she could already see it. At eleven, Lizzie was already nearing five feet tall, and she still had several years to keep growing. Danni, on the other hand, had settled at five one and intended to stay there. Lizzie weighed more than her sister did, too, and that in spite of the fact that she tried to limit what she ate to mostly healthy things.

Danni had just been blessed—or called, as she had told Lizzie once, during a heart-to-heart shortly before her sister gave up on ballet once and for all. God wanted her to dance for him, and that was what she intended to do. He had given her all the tools she needed to get there.

She was also very young to know her calling; and it must have frustrated Lizzie to no end that she had no such talent to be nurtured, no calling that was so obvious.

“Hey, look at it this way,” Danni suggested to her sister. “With me gone, you have one fewer person to pester for a ride when you need to go somewhere. Won’t that be a loss?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “With you gone, Mom might actually have time to take me places,” she shot back.

Danni prayed for patience and did her best not to snap back at her sister. It wouldn’t get her anywhere, she knew. Lizzie was deeply resentful of the time and energy that the family poured into developing Danni’s talent.

At least that was one thing that she wouldn’t have to worry about anymore.

Danni lingered over breakfast, taking a long time to eat a very little in the hopes that her mother wouldn’t think that she was unappreciative. She did appreciate everything that had been done for her, up to and including this breakfast; she just couldn’t bring herself to eat with her usual enthusiasm.

“It’s a long trip,” her mother reminded her softly. “And you know your father won’t want to stop. You’d better eat up.”

Danni did her best to smile. “I’m trying, Mom,” she said quietly.

“Nervous?” Her mother’s warm, perceptive brown gaze locked with her own.

“Terrified,” Danni admitted. “And…and it’s harder than I thought, leaving everyone behind.”

“Oh, you won’t even miss us after a week,” her mother told her—though it was clear from her eyes that she hoped that wouldn’t be entirely true. “You just wait—you’ll be so busy that summer will come, and you won’t even realize that the time has passed.”

In a sense, that was probably true. Danni had read all the material for the Academy. Students weren’t accepted until their junior or senior years—not into the Academy itself—and if they were accepted as juniors, then their academic goals became simple: to finish all of the coursework necessary for them to graduate by the end of the junior year, so that the senior could be devoted entirely to dance.

She was going to be busy—but she thought she would have more than enough time to miss her family.

It seemed an eternity before her father finally came down for breakfast. Danni tried to make conversation with her mother; but everything she said just came out sounding like “goodbye,” and this wasn’t, not really. She would be able to call, to speak with them often; and she’d write, and email, and all of the things that people did to communicate even when physically, they were far away from one another.

She would do them all, she swore to herself—but it wasn’t going to be easy.

Finally, her father was there; and though he ate with gusto, he was at least done quickly. He seemed to realize that Danni was staring at every bite of food put in his mouth, waiting for him to be done.

Either that, or he understood the same urgency. Now that it was time to go, they were all eager to have the journey done, to start settling into their lives according to the new routine.

“Well, kiddo,” he asked in his warm, firm voice. “Everything packed and ready?”

“I think I’ve got it all, Dad,” she agreed. “And anything I missed, Mom can ship to me, right?”

“Right,” her mother hastened to put in. “We’re not so far away as all that, after all. Maybe we can come up and visit you some weekend.”

“Now, Kerri,” her husband pointed out gently. “You read all that material just the same as I did. There are parents’ weekends when we’re allowed to visit, but Danni’s going to be too busy for us to interrupt her for awhile.”

Those words left a sick feeling in the pit of Danni’s stomach. That was the thing that she liked least about the Academy—the reason she had almost decided not to go. Parents weren’t welcome except for one weekend every other month. Oh, they were allowed; but the parent materials had made it quite clear that they were to visit only on very rare occasions. Dancers at the Academy simply didn’t have a lot of extra time.

And she wouldn’t, Danni knew. On top of her academic work—cramming two years into one—and her dance classes—a schedule more packed than any she’d ever seen before—she was going to be working with some of the younger students to help earn her scholarship money, just like she had at home. And there were rehearsals, and performances, and a hundred other things that would eat away at her time until she didn’t have any left at all….

Yes, it was going to be an interesting new life—nothing like the one Danni had remembered.

But she would be able to dance. God would use the next two years, she felt sure.

She was going to be able to dance for Him, just as she had always dreamed. As far as Danni was concerned, that was the important part. All of the rest would fall into place, just as long as she could dance for her God.