Adrian’s smile remained fixed and unmoving for a few seconds, giving us plenty of time to work ourselves into a low-grade panic. The dancers around me began to shift nervously, their chins dipping and their shoulders tensing. I forced myself to remain still, looking relaxed and content in my position. If someone was getting eliminated today, it wasn’t going to be me. Why, they couldn’t do the show without me! It was easier to look like I believed it than it would have been to actually start believing, but I hadn’t been a dancer for most of my life without learning how to control my face.
Then he relaxed, moving into his patented sympathetic look, and said, “Come on, my darlings, you can’t really believe we’d do that to America, can you?” The fact that he didn’t need to say what “that” was should have been proof enough. Wisely, no one said anything. “None of you are getting eliminated today. We brought back our twenty top dancers because we wanted to show what you could do if you didn’t have to go through the early stages of getting used to our format and learning how to work with our choreographers. We wanted to take all the stops off, and let you run. So no, there is not going to be a surprise elimination today: all twenty of you will be taking the stage in one week.”
The mass visibly relaxed. Someone murmured, “Oh, thank God,” and the dancers around them giggled, nervous and relieved.
“That doesn’t mean we’re not gonna put you to work,” said Lindy, not to be left out. She fixed us with a stern look, only slightly diluted by the fact that she was still smiling. “You thought the choreography in your seasons was hard? Now we know what you’re capable of, we’re not going to be pulling any punches. You’re going to work harder than you’ve ever worked before, and you’re going to love every second of it.”
The dancers broke into “spontaneous” applause. There was an element of honesty to what she was saying: we probably would love whatever we were told to do. We hadn’t become dancers because we wanted to avoid challenges. I’d always been happiest when I was bruised, aching, and on the verge of collapse, and the same held true for most of the people around me.
Clint just beamed. “I’m so happy you’re all back with us. I can’t—you know eliminations are almost as hard on us as they are on you. You’re the ones who have to leave, but we’re the ones who have to watch you go. You’re our best and brightest, and every time one of you walked away, you took a little bit of my heart with you. It’s so nice to have my heart back.” Coming from anyone else, it would have sounded utterly cheesy. Coming from Clint, it sounded sincere. He really did love each and every one of us, which was why he was everybody’s favorite judge. No matter how badly you screwed up, Clint would be there to say you were wonderful.
“Now, Adrian, I know our format is a little different this season—what can our dancers expect?” Brenna moved back into the scene, stopping next to the outside line of dancers. A few people turned to smile up at her. Most of us kept our attention on the judges.
“Well, Brenna, for the most part, we’re staying with the tried and true: we’re going to be splitting our dancers into partnerships, and those partnerships will dance live on our stage, beginning with next week’s performance show. America will vote, and each week the girl and the guy with the lowest votes will be eliminated, until the top four have been chosen. Then it’s every dancer for themselves, and we determine who of our top twenty will be America’s Dancer of Choice.” Adrian sounded very invested in what he was saying. Forget world peace: what mattered was who America would vote for. “I know you’re all aware of what’s at stake, and I know you’re all going to dance your best. Because we wanted to recapture the magic of your original seasons, we’re going to be initially keeping the partnerships where they stood as of the end of your first appearance.”
Some dancers murmured, looking dismayed: they’d lost their partners going into the top four, and would be dancing with people they didn’t have much experience with. Others grinned or punched the air. I kept smiling serenely. My partner, Anders, had been with me from the beginning. I’d pulled his name out of the supposedly randomized hat. We knew each other incredibly well, and we’d be able to get back into the groove quickly.
“Initially,” repeated Adrian. Both the cheers and the mutters stopped as we all went still, watching him with the wariness of mice sharing a tank with a snake. “In addition to voting on individual dancers, America will be voting on whether or not any given partnership should be broken up. If your partnership doesn’t draw enough votes, you’ll find yourself with someone new—and since we have dancers here from five seasons, that someone new may be someone you’ve never even spoken to before.”
The feeling of unease on the stage was growing. We’d always been subject to the whims of the audience. Now we were going to be more at their mercy than ever.