Drama kids and musicians were her people.
After a break, Mr. Fisk called, “I want to block Laurey’s nightmare ballet with the full cast and chorus to see how spacing looks with the dance elements. That way we can do a full Act I run-through tomorrow. Laurey, Jud, center stage, please.”
Faith changed into her pointe shoes, then walked over to Josh as the chorus dancers surrounded them. “Ready?”
He shrugged. “My part’s not that hard.”
Anger burned like a banked coal in her chest. “Good. Then don’t screw it up.”
“Places!” Mr. Fisk called from the fifth row. “Orchestra, start from the beginning. Faith, remember you’re bewildered and increasingly horrified.”
That shouldn’t be a problem. She took her place stage left, and Josh crossed to stage right and hooked his thumbs into his waistband. His smug expression faded into a hard, dominating expression. Almost too believable.
Faith raised her arms into fourth position and tilted her head. Bewildered. Afraid. Grieving. Oh, she had that down. She widened her eyes and parted her lips as two saloon girls did a mocking cancan on either side of Josh, who had now become Jud in her eyes.
The dancers moved aggressively her direction. Relevé, pirouette away. Elevé, skitter to the back of the stage. Be afraid, Laurey. Be very afraid. He’s going to hurt you.
Her heart pounded—the fear felt too real. Three cowboys jigged around her, and she clapped her hands to her head and spun in the opposite direction. Jud knocked them away and reached for her. She leaped, landed, took three flutter steps, then jumped into a full split, crossing the stage mostly in the air. Jud stalked after her again, and the mocking cancan girls walked behind him, sneering and smirking.
She backed up, spinning, and bumped into the cowboys, who took three menacing steps forward, forcing her toward Jud. Goose bumps rose on her arms, and real horror crept up her throat. She couldn’t disassociate herself from Laurey anymore.
Josh grabbed her around her waist and pulled her roughly against him. Faith went up on her toes and arched her back as he spun them in a circles. At the end of the third spin, he gave her a little shove, sending her twirling into the cowboys. They laughed and spun her right back. Faith bunched her muscles, took a step, and leaped into Josh’s arms.
He was supposed to catch her waist and lift her above his head—the easiest of their three lifts this scene. Just a quick up, then down. Instead he staggered back and dropped her.
Faith barely kept her balance and landed hard on her heels. Mr. Fisk yelled, “Cut!”
“What was that?” she asked.
Josh shrugged. “Sorry. You’re heavy.”
The two cancan girls rolled their eyes and one said, “She’s got muscle tone, but she’s not even close to heavy, you jackass.”
“Shut up, Alyssa.” He turned to glare at Faith. “Whose idea was it to put lifts in this thing, anyway?”
“Mine,” Mr. Fisk snapped. “And you told me you could do it. Can you?”
“I’m not sure.”
Mr. Fisk muttered under his breath before pointing at Josh. “Run it again. Anticipate the move. Faith’s giving you momentum with her jump. You just have to carry her the rest of the way up.” He sighed. “All the same, we probably should remove the fish lift. I’ll work out something else.”
Faith’s face burned. Heavy? Sure, she had muscle tone, like Alyssa said, but she’d never thought of herself as heavy. Was that what NYU saw when they watched her audition? A ballerina with a pretty voice, who couldn’t be lifted by a typical musical theater student? A girl who could jump, but couldn’t fly?
They went through the scene again and again. Josh managed to lift her twice, but he dropped her one other time, and fell over, carrying her with him on the last try.
“Cut,” Mr. Fisk called wearily. “That’s it for tonight. Go home, rest up. Josh, Faith, make sure you stretch and find some Icy Hot for those bruises.”
Everyone scattered. Rehearsal had been a disaster, and no one wanted to stick around. Faith lingered on the stage, trying to stop feeling defeated. “Mr. Fisk? Can I stay? I want to work out a few things to modify the scene for tomorrow.”
Lights were already being turned off around the theater. Mr. Fisk glanced back at Cade. “I wish I could say yes, but I’m late for something. Can it wait until tomorrow?”
Tears welled in her eyes, so she stared at her pointe shoes. “Okay.”
“Mr. Fisk? I can stay,” Cade called from his dark audio nook. “I have a key. If you’re okay with that, Faith?”
Mr. Fisk looked torn, but Faith jumped on it. “That would be great.”
“All right,” he said. “I’m trusting you two. Only one hour, got it? Then lock up and head home before your parents write me nasty emails for cutting into homework time.”
She nodded. “Thanks.”