Dance Academy Anywhere but Here Read Online Free PDF Page B

I’m going to keep up my end of the bargain. It doesn’t go unnoticed. In our demonstration class Miss Raine is almost impressed.
    ‘Katrina, interesting what happens when you try,’ she says.
    Tara’s dad stands up in the middle of the class and shouts, ‘Gooo Tara Banana!’ It’s funny, but he’s so proud of her he can’t help himself. It’s a natural, uncontrolled, happy pride. Can’t see Natasha ever doing anything like that.
    After the demonstration class, Mum bestows some feedback on me.
    ‘Miss Raine tells me you are good when you put the effort in. That’s marvellous.’
    But as always the praise is followed by a request.
    ‘Teensy favour for your mother, Kat darling. Those awful publicists won’t leave me alone and have begged me to do an interview and a photo shoot for
Woman
magazine while I’m here.’
    ‘Not caring about having a glamour moment, Mum.’
    ‘Well you should care. It’s for the good of the Company. Ballet needs all the promotion it can get and they want you to be involved, too.’
    ‘Please, no.’ I can sense the horror already.
    ‘It’ll be fun. A mother-daughter bonding moment for us. And the shoot is just on the roof terrace here tomorrow so it won’t take long. And I have promised you a holiday.’
    She knows the holiday is her trump card. I can’t counter it, but I am going to do some research and find the place in Australia that is geographically furthest away from a dance stage.
    The photo shoot is so creepy. The ‘stylist’ should be taken out and shot. She’s got us in matching dresses: black with pink, yellow and white spots. We look like an accident in a liquorice allsorts factory.
    We have to walk up and down the roof terrace of the Academy being photographed while the interviewer gushes at my mother.
    ‘We look like sisters,’ I say, trying to emphasise how stupid it is but Pip, the interviewer, thinks I’m complimenting Mum.
    ‘I know. When I saw you dance Aurora, I couldn’t believe you had a fifteen-year-old at home,’ she coos.
    ‘It’s just make-up and lighting,’ says Natasha in a delightfully youthful way.
    ‘If only that was all I needed,’ says Pip with a laugh as genuine as my mother’s. ‘Did you watch your mum in that role, Kat?’
    ‘I always watch her. I can’t get enough of watching her,’ I say, managing to get the required words out, focusing on the holiday to keep me from screaming. It’s not like I haven’t danced the loving daughter role before.
    ‘It just amazes me, Natasha, how you juggle everything. Lars Pedersen told me you’re booked for the European Gala?’ Pip asks and then makes us ‘reset’ – go back to the far end of the terrace and then walk forward again as the photographer takes pictures. We’ve already reset twice. How many more photos of these hideous dresses do they need?
    ‘The gala’s like performing to royalty,’ Pip continues. ‘You can’t tell me you can come home after that and clean the bathrooms?’
    ‘No, that’s not confirmed yet,’ Natasha says.
    I’ve vagued out but the hesitation in my mother’s voice gets my attention. Suddenly I realise what the real story here is. It’s the same old one.
    ‘Sorry, silly me. When is the gala again?’ I ask Pip.
    ‘It’s in the next few weeks, isn’t it? Will you be going Kat?’
    Now I know exactly what’s going on. It doesn’t matter how brilliant my marks were, Natasha neverintended taking me on ‘my’ holiday. European Galas don’t come up at the last moment. She lied to make me behave and do this interview.
    I stare at her. She’s done it again and I’ve fallen for it again. Stupid daughter, standing in a heinous spotty dress! I actually believed that if I tried hard in dancing then I would get what I wanted. That’s it. If
Woman
magazine want a mother-daughter story I’ll give them one.
    ‘Yeah,’ I say with a sweet smile. ‘Luckily it’s right at the same time as my school holidays. Mum always makes sure I have the