Starry Nights Read Online Free PDF Page B

laugh. I move on to California drawl. “That and the tiniest bit of knowledge about ballet. But really, secrets. So tell me yours.”
    â€œI haven’t told anyone yet, but I’m auditioning for the ballet next week.” Emilie pushes a hand through her black hair that is straight as a blade and dark as the steel edge of the night.
    â€œThe Paris Ballet?”
    â€œThe one and only.”
    â€œI thought you were in high school. With Lucy.”
    â€œI am.” Emilie looks side to side, as if she is sweeping the square for spies, before she whispers, “But I got an audition for this newsummer program for high school students who are supposed to be promising or something.”
    â€œThat’s amazing.”
    â€œDon’t tell anyone, though. Because there is
no way
I’m getting in, and then all my friends are going to be disappointed. I’m not good enough.” Emilie’s green eyes look defeated, and I hear music again. This time it’s the faint sounds of
Giselle.
I turn to look at the choir and they’re still singing, so the music must be coming from an apartment close by, drifting out an open window into the early June night.
    â€œI seriously doubt the Paris Ballet gives auditions to dancers who aren’t good enough.”
    â€œI’m sure it was totally a mistake that they let me even try out,” she says with a forced laugh, and the music grows louder, as if the notes are swirling around Emilie, wrapping her in a cocoon of sweet sound.
    â€œOh, right. Of course. Just a little error the Paris Ballet made when sending out invites. Emilie, I suspect you’re fantastic,” I say, because she has to be. There’s just no other way.
    The violins from
Giselle
keep playing. “Is your iPod still on?”
    She shows me her iPod. “See? Off. Why?”
    Great. I’m not only seeing things, now I’m hearing things too. “I heard
Giselle.
”
    Her eyes widen. “You heard
Giselle
?”
    I nod, feeling like a supreme idiot. I should know better than to let on that I’m hearing music no one’s playing.
    â€œWhere is it coming from?”
    â€œI don’t know,” I say, because how do I say,
It’s kind of coming from you, and it’s growing stronger?
    â€œThat’s my audition piece, Julien,” she whispers.
    â€œ
Giselle
?”
    She nods knowingly, holding another secret between us, and as she does an image flashes fully formed before my eyes—I can picture Emilie dancing on the stage of the Paris Opera House in front of thousands of people in their red upholstered chairs underneath the six-ton candelabra. The rising sounds of the ballet build toward a gorgeous finale, a dancer pirouetting, her head tipped back, giving in to the dance, giving in with abandon.
    â€œYou’re going to blow them away, Emilie,” I say, and I feel deeply compelled to tell her this, to share my certainty. “You’re going to win a spot. I have no doubt you will be the newest member of the Paris Ballet next week.” Once the words have been spoken, the music stops.
    Emilie beams, the warmest smile I’ve ever seen. We’re joined by Simon, Lucy, and a waiter bringing espressos. I thank him, and as he walks away, Lucy models a skirt with cheeseburger drawings on it.
    â€œJust bought it. Isn’t this the best?” Lucy gives a flamboyant twirl, then settles into a chair. It strikes me as funny that the non-dancer girl is the one bold enough to execute a 360 in a public square. Lucy seems to posses a natural showmanship, from the twirl to the skirt to the long brown hair with emerald streaks that frame her face.
    â€œI think I want a shirt with french fries to go with it,” Simonsays. He takes a long swallow from his cup, as Lucy tells us her cheeseburger obsession stemmed from the year she lived in Chicago when she made it a mission to taste test the American favorite at nearly every