"That's right Clark, get to work. Don't let 'em get by you."
"Whadda ya mean 'get to work'? You know, you're on scholarship too and I've never seen you lift a finger around here."
"Oh, I work plenty hard buddy boy, believe me."
Clark snorts in disbelief.
"Only I don't have to do the mop-and-bucket jobs anymore kiddo. I leave those to the low slime on the totem pole." I say as I reach over and muss up his ash blonde hair.
"Hey! Is that an insult?" he says in mock seriousness.
"Mr. Connors, you are late for class and how many times have I told you not to antagonize the low slime on the totem pole?" Stephanie says as she comes down the stairs from her office, her arms full of albums and assorted papers. Even balancing the awkward load she effortlessly manages to make the descent an exercise in elegance and tall grace.
"You've never told me that."
"Well, I always meant to. Now get to class." She says as she passes me, her Norwegian blue eyes twinkling with an impish combination of stern amusement.
"Oh, I don't know Steph, I thought I'd just skip the barre and show up for the fun stuff in the center."
"Very funny. Get upstairs."
"You don't think Troyos would mind do you?"
"Go!"
"I'm going, I'm going."
"Grayce Connors, if you aren't at the barre in ten seconds, I'll send Clark here home early and YOU can do the clean up tonight."
"You're not serious. You�d actually make me clean?"
"Ten, nine, eight..." She finishes her descent and enters the main office right by the front door. She continues counting loudly while out of sight.
"Seven, six..."
"After all I've done for you?"
"Five, four, three..."
Stephanie�s tall and willowy frame comes back out of the office but I�ve already made my escape�
* * * * *
I take my reserved place at the barre by corner one and join in the middle of a tendu combination after a few quick plies.
"What�s the matter G.C.? Couldn't decide whether or not to grace us with your presence?" Troyos asks wryly as he makes his way past the other dancers, pausing to stop just behind me.
"Nah, someone tied my tights into a slipknot so they took a while to put on. Do I look o.k.?"
"You never stop do you?"
"Only long enough to take a breath."
"Obviously. Don't knuckle your toes under like that."
"Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Just stop doing it." He says as he walks away to correct the same dancer that forgot to sign in earlier.
Troyos comes out to the suburbs four days a week to teach at Madsen, which is the largest, most professional school out here. The next step up would be to go into the city and study at the Chicago Ballet School, which is the training school of the Chicago City Ballet. Unfortunately, a lot of us are stuck way out here in the suburbs and driving an hour or more to the city each way and still keep up with school is next to impossible. Steph was once one of CCB�s stars and her close ties with the company keep us all connected to our greater goal. But still, it isn't quite the same...
"Aaargh!! NO! NO! NO! STOP!"
Mrs. Ethel Bullard, the senile and deaf but still amazingly brilliant accompanist stops and looks up from behind the piano.
"WHAT is the point of doing grand-rond-des-jambs if you aren't going to fully extend your leg AND turn it out at the same time? EH? I mean we all might as well take the five minutes and LAY ON THE FLOOR!
I could use a little nap, I think to myself but before the wisecrack can make it's way out of my mouth, Troyos fixes me with a glare that could cause the air conditioning in hell to finally kick in. I wisely say nothing.
