Dancer's Delight [one | one]

[dinismith]

“That will be all for today. Don’t forget you’ll need to be finished with you five minute solo by Friday.” Anthony's voice was deep and loud. The students resumed their natural postures before going to the other end of the room and gathering their things. “If you need any help don’t hesitate to ask.” Anthony walked to the stereo and switched the music off, glad for the day to be over. The twenty-nine year old had been teaching back to back for five hours now and he was exhausted. Then again it was like this everyday. Being a dance instructor for Kirov Academy of Ballet practically meant exhaustion was a requirement.

Only the best dancers were allowed into the academy which meant they could only be taught by the best. Anthony Sandino was lucky enough to be one of those teachers. He spent seven years in the New York Dance Company and had appeared in numerous plays, only picking up teaching when he became “too old”. Even so, he still pushed himself to be better and hoped it rubbed off on his students. He worked so that one of his students might have the chance to do the things he’d done at their age. The students said their goodbyes for the day and Anthony went to gather his things and change before turning the lights out and walking out door.

He could still hear a few other classes going one and smiled a bit. Holding teens passed the allotted time always meant having to repeat things the next day. They always clocked out at exactly three pm. Continuing down the wooded hall he turned and stopped when someone caught his eye. In a room to his left was a young woman who appeared to be practicing. Coming closer and leaned a bit into the window he could see she was alone. He wondered how long she’d been there for he could see the sweat dripping down her spine even from here. Even with fatigue her form was still impeccable from the arc of her arm to her perfectly executed pirouette. He was impressed to say the least.

 

[cephei]

Cecilia Carreno glanced at her wrist watch before she continued working on the position of her arms and feet. It was a couple of minutes before three o’clock in the afternoon, and while most students were getting ready to leave she was just warming up. She had been practicing in the private studio for over six hours and this was still considered to be her warm-up period, for she did not leave the academy until the cleaning staff appeared and by that point she was required to leave. If she could, she would have stayed even later. The long hours she put into practice was the least she could do to show her appreciation. The seventeen-year-old did not know the cost of tuition for Kirov Academy of Ballet, but she knew it was enough to prevent her parents from engaging in fun activities.

She lifted her long arms over her head and stretched, hearing the occasional crack from her spine as she leaned from one side to the next. Cecilia had asked her parents how much it cost for her to attend the dance academy, but they would not say. She assumed it cost them a pretty penny, but they always told her it was well worth it. They always dreamed of their daughter pursuing something she truly enjoyed, and Cecilia took up a love for dancing ever since she could walk. It was remarkable, really, considering her parents were not the type who would appreciate fine arts—they were common middle-class workers, if ‘middle-class’ was still the right word to use for them. Her height and level of flexibility were even more remarkable, as she had doubts her parents could even perform the splits, let alone lean over to reach their toes. Needless to say, these two gifts helped her greatly when her parents decided to send in an application to Kirov Academy of Ballet.

Cecilia reached for a small towel to dab the sweat from her forehead. She could feel her calf muscles starting to ache from the long hours, but it was a good ache. She put the towel down on a bench and took a few mouthfuls of water, swallowing as quickly as possible as if to save as much time as possible. Instantaneously, she felt much better. She smiled and placed the bottle next to the towel, allowing herself a moment to catch her breath before she went back to practicing pirouettes and petit sautés. Before she could do that, however, she happened to glance at the window and noticed a man watching her. Her first instinct was to shrug it off and continue practicing, but it did not take long before Cecilia realized who this man was—Anthony Sandino. Now, Cecilia had never been in any of his classes, despite having attended the academy for a few years, but her closest friend in the academy constantly raved around Anthony. She only recognized him because that same friend once pointed him out to her.

She adjusted the straps of her black, skin-tight leotard before she started to walk to the door. Admittedly, she could not conjure a reason as to why he would be watching her—positive reasons, at least. Perhaps he was waiting for the right time to tell her cleaning staff needed to get in there. It would not have been the first time. Finally, she reached the door and she opened it, albeit in a hesitating manner. Her green eyes looked practically sleep deprived. Her long black hair was pulled up into a sloppy bun; perhaps her hair looked matted and sloppy due to her rigorous practice. “Were you waiting for this room?” she asked, brushing the backside of her hand across her forehead. “If so, I apologize. I can get my things and be out in a matter of seconds.”

 

[dinismith]

Anthony watched as she took a break and started to leave, only stopping when her eyes caught his. He was disappointed to have interrupted her but there was nothing he could do about it. Her walk was light and she her body moved well. He smiled a bit when he saw her dancer’s posture. Some people worked hard to get it but he never cared for it. On some it looked regal…and others, well they just looked stiff. He stepped back as she opened the door, figuring it would go away after she cooled down a bit. Now that she was closer, he could see she her small face was accompanied by intense green eyes, much like his own. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion and her dark hair looked even darker from the perspiration that was most likely accumulating. She looked…what was the word? Dewey. She would’ve reminded him of someone on a hot summer day if it wasn’t for the black leotard and ballet shoes he was currently wearing.

But where was he? She was talking to him still. He smiled and shook his head. “No, need. I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I was just on my way out when I happen to see you practicing.” He cupped the back of his neck as he looked at her, amusement in his eyes. “I must say, you were doing pretty well. Although your breaks are entirely too short if my eyes were correct.” He held on to the strap of his bag as he continued on. Now that he interrupted her he didn’t really see the point in being rude and leaving. Besides she need more than the five second break she seemed to give herself. He held out his hand. “I’m Anthony Sandino. I teach at the end of the hall in room 293. Are you new to the academy? I’ve taught many of the students here but I don’t ever recall seeing you.”

What he said was true enough. He took the time to get to know each of his students and he’d never come across her. He was sure he would’ve remembered her. There was something about her that stood out to him. Of course part of it was that he found her attractive but it was more than that. He just couldn’t figure out what. Maybe it was a good thing he never saw her, he had a job to do and having less the innocent thoughts about a student while in class (or anywhere Anthony Sandino) wasn’t good…especially in the garb they were required to wear. It made him smile just thinking about the major levels on embarrassment that would being for his students.

 

[cephei]

Cecilia offered a sheepish grin when he commented on the length of her breaks. “I suppose you are right, but then again I cannot afford to take long breaks.” It was a true statement. Cecilia imagined most of the students in the academy came from a wealthy family or at least a family where financial problems were not present. Her family did not fit into that category, but they certainly were not poor—they had enough money to send her to the academy, which was probably more than what the average family salary consisted of. Still, she could not help but to wonder how many students were being forced to attend the academy because their mother, father, or perhaps a grandparent attended. She saw the dull expressions of students quite often; although, she doubted they would actual admit their disinterest. The point that was running through Cecilia’s mind was that surely there were students here who did not want to be here, so it would not have mattered to them as much whether they practiced for a couple hours a week, maximum, or took long, frequent rest periods. Cecilia felt as though not practicing for extreme lengths each and every day, with minimal breaks, would have been a waste of her parent’s money.

She continued to think of these thoughts for another minute, completely unaware of the fact she had been spacing out; until she saw his outstretched hand, that is. It took a second for this to register in her mind, another second before her motor skills started to go to work, and she reached out with her hand to shake his. His skin felt pleasantly warm. “Mr. Sandino.” Cecilia murmured this, more or less to herself, just to keep the name-face association clear. “Cecilia Carreno. I’ve actually been here a couple of years, but all of my classes are at the other end of this building,” she indicated, tilting her head a bit to the side and nodding off in that direction. The corner of her lips twitched upward into a smile at his comment about never seeing her. “No, I doubt you would have. If I’m not in class I’m in this studio. I really don’t linger around long enough to talk with others.” Cecilia shrugged, although this did not bother her. She was not a recluse, yet at the same time she was no social butterfly. If she had the opportunity to talk that was fine, at least when it came to being outside of the studio. The few friends she did have in the academy (two of which she knew outside of dance class) knew of her situation, so it did not surprise them when she only waved when they passed each other in the hall. “I have seen you before, though,” she added, and a slight shiver traveled down her spine now that endorphins were wearing off and she was no longer waltzing to and fro across the studio. “I have a friend who has been in your class and she pointed you out to me one day.” Cecilia paused for a moment and crossed her arms over her chest. “You sound as though you’re a rather popular teacher. I suppose I’m just one of the unlucky students who haven’t had the opportunity to be in your class.” There was a sort of sing-song tone to her voice; despite the fact her body temperature was lowering, she still felt ecstatic from the exercise. She always felt cheerful after her practice sessions were finished, and the glow to her face was a clear indicator of that.

“I hope I’m not keeping you from leaving?” she asked as she noticed the bag over his shoulder.

 

[dinismith]

Anthony’s brows rose in surprise. She sounded a lot like him when he was younger, determined to excel at everything he’d been taught. It didn’t take long for him to figure out that that didn’t come without consequences. The body needed rest just as much as it needed activity. He’d learned that the hard way when he ended up in hospital due to dehydration and lack of energy. Apparently he was using his energy faster than his body could make it. Coming back after that had been hard, catching up had been even harder and he vowed never to do that again. “It might feel that way now but getting injured because you’re body is tired cost far more than ten minutes to just relax.” He held his hands up in mock surrender. “you don’t have to take my word for it but don’t say you were never warned."

He wondered what made her practice so hard that she gave up things that most teens swore they couldn’t live without. Even he had a friend he practiced with, did everything with but Cecilia made it sounds as if she didn’t care for interacting, didn’t want to. Even so, her parents must have raised her well because so spoke easy enough with his and with self confidence at that. He chuckled as she made mention of his popularity and scratched the top of his head sheepishly. “I don’t know if I’d call myself popular. You’re the first to say so actually. I just like what I do, and I help those who want a chance at their dream. I think it’s hard to do that if you don’t encourage and push them.” He could think of some teachers here who were quick to point out mistakes, never mentioning how they could fix them, never telling them what they did right so they could keep doing it. Anthony didn’t see that as teaching.

Her cheerful mood and smile made her look like a kid who’d done a good deed and Anthony couldn’t help but smile and for the first time noticed the scent she seemed to be wearing. It was light but lasted through her practicing. “You don’t have to be in my class to work with me. I’m happy to help any student who asks as long as their instructor is fine with it.” He looked down at his watch, his obnoxiously long hair from behind his shoulders before shaking his head and pushing it out of the way. It was a family thing, what could he say. “No, not at all.” He nodded towards the room. “I’m sure you must want to get back to working though.” Taking a step back from the room he bowed slightly. “If you ever need help with something don’t hesitate to ask. It was nice meeting you Cecilia.” He smiled before turning. “I’m sure I’ll see you on some famous stage one day.” Little did he know how true that was and why.