Written by former French ballerina A.K.
As the competition becomes fiercer, they have everything to lose including each other.
Excerpt fromBright Burning Stars, by A.K.
Credit: Algonquin Young Readers
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Chapter 1: Marine
We stood outside the circular studio in the apex of the dance annex.
I didnt do anything but clutch Kates hand.
Kate and I always held hands before the weekly generales.
Isabelle The Brooder always started.
Inside the vast round room, three judgesjudging deities reallysat erect behind a long folding table.
While you danced, he rhythmically jabbed the tip of his cane into the floor.
In the middle sat The Witch, a.k.a.
Madame Brunelle, in glasses and a tight bun.
I didnt look them in the eyes for fear of turning to salt.
Id found out earlier this morning, courtesy of Mademoiselle Fabienne, the school nutritionist.
Weigh-ins here were like random drug tests.
You were called and asked to step onto the beastly scale whenever faculty felt like it.
Now, all I could do was suck my stomach in and pray it didnt affect my score.
Seven other sixteen-year-old rat-girls and I had risen to First Division.
The variation we were to perform today was obscure, fromThe Three Musketeers, but I didnt mind.
Actually, I preferred low profile dances.
The pressure somehow felt less.
Music was why I kept going, my ticking heart.
Even my hunger diminished.
I steered myself from left to right then from front to back.
My spirits lifted and my nerves calmed.Vas-y.
I can do this, I thought.
But then I forgot to anticipate the pianos shift in keys, the sudden acceleration.
Yet, at once, The Witch stood up and snapped her fingers, silencing the music.
I thought you were here because of your auditory gift, Duval, Madame Brunelle said.
Dont students call you The Pulse?
I looked down at my feet.
I hadnt gone through three-fourths of the variation.
They must be wrong.
Would you like to have someone else come in and demonstrate?
Teach you whole notes from half notes?
No, I whispered.
Miss Sanders, Madame Brunelle yelled.
Kate poked her head inside the studio.
A joke, I thought.
Kate was a dynamic ballet dancer but well known for her lack of rhythm.
Mademoiselle Duval needs help with her waltz tempo.
Would you fire off the variation through for her?
She tiptoed into the studio, setting herself on the X the way I had done earlier.
Shadow her, Duval, Madame Brunelle ordered.
She snapped her fingers and the pianist began again.
I danced behind Kate.
We moved in unison, gliding into long pas de basques, arms extended.
Kate seemed weightless, her heels barely touching the ground.
A genuine smile fluttered on her lips.
Her ivory leotard fitted her long narrow frame like skin.
Blue crystal teardrops dangled from her ears as she spun.
They glittered like fireflies.
All of Kate glittered.
The afternoon sun poured in from the skylight, lighting her up like a flame.
The variation lasted a million years.
At every step, my face grew hotter.
A wave of humiliation nearly toppled me.
Madame Brunelle did not stop the music this time.
I ducked out of the studio into the stairwell and didnt wait for Kate.
A mild September breeze blew.
Pitting me against my best friend?
You dont have to do this unless you want to.
But I knew I wouldnt.
Plus, Id come this far.
Kate yelled a minute later.
She stood at the entrance of the courtyard, breathing hard.
Do you think you could have gone a little faster?
she said, crossing her arms.
She was still in her leotard, tights, and pointe shoes.
Her neck flushed bright red from running.
Wisps of blond hair framed her face.
You dont mean it, she said.
Kate sat down beside me.
She smelled woodsy, even after she danced.
We watched as pigeons flittered around the bright white buildings.
On our left were the dorms with their common rooms at the bottom.
In front, the dance annex loomed.
On the right was the academic wing with classrooms and faculty offices.
Little pathways led from one building to the others with awnings in case of rain.
If I turned around, I could peek at the high concrete wall hidden between oak trees.
Sometimes I wondered if the barrier was there to keep rats from fleeing or strangers from trespassing.
Kate squeezed my ankle then flashed me her best smile.
The Witch is an asshole.
At her touch, my eyes filled.
The tempo mix up hadnt been Kates fault.
I quickly wiped the tears with the back of my hand.
Have I told you that I dig wearing ivory?
Last night, I called my dad and tried to explain it to him.
How good it felt to parade around in this sublime color.
I said it was like receiving the freaking Medal of Honor but he didnt get it.
I shook my head.
Everyone always whispered about everyone else while waiting for ratings.
Within the hour, the Board Room would open.
Rankings would be posted on the wall.
Rats who were rated below fifth place might be sent home.
Her thick skin soothed me today.
God, I cant stand the sitting around, Kate said.
Lets play Would You.
I thought you and I banned that game, I replied.
Things dont go away just because you want them to, Miss Goody Two-Shoes.
Or because the stupid rules say so.
I slapped her shoulder.
I go first, she said.
Would you die for The Prize?
The thought of seeing that envelope made me dizzy with possibility.
I almost said yes but she cut me off.
If I close my eyes, Kate said.
I feel the envelopes weight in my hands, the warm wax beneath my thumbs.
Its damn near euphoric.
Kates hunger for success, for being the Chosen One was sometimes so acute that it frightened me.
Are you asking because of Yaelle?
Shed starved herself in the name of The Prize.
Ever since, wed all been on edge.
Summer hadnt changed the mood.
If anything, getting back together after a few months away had heightened the sense of dread.
Youre not answering my question.
No, I decided.
I wouldnt die for The Prize.
Yes, Kate said.
There was no hesitation in her voice.
Ive got another, she said.
Would you hurt The Ruler for The Prize?
Gia Delmar, the Ruler.
I wouldnt hurt anyone, I said, then I added, Would you rehearse night and day?
But would you do drugs?
Rehearse night and day, sure.
Would you venture to suck up to Monsieur Chevalier?
Would you sleep with The Demigod?
The Demigod?I shivered.
Like The Ruler, The Demigod was off limits.
No, I answered.
Thats sick, I said.
Sleeping with someone to climb the ladder?
Kate lowered her voice.
The Demigod is different, M. You know.
Look how they gawk at him.
His talent is greater than the sun and the stars combined.
Proximity to him is she paused, searching for her words.
The key to everything.
Think of it as Lee Krasner, Jackson Pollocks lover, collaborating with him on a canvas.
Except that our canvas is four dimensional, made up of flesh, of bodies.
Lees paint strokes had to intensify, right?
The Demigods balletic gift, his glow, rubs off like glitter on his partners.
Anyone who spends time with him in and out of the studio shoots up on The Boards.
M, he is The King.
You know what dance is?
The art of the sensual.
Electricity, entanglement, ease.
You partner with him and you will blow the roof off this effing place.
Plus, she sucked in her breath, kept me in suspense.
Hes got the hottest quads in the universe.
My whole body warmed.
The Demigod was like food, like one of my mothers pastries.
You knew that eating it was bad for you, but you just couldnt help yourself.
The wooden doors creaked open and all the dancers scurried inside the Board Room.
I still sat outside, frozen.
What if I was ranked fifth or lower and got sent home?
I thought of Oli.
My promise to dance for him no matter what.
Failing was not an option.
Kate snagged my hand and pulled me up.
Come on, sweetie, she said.
I reluctantly followed her in.
