How It Feels to Fly(54)

“Her arms—” Jenna says. “Her hands, they’re—she—” The spin is done. Skater-Jenna starts picking up speed for a jump. “Okay, she’s going to do a triple loop, double loop. She’s going to try, anyway. Her preparation is strong, and . . .”

I feel like we all hold our breath as skater-Jenna launches herself into the air.

It looks good to me, but Jenna frowns. “She under-rotated the triple, so her preparation for the double was off—”

Dr. Lancaster clears her throat and Jenna blanches.

“But she saved it,” she says quickly. “She won’t necessarily lose component points. Um, there’s a footwork sequence coming up. Jenna’s been working on speed and clarity in her footwork. . . .” She keeps talking, through gritted teeth, until her on-screen self falls on a jump near the end of the program. Then she full-body winces and clamps her mouth shut.

Dr. Lancaster pauses the video with skater-Jenna scrambling up from the ice. “Tell us what’s happening, Jenna,” she says.

Jenna shakes her head, staring at the screen. Horror and disgust flicker across her features. “There is absolutely nothing good I can say about that.”

“Take a moment. Think.”

Jenna shifts from foot to foot. She closes her eyes. And she chokes out, “That’s a new jump combination for Jenna. A lot of senior ladies don’t have that one in their repertoire yet.”

“Good.”

The video continues. Skater-Jenna does a final sit-spin, jumps up, and glides to a stop. The crowd applauds, but when the camera goes to close-up on her face, she’s wearing the same guarded expression she had when she first got here.

And she’s wearing it now. “Are we done?”

“I’d like to go through a few more,” Dr. Lancaster says, cueing up the next video.

While we’re watching, the AC cycles on. I shiver again, rubbing my hands up and down my arms. And then a sweatshirt appears over my shoulder. I turn in my chair, squinting in the dark but knowing already who I’ll see.

“Want this?” Andrew whispers, leaning forward.

I take it. I put it on and zip it up fast. It smells like him. I didn’t realize until this exact moment that I knew what Andrew smells like.

“Don’t know how much longer we’ll be in here,” he says, his mouth close to my ear. “Lucky I brought that, huh.”

“Yeah.”

I hear the squeak of him sitting back in his chair. I feel Katie’s eyes on me. But I keep my eyes on Jenna. She’s telling us about the nuances of various spin positions, and I can tell she’s itching to point out what’s wrong with what she’s doing on-screen, but she stops herself. I shiver again, and this time it’s not from the cold.

My challenge is tomorrow. I hope I’m up for it.

I breathe in deep and settle in to Andrew’s hoodie’s embrace.





nineteen


WHEN WE GET BACK TO THE PERFORM AT YOUR PEAK house, Dr. Lancaster has us gather in the Dogwood Room. Dominic and Zoe sit on opposite sides of the circle, but it doesn’t feel like it’s far enough apart. The air is thick with tension.

“Who wants to go first?” Dr. Lancaster asks.

After a few beats of silence, Dominic mutters, “Sorry I lost my cool.”

Dr. Lancaster touches Zoe’s shoulder. “Zoe?”

“Whatever.”

“That’s not what we talked about—”

“Why should I have to apologize?” She crosses her arms and juts her chin out.

“You’re here to support one another, not belittle one another’s feelings.”

“Why should I care about your feelings?” She talks right at Dominic. “And I thought you didn’t do feelings, anyway.”

Dominic is slouching in his seat. His eyes are hooded. Now it’s his turn to say, “Whatever.”

“Dominic, do you want to talk about how the challenge felt for you?”

“Nope. Pass.”

“Okay. Maybe we’ll dive in later. Jenna, how about you? How did you feel about your challenge?”

“Fine.” It’s an automatic answer. No emotion behind it.

“Why do you think it was so difficult for you to compliment your own performance?”

“It was fine. Can we move on?” She sits up taller, her spine an iron rod.

“If you want to open up, it might help your peers prepare for their challenges—”

“I’d prefer to talk to you about it in private.”

Dr. Lancaster nods. “All right.” She looks at each of us in turn. “Remember, while your anxiety is internal, it’s often a response to external stimuli. It doesn’t exist in a vacuum.”

Well, obviously.

I don’t think I’d hate my body nearly as much if it weren’t for how people look at me. If it weren’t for what they say to me and about me. If I couldn’t see myself next to skinnier dancers. If I weren’t part of a ballet culture that cares so much about body type.

But there’s still part of my anxiety that’s me, specifically. I don’t think every person in my situation would respond the way I have. Not everyone has this inner voice repeating, You’re fat, you’re ugly, you’re awful, you’ll never get what you want, give up, give up on a constant loop. Not every dancer would turn into a shuddering blob of sweat and tears and sequins at the sight of her own body in the mirror.