On Point

Be There or Be Square!

By Rena Rouge

The crème de la crème of the dance world are out and about tonight at Chloé Bourgeois annual pre-casting party.

The best dancers in France will all be gathered for the last night of friendship before the cut throat period of auditions where rehearsals take place within the studios.

Any dancer knows that when it comes down to the nitty gritty of roles, dancers do not hold back. From suspicious injuries, to sudden departures, we wonder what this year will bring us.

Have fun tonight dancers, as from tomorrow the dance world transforms into a whole new experience.

*****

Marinette stood in the elevator beside Luka, neither really speaking as her small hand lay still in his. Every now and then he'd look down at her and offer her a comforting smile, one she returned. It hadn't taken her too long to get ready, the only issue being what to wear. Her hand had hovered over the dress she'd made over the summer, only for her hand to move away and choose something else instead. This wasn't the time to bring out her little black dress. Instead, she'd opted for a short pink skirt, with a three quarter sleeve off the shoulder jumper — she'd even done her hair. But even with the attempt at blending in, she still felt inadequate.

Luka's thumb began to brush in slow circles over her knuckles, a reassuring touch she needed as they travelled to somewhere she would most likely stick out like a sore thumb. Everyone within the school was gorgeous, drop dead stunning with the most perfect hair, perfect bodies and perfect makeup. She felt so beneath them all.

Ballet dancers usually fell into two groups: the rich dancers whose parents had contacts, and the lucky extras who would always play second string. She loved being in the company — it was a dream come true — but something didn't feel right. She wanted to dance ! She wanted to be free to move and feel, and she couldn't help but feel as though choosing to join a ballet school was a mistake. It was holding her back, keeping her restricted in the one discipline, and making her unsure whether she had made the right choice.

Even though the studios were purely for 'ballet' practice, she was so glad she managed to break free and dance the other evening without any repercussions. She didn't know what Gabriel had against other styles, but she couldn't help but think how old fashioned the dance royalty was. He was missing out on a major section of the dance school, and by adding in a branch of others could be truly beneficial to the school.

She brushed her free hand down her dress again, in a nervous twitch.

"You look great," Luka said, looking down to her and giving her hand the reassuring squeeze that she needed. "Beautiful."

"Thank you, you don't look too bad yourself." And she wasn't lying.

Luka was completely the opposite to what you'd expect a male ballet dancer to be. Where Adrien Agreste was your typical prune and perfected model of the art, Luka was more suited for a contemporary or hip hop style (krumping to be exact). He was rough and ragged. His hair — dark and slick, yet he dominated the dance floor with perfected ease. The music being one with his heart and soul. He just oozed the style from every muscle and bone. A top contender for the lead roles.

The elevator finally reached its destination, the chime sounding in preparation for a night Marinette wasn't sure she wanted to attend. She wished Alya was here, but unfortunately she hadn't been invited to attend either so was spending the night with her boyfriend. Herself and Alya, most certainly, were the outcasts.

"Let's go." Luka led her out of the elevator and towards the loud music coming from behind the door at the end of the hallway. Her feet dragged down the red carpeted runway, pictures on either walls of Chloe in many of her ballet performances. She wasn't sure whether this corridor was solely Chloe's or if her father just idolised her that much. She wouldn't be surprised by either answer.

She clutched onto Luka's hand a little tighter, feeling like a piece of meat that was about to be thrown to the Lions. How could Luka be so cool and calm? She always believed he was like herself and Alya, a slight oddball in a world of wannabe Barbie and Kens, however, the relaxed walk was so confident and all knowing, it only made her feel more out of touch.

As though he'd been here before, Luka grabbed the handle and let them in. The noise assaulted her ears as the smell of sweat and booze insulted her senses. People laughed loudly as they pinned each other to furniture, other's played what seemed like strip poker at the table, and others were hanging around the kitchen getting merrier by the minute.

"Want a drink?" Luka's husky voice sounded in her ear, the warm air making her startle a little as her thoughts were too preoccupied with the activities surrounding the room.

"Just water, please."

Luka looked at her quizzically. "You do realise this is a party, right? Feel free to let your hair down a little."

Marinette flicked her hair in a joking way. "I think I already have."

Luka smiled politely, yet she wasn't sure he appreciated the joke. Not wanting him to think she was a bore, she quickly looked at what was on offer on the table.

"Actually, could you make me a weak vodka and orange, I don't want to be drinking too much tonight."

"Sure." The smile grew on Luka's face, one which this time reached his eyes and made them sparkle like the moon reflecting on the ocean. She couldn't help the sudden flutters in her stomach. She was so lucky to be here with him tonight. It wasn't a secret that, along with Adrien, Luka had become a studio 'heartthrob'. Every girl wanted his help or to partner with him, yet, here he was, perfectly content with her.

He dropped her a wink, her body reacting like a tilt o'whirl from the flirty gesture, sending her heart into a free flow around her body. Every nerve stood to attention, and her eyes were glued to watching him.

Yes, she was so lucky to be here with Luka tonight.

"Who invited you?" The sudden sound of a bitter female voice echoed in her ear. "I'm quite sure we didn't invite the rejects."

Turning around, Marinette came face to face with Lila Rossi and it was the first time she realised how much taller the Prima ballerina was to her. Marinette knew she was short for the programme but standing in front of Lila with her incredibly long legs pushing her a good few inches taller than Marinette, caused her to cower.

"I'm not here for trouble, Lila," Marinette stated, attempting to find strength from somewhere. "Luka brought me."

Lila placed a hand on her chest looking at the essence of innocence. "Oh, Marinette, I'm not here for trouble either. But this party is for dancers who will be staying on the programme, not the ones who won't even make it to the gala. That's why Alya's not here. Adrien told me exactly what went on in his meeting with his father, and both you and Alya are on your way out. It's a shame really."

A shame, my arse!

And why was Adrien spreading rumours about her? Why hadn't he just come to her and told her what his father said? Why was it coming from Lila? She knew Adrien was a stuck up snob, but she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Obviously, the lost kitten look he was displaying in rehearsals was nothing more than to get pity from the others.

"Of course," she continued. "Failing the double pirouette the other day was so heartbreaking to see. Such a simple move for dancers to nail. Oh well, I'm sure it couldn't be helped considering you aren't properly ballet trained. Where did you place in that last festival we competed in?"

Marinette felt her hands clench into tight fists. Over the years there had always been a bitter rivalry on the stage between herself and Lila, and where Lila was always one or two positions above in ballet, she never placed in contemporary or lyrical where Marinette dominated the top spot. Lila was by far the better ballet dancer, however, Marinette was fully rounded.

"Oh, sorry! I didn't know you were still sour about it, but I'm thinking maybe Adrien is right. You do need more lessons. Hopefully, your boyfriend over there can help you out?"

As Lila mentioned Luka, her head swivelled on autopilot to find him. He was talking to a blonde haired beauty. One who was making him smile in a way she'd never seen before. The girl was only slightly taller than her and had a sweet confidence about her, one which didn't seem too different to her own. It seemed Luka had forgotten about the drinks as his hands animatedly moved around before stepping up to the girl, and like a stab straight through the heart, wrapped his arms around her.

"Has he ever mentioned his ex-girlfriend?"

Obviously happy with the seed of doubt she had planted in Marinette's head, Lila disappeared, leaving her last words echoing in her departure. Was that his ex-girlfriend? He looked so at home with her, so right.

Marinette glanced around the room, looking for someone or anyone to talk to and take her eyes off Luka and the girl, but the stabbing pain kept coming back. Her chest tightened and she couldn't breathe. She began to move out of the kitchen and towards the patio.

Every person in the room was in the midst of their own thing. Sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. The side of the dance world she'd heard about but never acquainted with. She felt the anxiety beginning to build in her chest, the sight of the open patio doors calling her outside with the promise of fresh air. She hated herself for getting into this state.

She moved forwards and out of the door, finding herself on a balcony which seemed to loop around the entire apartment. She wandered around, trying to find the correct side to see the Eiffel Tower, a large presence which always calmed her. She guessed she was facing the south at the moment, and began to move around in search of the North.

Rounding the corner, she smiled at the lights that took over the skyline, a clear indication of going the correct way. The evening suddenly turned brighter, until she noticed the lone figure sitting on an upturned plant pot.

"Oh, sorry," she said, startled by the sight of Adrien Agreste. "I didn't know anyone else was out here."

*****

Looking up, Adrien was met with startling blue eyes. She looked beautiful. The soft pink dress wrapped around her body like a second skin, displaying all of her muscles to just the right amount and in just the right way. Her hair was straight, falling down her back and glistening in the moonlight. A stunning picture as she settled against the backdrop of night time in Paris.

But... If there was one thing Adrien knew for certain, it was that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was too pure for parties like this, and she shouldn't be here.

"Why are you here, Shortcake?" The words came out of his mouth without a second thought. He probably should have started with something a little more friendly, such as a 'you look great' or a simple 'hello', but once again brains and mouth weren't working in coordination. It was such a good job the two didn't need to work together for him to dance.

"I wasn't feeling the vibe in there, so I came outside for some fresh air."

She smiled at him, yet he could see the slight quiver in her lips. He was right, she shouldn't be here, and if he read her expression correctly he'd managed to offend her. Great! Not only was she now probably thinking his father was singling her out, but he was too.

"I didn't think it would be the sort of thing for you. It's not like you fit in here."

"And what does that mean?"

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. It was venomous, and he wasn't quite sure that once again he'd said something wrong. But she didn't fit in here! From what he knew she was smart, sweet, determined. She'd worked hard for what she got and wouldn't do anything to risk her career – unlike Lila who used and abused him as much as she could to get what she wanted. Talking of the devil, he couldn't help but feel glad Marinette was out here with him, away from the poison Lila could spread.

She'd crossed her arms, suddenly going into defence mode. Was she actually going to defend that she belongs here? With all these self conceited people? She wasn't one of them, and he hoped she never would be.

"You're not like the others, Marinette. I thought that was obvious."

The laugh she let out was a cold, harsh sound which assaulted his ears. "You have to be kidding me!" She rolled her eyes and turned her head to face out into the Paris skyline.

"But —"

"You know what! Just because you're the son of the director doesn't mean you're better than any of the rest of us! You're just the same, if not worse!"

He stood up, unsure why this conversation had suddenly turned and flipped on its head. "Marinette —"

"No! You know what Adrien, you're right! I don't belong here, but I am here and you can do whatever you think, but I'm not leaving! I was given this opportunity as fairly as everyone else and I'm not going to throw it away just because you don't see me as good enough!"

"What? That's not — I didn't —"

Just before Marinette could lash out at him one more time, footsteps rounded the corner – silencing them both.

"Marinette, I wondered where..."

Luka trailed off, obviously realising something was happening. Adrien felt flustered; he was unable to comprehend what had just happened. It was almost as if she was having a totally different conversation with him. True, some of his phrasing could have been better, but he'd never insulted her.

Looking between the two, Luka stepped forward and wrapped an arm protectively around Marinette's waist, obviously reading the atmosphere and showing a clear sign of unity with her. United against him.

So, they were together? Figures really, a couple of duets together and the dancer's curse was striking hard. It seemed to always be the way; duet for more than a week and love was imminent...or so it was said. But it was all fake. A role being played on the dance floor feeding in a friendship which was happening off. It was just the close proximity which made it feel more.

"Is everything okay?" Luka questioned Marinette, before glaring back at Adrien.

"Yes, it's fine. Let's go back inside," she said. Adrien went to step forward, only to stop himself and settle back down onto the upturned plant pot. She obviously didn't want to speak to him right now, so he wasn't going to push it. Hopefully, once she'd cooled off he could apologise and maybe they could start over. He really was crap at making friends.

He watched Luka guide Marinette back into the party, before finishing his beer and discarding the bottle on a patio table nearby. He'd shown his face, and to him that was enough. He needed to get out of there, hopefully with nobody seeing him.

Heading towards the fire escape, he glanced once more through the windows at the people inside. The fake friendships, fake people, over exaggerated relationships. His eyes landed on Luka and Marinette, the male whispering into her ear as he used his other hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face.

As their faces moved closer together, Adrien turned his head away. An uncomfortable feeling settling over him for spying on an obviously private and personal moment. Focusing on the job at hand, he clambered down the fire escape, set on going home, then another thought struck him.

Quickly, Adrien drew his phone from his pocket and called Plagg.

"Hi, sorry it's late. I'm going to the studio."

'Is everything okay, Adrien?' His mentor sounded worried on the other end of the phone line.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just need to burn off some excess energy. I'll remember to lock up when I leave."

Silence sounded through the receiver, Adrien unsure whether to head to the studio or leave it, when suddenly Plagg spoke again.

'I'll be there in 10.'