High Pointe

High Pointe - Episode 17

Victor

I clucked my tongue in disappointment as the Cartwright girl continued to waver during her sixth pirouette. Training the two of them made it so clear that Sophia was the better dancer. She wasn't perfect, but she was getting there. Lily, on the other hand, didn't have the same dedication or talent, and it was frustrating to watch her stumble through her expensive private training. She was like a newborn deer compared to Sophia.

All legs and no grace.

Still, it was a lucrative arrangement.

"You need to push through it," I chided her, wishing I had my riding crop to swat against her wobbling knee. Wishing that was allowed in a place like this. "Find your center first, and then spin. Try again."

"I'm trying," Lily snapped, wiping sweat from her brow. "But I'm tired."

She gives me a look that I know well. It's the one that tells me she's going to ask to take a break, and then make that break last long enough that there's no real point in continuing with how little time is left in our session.

Sophia would never pull this. She'd be begging me to keep going, to keep pushing her until she got it right. I'd seen her do that very thing, to the point of risking her own safety, twice this week alone.

I closed my eyes against Lily's pleading expression, imagining Sophia instead. The way her hair twisted around the black velvet scrunchie I'd given her on her fourth day under my tutelage. The way she wore her new ballet slippers with pride and laced her pointe shoes with precision. The joy in her eyes when I'd brought her several changes of clothing at the end of the first week.

Her things, the things I'd given her over the course of the two weeks we'd worked together, were precious to her. They were all meticulously placed beneath her bed and well cared for, organized by color and purpose. Because that was the kind of person Sophia was. Organized, poised, determined.

Nothing like the spoiled child pouting in front of me.

"Why don't we call it early?" I asked, already looking away from her, my mind focused on returning home.

"Really?" Lily asked, sounding delighted. Of course she was. It was Friday, after all, and ending her lesson early meant that Lily had all that much more time to focus on her true passion - cocaine.

"Why not?" I said, trying to keep the venom out of my voice. It wouldn't do to have the girl complain to her father that I'd been rude to her and kicked her out of her session. The extra income I earned from her father wasn't the kind that you gave up for one brief moment of satisfaction.

Still, it was difficult to keep my frustration in check as she gathered her things and flounced toward the exit with more grace than she'd shown during our entire lesson. I watched her go, wondering if there was any way to push her to translate that grace into her performances or if -

She stopped suddenly, shoulders tense, and I watched as a young man approached her. I couldn't see her face, but I could tell from her body language that she wasn't pleased to see him. I took a few steps closer, just in case she needed an intimidating presence on her side. She might be hopeless as a dancer, but she was still my student and I wouldn't stand for one of my students being harassed within the walls of Précis Pointe.

"-haven't seen her," Lily was saying as I came close enough to hear the two of them. "I don't know why you think I'd know. I don't keep tabs on your little girlfriend."

"You knew each other," the young man said. Now that I was closer to him I could see the mess of dark, greasy hair that needed a good cut. The watch on his wrist was a contrast to his poor self-maintenance and obviously worth more than most kids his age could afford. Even the Cartwright girl, with her father buying her top of the line lessons, dancewear, and designer bags to carry it all in, wouldn't be sporting a Rolex like that. It told me all I needed to about this young man. He was all flash and no discipline. "You recognized her two weeks ago."