"Alright. Go and put your pyjamas on, I 'll meet you in the bedroom in a couple of minutes."
Emilia nodded, her cheeks flushed pink, and padded naked out of the bathroom. Rebekah rolled her eyes -- did she have to leave her wet towels on the floor? -- but picked them up and hung them over the towel rack.
Rebekah dried out the shower with her own towel and hung it over the rack with Emilia 's, then brushed her teeth and headed through to the bedroom.
Emilia was sitting cross-legged in the centre of the bed wearing an old, worn tank top and soft flannel pyjama bottoms, brushing out her long, dark hair. Despite the bright midday sun outside the room was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn nearly shut against the light. Sitting there, …show more content…
She 'd eventually scrapped The Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy in favour of A Swan is Born, Clint Mansell 's darker, angrier take on Tchaikovsky 's Swan Lake. It was the complete opposite of her original choreography, which had left Mme Deschamps scrambling to help her put together a new routine in just over four weeks.
The day of the competition, Emilia had commanded attention onstage in a sequined black leotard, black platter tutu, and a tight, black mesh veil over her face. Her pointe shoes had been dyed black for the occasion, and she wore long, elegant black gloves with sharp feathers along the outside edge. The new choreography was as harsh as it was beautiful, all dramatic leaps, sharp, precise movements, and graceful, sensual transitions. She was hauntingly beautiful, ethereal under the harsh stage lights. The audience adored her.
The two hours between her performance and the adjudication were horrible. Emilia sulked around the dressing room, in the cafeteria, and in the audience with Rebekah, critiquing the other dancers under her breath and stretching and flexing her feet restlessly.
"Would you please sit still?" Rebekah’s hand landed on Emilia’s knee after half an hour of constant shifting. "You 're making me