Dancing for the Lord The Academy - By Emily Goodman Page 0,11

sounds like fun.” Danni grinned. “I’ve been in The Nutcracker for the last five years, with the company back home.”

“Wow.” Madalyn’s eyes were wide, awed. “I never danced in a real ballet before I came here. Just recital stuff, you know? And I’ve never done any partner work—but that doesn’t happen until senior year anyway, not unless you’re really good at it.”

If I had Michael here, I’d be in partners classes. Danni thought it; but she didn’t want to say it to this bubbling girl. “Seems a shame,” she said instead, slowly. “I think we ought to be able to dance with a partner at least a little bit.”

“Oh, well.” Madalyn shrugged. “There aren’t enough guys to go around, you know—never are. It’s just more fair this way.”

“Right,” Danni agreed quickly. “And hey, next year, right?” Next year…when I have Michael here, and we can really show them what we can do.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Well, Danni-girl, I think that’s the last of it.” Her father set down the last box very carefully. He had carried them up slowly, she’d noticed—far more slowly than he really had to. He was stalling, prolonging the inevitable moment when he would have to say goodbye.

He couldn’t stall anymore.

She carefully placed the last of the books she was holding in the shelves, pleased to note that she had filled them up just enough without overcrowding them. She even had a little shelf for her schoolbooks, once she had them—because classes at the Academy ran like college classes, with one set on Mondays and Wednesdays and a whole different set on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

There were no academic classes on Fridays. Those, Danni had learned, were reserved entirely for dance…unless there was a reason for a special academic class.

She was determined not to let there be a reason, not unless it was simply that she needed an extra slot in order to finish things up fast enough.

“Well.” Her father dusted his hands on his jeans. “Who’s your friend? Are you going to introduce me?”

Stalling. Danni appreciated it. She smiled. “This is Madalyn.”

Madalyn bounded into the room, holding out her hand; Mr. Wilkerson shook it warmly. “It’s nice to meet you, sir,” she told him.

“It’s nice to meet you, as well.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Madalyn seemed to take it as a hint. “Well, I’ll just, um….” She shrugged, then bounded through the bathroom and the connecting door. Before either of the Wilkersons could gather themselves to acknowledge her, she was gone again.

Neither of them wanted to look at the other—to admit that this was it, the inevitable parting that they had, in a sense, been preparing for all day.

Danni didn’t want her father to leave. This last goodbye was harder than all the others put together—the last member of her family finally disappearing. “You could stay for dinner,” she suggested desperately.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, sweetheart.” Her father cleared his throat again, doing his best to be done with the lump so that she wouldn’t hear the huskiness in his voice as he spoke. “You need to start settling in here; and you won’t be able to do that with me hanging around all afternoon.”

“Yeah, but—“ she began.

“Danni.” He tipped her chin up so that she could look him in the eye. “Don’t worry, honey. Christmas will be here before you know it, and you can come home for a couple of days then.”

“The Christmas production,” she began.

“Doesn’t run over Christmas proper. I already checked.” He brushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear, smiling sadly. “Though you’ve only got a couple of days. I guess you won’t want to spend them all in the car, will you?” The words were sad.

“It’s not going to be an easy couple of years, Dad,” she reminded him softly. “We knew that when we started.”

“I know.” He bowed his head for a moment. “Doesn’t make it any easier to let you go.”

“I want this.” She was saying it as much to remind herself as she was to remind him.

“And we want it for you.” Still, he didn’t look at her, and Danni wondered if that side-turned face was hiding tears.

“Summer. Summer will be here in no time.” She swallowed hard. “And you know Mom will drag you up here for the first parents’ weekend on the schedule.”

“Right.” Her father’s voice was gruff; he was trying not to show any more emotion, particularly distress. “And you’ll…you’ll be….” He couldn’t keep up the charade. His voice faltered. “Take