dancers who were stretching on the floor stand.
“Good morning, company,” Mr. V. says.
“Good morning, Mr. V.,” the company answers back.
“I have some exciting news. We'll of course be doing our annual two week run of The Nutcracker in December.”
This isn't his big news. This is just the introduction.
A barely audible sense of grumbling ripples through the room. We all fucking hate The Nutcracker. And we hate it because it's the only ballet most people know anything about. And we have to perform it every single year with no deviations. It doesn't rotate in and out like many other repertoire ballets. It's just always there. I don't know a single professional dancer who feels giddy about The Nutcracker.
Mr. V. ignores the response, largely because it's an involuntary reaction for the most part, and it happens every year. Then he continues.
“However, in a few weeks, we’ll start working on Firebird. We have a guest choreographer coming in with exciting new choreography I know everyone will love. The full cast list is posted beside my office door. But I would like to take a moment to announce a promotion and welcome our new principal dancer, Cassia Lane.”
There's a ringing in my ears as I try to determine if he really just said my name or if I got lost in a fantasy again. But Mr. V. is looking right at me and smiling warmly. “Cassia will be our firebird this season.”
I know my mystery blackmailer said he could elevate me. I wanted to believe it, but deep down I didn't. Now I do. The depth of his silent power here is astounding.
I could tell myself Mr. V. just saw something in me and made the decision in concert with the others at the head of the company, but Conall was paying to keep me in the corps. That means his donation was at least matched to get me here, otherwise my talent could never overcome the economics of the situation.
“I've been working privately with Cassia to get her up to speed with the rest of the principals,” Mr. V. adds. In this single statement, he's just saved my reputation—offering a neat explanation for his Monday afternoons with me in the small private studio. He's saved me from being viewed as some whore who let him between my legs for a promotion, not that anyone in the company doubts my legitimate talent.
Everyone is stunned. I hear whispers from some of the principals. The only clear sentence I can pick out among the murmurs is: “That role should be Natalie's.”
I glance over to Natalie. She looks shocked as well. I know she wanted this role. I know she expected to have this role. Only moments ago, when the new Firebird was announced, she was no doubt excited, imagining herself soaring through the air in a fiery red costume. And I can't blame her for that.
This woman has the power to ruin my life at the company. She has the power to make every day a living hell for me. She's a senior principal and the top prima ballerina here, and by right, all the best roles are hers. Every dancer here defers to her. They respect her.
Natalie moves from her place at the barre with the other principals and crosses the studio to me with purpose. There is absolute pin-drop silence. I can almost hear the sound of a slap across my face. But the expected retribution doesn't happen.
Instead, she smiles and hugs me and whispers in my ear. “You will make a beautiful firebird. You deserve this. I'm so happy for you.”
This is a severe break in ballet etiquette, but no one chastises her because every single person in this studio from the ballet master down to the newest member of the corps knows that this is important. If Natalie accepts me, they all accept me.
She takes my hand and guides me over to the set of barres where the principals stand, and room is made for me. Then everyone in the studio, previously frozen by this news and Natalie's actions, breaks out into applause. Mr. V. nods his approval at Natalie as if he had no doubt she would be classy about this.
Rehearsal starts as though nothing monumental and world changing just happened to me.
When we break for lunch, Natalie guides me back to the special set of dressing rooms reserved for the principals. There’s a large dressing room for the men and one for the women. Each dancer has a generous specific