“Enough! What’s going on? That was a mess!” Tuillard shouts, slamming her hands on her hips as she glares at us all.
She’s not wrong. This whole routine is a mess, and it isn’t for lack of trying, at least not on our part. Tiffany just doesn’t want to make it work, at least not for the benefit of the rest of us. Rather than dancing as part of a troupe, she’s intent on getting all the attention and fucking up the synchronicity to do it. Even Sophie, her sidekick, seems to have had enough. All through rehearsal she’s been throwing glares Tiffany’s way when she thinks she isn’t looking. Of course, Sophie would never call her out on her bullshit directly. That’s the problem siding with a bitch like Tiffany, you turn your back on someone like that and you’re their next victim. It’s a shame, because despite the fact Sophie is clearly a sheep that lacks a spine, she is a good dancer.
Madame Tuillard shakes her head and points at Tiffany, her eyes blazing with fury. “I want a word with you.”
Tiffany rolls her eyes and strolls to the front of the class, placing her hands on her hips as she stares Tuillard down. I’ve seen Tiffany act this way towards me and anyone else she hates, but I’ve never seen her look at Madame Tuillard in the same way. She’s most definitely losing her mind.
“Is there a problem, Madame Tuillard?” she asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She manages to sneak in a glare at me and I just shake my head. For someone who badly wants to get the solo dance, she’s going about it the wrong way.
“A problem? Of course there’s a problem. You’ve spent the entire routine trying everything in your power to mess it up. You need to put your overinflated ego aside and shape up, young lady, or you will very quickly find yourself out of the show altogether.”
I catch Clancy’s eye and she pulls a face, surreptitiously crossing her fingers behind her back whilst she mouths the words we’re all thinking. “Fucking, please.”
“My overinflated ego?” Tiffany replies, her skin blanching.
“Yes. If you hadn’t noticed, this is a group dance. There is no single dancer here who owns the spotlight. This dance will only come together as Xeno and Zayn have envisioned if everyone, including you, work as a troupe.”
Tiffany huffs, folding her skinny arms across her chest. “What about her?” she asks, pointing her finger at me.
“What about Pen?” Madame Tuillard counters.
“Well she seems to get away with being centre fucking stage in every goddamn routine so far. So why the fuck can’t I?”
Madame Tuillard shakes her head, disappointment written across her face. She sighs heavily. “Am I really having to deal with jealousy here, is that it, Tiffany?”
“I am not fucking jealous!” she screams, stamping her foot like a five year old.
“Fuck me, what is she doing?” River mutters under his breath as the rest of us watch this car crash unfold. “She’s a crazy bitch, but she’s never lost it like this before.”
“I’ve seen jealousy tear careers apart. Don’t be that person,” Madame Tuillard says calmly. “You’re an exceptional dancer in your own right, but that doesn’t mean to say I will allow you to sabotage this routine just to spite someone you dislike. You must maintain professionalism at all times regardless of how you feel inside.”
“Really? If that’s the case why is Mr Tyson, a teacher at this Academy, fucking one of his students then, huh? Why have you turned a blind eye to that?” Tiffany counters.
“It’s not as if you haven’t tried to get into his pants often enough, sweetheart,” Dax interrupts with a scathing look. “Just because he turned you down multiple times and hurt your feelings, doesn’t mean to say you get to throw shade at Kid like that. So why don’t you do us all a favour, stop the tantrum bullshit, suck it the fuck up and dance!”
Tiffany snorts, scowling as she levels her stare at Dax. If looks could kill, he’d be ten feet under by now, and even though I know Tiffany is no match for him or any of my Breakers, I know a woman scorned when I see one, and that makes her unpredictable, dangerous even.
“Of course you’d stick up for her! Clearly the four of you don’t mind sharing skank-arse pussy!”
“Shut up, Tiffany!” Clancy says, shaking her head in disgust.
“Don’t you dare,” Tiffany retorts, her face all twisted up and bitter. The prominent bones of her ribcage slide beneath her too loose skin as she glares at Clancy. “You’re no better, following her around like some lovesick puppy. She’s a fucking tease. Pen will never fuck you!”
“Who’s got the popcorn?” York jokes, winking at me.
“You should calm down, Tiffany,” Xeno says with barely restrained anger. A muscle leaps in his jaw as he bites back the words he really wants to say. I think I know him well enough to know that bitch, and get the fuck out of here are just a moment away.
“Don’t tell me to calm down, Mr Tyson,” she spits, her chest heaving.
“This clearly isn’t getting us anywhere today, Tiffany. I think you should—” Madame Tuillard pauses as D-Neath enters the studio.
“What did I miss?” he asks, something flickering in his gaze as he looks between the two.
Tiffany tips her head back and laughs. “What have you missed…? Fucking everything.”
“Okay, well then…” he pulls a face, amusement and a dash of something else shading his features. He gives Madame Tuillard a smile, his gold tooth glinting in the overhead lights. She doesn’t smile back.
“Duncan, what can I do for you?” Madame Tuillard asks, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation.
“Nothing. I’m just checking in.”
“Don’t you have more important things you need to be getting on with?” she counters.
“Not tonight, no.”
“Okay, fine, back to the point in hand,” Madame Tuillard says, focussing back on Tiffany. “You will remember that at the beginning of term I said that any issues there might be between dancers is kept off the stage. Either you work with us or you don’t at all. It’s your choice.”
“You’re giving me an ultimatum?” Tiffany scoffs, pressing a bony finger into her chest.
“You aren’t giving me a choice. The only problem we appear to have right now, is you. Either you pull yourself together or we’ll replace you in the show. It’s as simple as that. What’s it to be?”
For a moment Tiffany is too shocked to retaliate, which is laughable given everything she’s done to sabotage this dance and her own career. Then she breathes in deeply, her nostrils flaring before turning her attention to me. Her expression is livid, her hate for me seeping out of every pore. “I will not dance with that bitch one fucking moment longer.”
“Then I guess you’ve made your choice because Pen is staying in the troupe. Gather your stuff and leave the studio. The rest of us have work to do,” Madame Tuillard says, folding her arms across her chest.
“Gladly!” Tiffany spits, striding over to the other side of the studio. She grabs her gym bag and motions to Sophie. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Sophie looks at her with wide eyes. “Tiffany…”
“Now!”
Sophie shakes her head. “No. I’m staying.” Her voice is quiet but firm.
Tiffany’s fingers curl tightly around the strap of her gym bag. We all watch as she leans over and whispers something into Sophie’s ear. The girl’s face pales, all the blood rushing from her skin. Whatever Tiffany’s threatened, it’s clearly spooked her.
“Hey, leave Sophie out of this. She doesn’t need to suffer because of you,” I say, stepping in. I don’t owe Sophie shit, but I won’t stand about and watch the bitch torment someone else because she refuses to step in line.
“I don’t need you to stick up for me,” Sophie says, suddenly growing a backbone. She looks back at Tiffany and says, “I’m done Tiff. This is my career, my future, and I won’t throw it away because of you.”
“You think they’ll accept you now?” Tiffany laughs, jerking backwards.
“I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to dance. That’s what I should’ve been doing all along,” Sophie mutters back, but Tiffany is no longer interested in what she has to say.
“And you!” she snaps, rounding on me.
“Yes?” Zayn moves to stand in front of me as she approaches, but I step out from behind him and rest my hand against his arm. “Let her say what she needs to say.”
“That’s it, move aside like a good little boy. She’s got you all trained so fucking well, hasn’t she?” Tiffany snarls before leaning in and whispering in my ear. “This isn’t over.”
I just laugh, stepping back. “Yes, it is. Get out of here, Tiffany.”
Shoving past me, Tiffany strides across the room stopping in front of Madame Tuillard. “I was offered a spot at the Royal Academy of Dance yesterday. I was going to stay here and help this shithole of an Academy get the good press it so desperately needs, but do you know what? I really don’t give a fuck anymore. You can shove your scholarship up your old, frigid arse.”
If Madame Tuillard is upset by her words, she doesn’t show it, instead she’s resolute. “Goodbye Tiffany. I wish you well.”
River’s mouth drops open in shock. “Did you know?” he asks Clancy.
“About the Royal Academy? No clue. We’re not exactly close. Fuck, I hate being related to that bitch.”
“Imagine choosing her as a friend, probably not the wisest move of the century,” Zayn comments, sliding his gaze to Sophie who’s currently staring off into the distance looking like she’s about to throw up.
Madame Tuillard huffs out a breath, then plasters on a smile. “Right then, shall we start from the top?” Her gaze falls on me and she gives me a nod. It’s a simple gesture, one of solidarity. I dip my head, silently thanking her because, unlike Tiffany, I won’t turn my back on the woman who gave me an opportunity to fulfil my dreams.
“Actually, I think we should pick this up again in our next rehearsal session. Start fresh then,” Xeno suggests.
“Yes, fine,” Madame Tuillard concedes without argument. “We need to find another dancer to replace Tiffany anyway. I’ll have a think about who would be most suitable, and let you know tomorrow.”
“It’s not your fault,” D-Neath says. “You couldn’t have dealt with that situation any better mi cielo. Don’t beat yourself up. Tiffany was a fucking pain in the arse. Much better this way.” He reaches for her, but she steps away from his touch, folding her arms across her chest in a defensive gesture.
“That’s not helpful, Duncan,” Madame Tuillard snaps, her professional mask slipping momentarily. “I’ve just lost a very talented student. It’s a blow to the Academy. You may not seem to appreciate that, but I do. This show, the Academy, is important to me as you well know.”
“Oh, come on, she might’ve been talented but let’s get real, no one liked her. She was a stuck-up bitch. It’s a fucking relief to be rid of her, am I right?” D-Neath asks, turning his attention back to the rest of us, and even though he is right, not one of us agrees with him. Instead, we all gather our things and leave.
