1

Tory was the first person to arrive at the studio. She dropped her bags at the door and listened to the echoes of her steps in the empty building. She paused in front of a mirror, and the girl in the mirror glared back at her; the wasted frame slouched in leggings and a large white shirt, the lanky shopped brown tresses, and the sullen dark eyes all seemed to blend with the dingy surrounding, but Tory knew that the mirror lied.

I look the same...why am I still the same? I must stick out like a chalk outline.

Tory pulled a rubber band out of her shirt pocket and began smoothing her hair into a low ponytail...then sank to her knees, head drooping, her hands scraping the rough carpet. A pebble dug into her left palm.

Why bother? It doesn’t matter if I look the same. Playing Sir Gunther for the scene today will give me away in a heartbeat. And no matter what I do, Nell won’t think I’m any prettier.

There was a small click as the door closed, but Tory jumped as if it were a shot. A group of girls entered, chattering excitedly, and the sound activated lights flickered on, bathing Tory in light. She started to cover her face, then realized how futile it would be, and instead picked the pebble out of her palm.

The girls wandered past, and a chorus of “Hi, Tory’s” and smiles swirled around Tory. She waved back, but today she couldn’t force herself to smile. The studio began filling with people, colors pouring in through the door with the grey light of dawn, stretching, singing scales, reciting, leaping, changing, and talking about the trip they were to leave for that morning. Tory’s eyes flickered around the room as she tried to avoid looking at anyone. She had an itch behind her right ear but didn’t dare scratch. She was afraid any movement would attract the gazes of the other students.

Someone might notice. Someone will notice. Tory, you can’t hide it, you know. The signs are all there. Someone always finds out about these things.

“Here,” a low voice murmured in her ear. “Let me put this on you.”

Tory felt a tugging at her ponytail, and turned her head slightly to see the tiny red bow Trevor had tied in her hair reflected in the mirror. Trevor smiled winningly, and she forced herself not to flinch. “Um, thanks Trevor, but don’t you think it’s a bit fem?”

For the character! Say for the character!

Tory blinked, and finished quickly. “I mean, since I’m playing Sir Gunther in the scene today.”

“It’s flattering. Dressing like a chick would really suit you.”

A loud crack split across Trevor’s face as Tory slapped him with red force. She whirled and stalked to the breakfast table, hoping her angry demeanor would disguise the panic that had risen with Trevor’s words.

“Hey hey, Tory’s in the house!”

She glared again, dark grey eyes storming over. “Jennifer...”

“Hey, sorry.” Jennifer’s blue eyes danced with as much emotion behind her glasses as her body could on stage. She snapped her hair tie around the end of her braid and proceeded to stretch one leg up to her shoulder. “Excited about the trip?”

Tory carefully avoided looking straight and Jennifer’s eyes or leg. “I suppose. I don’t really like the cold, though.”

“Oh, I’m thrilled!” Jennifer switched legs, and irritably pulled her braid back over her shoulder. “One month of dancing my heart out and mountain cabin life! Oh, shoot, this braid isn’t working. Pin me up, okay?”

Tory began winding Jennifer’s ebony braid into a bun and pulled the ribbon out of her hair. She threaded it through the bun and tied it under the hair tie at the crown of her head. A song came on the radio-Melissa Etheridge’s “Dance Without Sleeping”-and she jumped.

“Ow! Not so tight!”

“Sorry, Jennifer.”

“Tory? Can I talk to you really quick?”

Tory jerked back again in surprise, causing Jennifer to gasp with pain as her hair was pulled again. She didn’t turn-the strawberry blonde curls and blue green eyes of Nell Manala would reduce her to uncontrollable shaking. “Yeah?”

Voice steady, don’t say anything that could be misinterpreted, and don’t give anything away!

Nell’s quiet, smooth voice quavered nervously. Tory suppressed a shiver as she wondered briefly if the girl was twirling her hair around her pinky in that way that made Tory’s eyes tingle. “It’s about the scene in class today.”

Tory’s hands clenched and Jennifer cried out again.

A light scraping told her that Nell was swinging her slipper-shoed foot along the ground, and Tory felt another shiver creep up her spine. “See, could we try something different? I like the Silver Dragon sketch and all, but we could do Saturday Night Pajama Party just as easily, and well...” Nell’s voice dropped a bit. “To be honest, I’m a bit uncomfortable doing a love scene when there aren’t any guys in the sketch.” Her voice rose again, faster this time. “I mean, you’re a great actress, and I know you’d be very professional and everything, I’m sure, but I just wouldn’t be able to...especially during the kissing scene. I’m not...I’m not professional enough. Anyway...let’s do Saturday Night instead, please?”

Tory nodded, hands shaking. Nell’s voice sounded relieved. “Great! See you then!”

“Tory?” Jennifer hissed angrily. “Let go of my hair, you’re hurting me!”

Tory let go, and walked briskly away, purposefully looking bored.

Don’t feel let down, Tory. Besides, no one will guess now. Nell hasn’t yet. So innocent...letting her emotions dictate the stage. She’s so naive, and sweet, and utterly beautiful...why her? Why now? Everyone will find out!

Tory walked past the mirror again, heading towards the costume bin. She glanced at her reflection again. the simply clothed girl looked just like the others, but Tory knew the mirror lied.

2

“Firebird Suite” played from the stereo speakers, flutes and violins trembling out nearly silent notes. Jennifer rose slowly onto her toes amidst a swirl of gauze and lace, twirling gracefully and leaning back into the arms of the other dancers, who lifted her above their heads almost like an offering to God. Jasmine tapped Tory's shoulder. “That part took her 2 weeks to do right. She kept missing the other dancers.”

Jasmine’s oriental features were so very different from Jennifer’s nearly Arabic looks that few knew they were cousins. Tory nodded absently, still watching the dance practice as the girls whirled into he next move, trying to keep her eyes on her friends and not to the side where another group of girls sat.

Don’t look. Don’t even look if she starts screaming! A look can be taken so many ways, and someone will notice. Besides...I’m not pretty enough.

A flash of red gold caught her eyes, and Tory watched as nell unconsciously ran a hand through her hair. Her hands trembled and her chest tightened like before a big performance.

Then again, this is a performance. A grand farce. And I’m blowing it by staring!

She turned back to the practice.

The song skipped, and abruptly changed to “Raspberry Swirl.” Jennifer and the dancers fell to the ground, slammed their fists to the floor, rolled angrily to the left and curled back up into standing. Tory thought about the mirror, then took out the band in her hair, letting her ponytail down. For some reason, she felt like she stood out less than when it was in, it seemed. Yet she still felt like she was bathed in an enormous neon sigh, lights flashing twice a red proclamation, “Free pain here!”

Even if they don’t know yet, they’ll figure it out on the trip. And Trevor will be the first in line for whatever they do to me afterwards.

Tory shivered at the memory of her one date with Trevor, and forced herself to think of something else. Another, unbidden fantasy took its place.

Nell peered over the ice cream soda into Tory’s face. “Tory, how did you guess strawberry was my favorite?”

“I guessed, totally. It matches you...sweet, unique, pretty, and absolutely perfect.”

“Oh, Tory, that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me!” Nell licked her lips and leaned forward, smiling. “You know, strawberry ice cream is also delicious...care to taste?”

Tory leaned forward, brushing her lips over that beautiful red blonde hair...

“Tory!”

Jasmine leaned back over the chair and nudged Tory gently. Her hands barely brushed over her ribs and chest, but Tory started back all the same, hoping to hide her reactions to her daydream.

“Whoa, Tory, are you okay?” Jasmine asked, concerned.

Tory kept her eyes trained to a point just past her friend’s head. No, Jasmine. I’m very sick. In my head, in my heart, wherever it is...I’m very, very sick. I’m in love with another girl. I am very much not “okay.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “I’m just sore from yesterday. I think Trevor got an elbow in me or something.” She gestured to a spot just to the side of one breast and above her ribs. “I’ve got a bruise the size of my fi-of my hand right there.”

“Oh!’ Jasmine covered her mouth, horrified. “I didn’t poke you there, did I?”

“Just a little. It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” It’s not as if you did more damaged that I did to myself, she thought, remembering exactly how she’d given herself that bruise last night...and several others besides.

And I should watch what I say more. Or less. Tory, what’s wrong with saying the bruise is as big as your fist? Only you know what it means...

The dance teacher finally signaled for the dancers to freeze, and cut the music. “All right, everyone, go cool down. We’ll be leaving in about an hour for the retreat.”

There were cheers as all the girls dropped to the floor and began stretching out their muscles with mocking groans of pain. Jasmine stood. “If that’s the case, I should go make sure my violin’s detuned. I don’t want the strings to snap in the cold.”

Tory waved absently, watching Nell and her friends rise to their feet and head off in their own directions.

Jennifer grinned at her, waved, and continued chattering with her friends. Tory waved back, once again unable to smile, and stared at the ceiling.

At least I’m already supposed to be touchy and overly dramatic. Maybe no one has noticed yet...

Yeah, right. And turtles can sing.

As they stretched the soreness from their legs, the dancers began to exit in their own little groups. Jennifer headed off with three of her friends: a small, smart blonde named Catherine, a Musical Theater student with aspirations to Bob Fosse named April, and a pert little redheaded ballet dancer that everyone just called Ruby. The four of them left earlier than the rest, but it didn’t take long for the others to finish up and head upstairs as well, in groups of two, three, four, or even six. Soon, Tory was the only one left in the room, the lights too bright where they shone onto the grey carpet and chipped hardwood, the shadows too dark where they lurked at the edges of the light.

Only then did she pull her knees up to her chest and start shaking.

I don’t want to go. I’ll be in a cabin with Jennifer, Jasmine, and Elizabeth, sure, but it’ll still be a whole month up there with no escape. More than that...anywhere from one to four months, depending on how well we do. One to four months with no escape, one to four months hiding from everyone, keeping everything from everyone...one to four months right next to Nell. God, I want that...I don’t want Thos. do, though...but I can’t!

Tory closed her eyes and made herself stop shivering. It didn’t take long. She’d been working for too long and too hard at training herself to change characters at a moment’s notice to fail at something as simple as acting nonchalant.

It never stopped her thoughts though. Or the dreams.

And I have no right. Nelson. I have no right. And not here, not now. Not here. Trevor’s new flamed don’t dare.

Besides, I’m not pretty enough. I’m not talented enough. I’m not good enough at anything. She’s....not perfect, but she’s everything.

I'm just not pretty enough.

“Tory?”

Tory unfolded herself and stood as the voice teacher made his way down the stairs. A moment later, he place his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Are you all right?”

Tory had a feeling he’d known even before she had, but she smiled anyway. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?”

Brian Little looked at her carefully, and wondered if he really did see the flicker of fear behind her eyes. “I just wondered. You haven’t been talking about the retreat like everyone else has. Are you nervous?”

“Yeah, right!” Tory laughed, hoping it sounded as natural as usual. “I can’t wait to get away from my brother and his friends for a while. You think I might have a shot at sticking around for the full program?”

“You’ve been working hard, and you’ve come a long way just this year. Over the last few, you’ve probably become the best student we’ve got here. There’s no way you won’t stay the full four months.”

“Great,” Tory said, turning the dejection she really felt into cheer. “That should be fun.”

“It should. You’ll be in a cabin with Jennifer, Nell, and Jasmine, by the way.”

“Gre-” Tory stopped, and stepped back, voice flat. “What?”

The voice teacher raised an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”

Yes! Tory wanted to scream. Instead, she held her panic in check. “I thought Jennifer, Jazz, and Elizabeth were my cabin mates.”

“Elizabeth is sick. She won’t be up until later. She’ll be put in one of the spots vacated by the students who don’t stay the whole four months.”

Tory set her jaw, and her voice was firm. “I changed my mind about assignments. I want a single.”

“It’s a bit late for that now, Tory. The arrangements are already made.” Mr. Little leaned forward. “Do you object to the room assignments?”

Tory wanted to scream. She wanted to say that she was allergic to redheads, that Nell was a bitch who hated her, that Jennifer had to sleep with Elizabeth there because she had to have a stranger in her room every night, that last minute changes gave her hives, that her parents objected to her sleeping in a cabin with another drama major, anything. She wanted to tell him everything, to pull out of the trip, to do something to stop this from happening. She wanted to go back in time and never come to this school.

But then I never would have met Nell.

It didn’t matter, or Tory told herself it didn’t. She was going to tell the teacher that she was not sharing a room with Nell Manala, an that was that.

“No sir,” she said calmly. “There’s no problem at all.”

Next chapter: http://www.oocities.org/empressstarsearcher/romance/reflection2.html