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demigodsanswer · 10 months ago

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Chapter 10/13 Tarantella

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This chapter flashes back and forward between the present day and Percy's first year dancing. CONTENT WARNING: these scenes include Gabe, meaning there are moments of physical violence as well as verbal abuse, including some homophobia, and the use of "queer" as a slur. Moments in the past are marked by ~~, scenes with physical abuse start with ~*~. Scenes in the present day start with ~ I've kept necessary plot information out of scenes with abuse, so you can skip them if you need to and not miss story beats.

The cold New York air seeped through the brick walls of the old YMCA gym. The barres were already set up when he walked in, his gym shorts on, and his pink hand-me-down ballet slippers in an old orange drawstring bag from his summer camp[. He sat down on the outside of a group of girls who were changing their shoes. In his first class three days ago, Percy had noticed he was the only boy there. He tried not to let that bother him. It was either try ballet or go home to Gabe.

Miss Hestia was already in the room. She was a young, pretty woman with dark hair and a constant smile on her face. She let them all pick what ballet music they wanted to use for class. The girls all voted on some Disney soundtrack music, and she popped the CD into the player.

He hadn’t really tried last class. At least, not at first. He didn’t know what a “ton do” or “pleeyay” was, and he didn’t put in much of an effort into following the teacher. But Miss Hestia seemed to notice him falling behind. Percy braced himself to be singled out the way he usually was when teachers saw him struggling. Some were well-meaning, some were just mean.

But Miss Hestia simply slowed down the class. She gave more careful instructions to the group, reminding them all to turn out from their hips, and explaining what the funny French words meant in English.

“Plié means ‘bent,’ so, when we plié, we keep our back straight, that tailbone goes right down towards the floor, and then we bend our knees. We want those knees going out to the side, tracking over our feet and ankles” she started to bend to show them, “and keep those heels on the ground as long as you can. Okay! Let’s try!”

She had them do four pliés in first position, which Percy had figured out meant his heels together, his feet pointing in opposite directions.

“Great work, Percy,” she said, coming over to him. “Try to keep that arm up a little more.” she tapped the underside of his elbow. “Can you feel your arm working?” Percy couldn’t exactly, but he tried to focus his thoughts on his arm, he kept his elbow up, and actually tried to hold his arm steady. And then, yeah, he felt it a little. Percy nodded to her. “Great! We always want our arms working. It helps you balance. And strong arms will be important when you start working with partners.”

Percy didn’t have the heart to tell her that he’d probably never work with a partner, and that he was just there until the basketball coach forgot that he’d hit another player in the face last week.

When they paused to stretch, Miss Hestia pulled him aside as the girls put their legs up on the barre. “Here,” she said, pulling out a bucket of old shoes , “let's try to find a pair that fits.” They were all pink, but it wasn’t everyday a teacher tried to actually help him, so Percy swallowed his pride. He gave her his shoe size, and after a little digging, she found a pair that might work.

“They might be a little big,” she said, “but you’re probably still growing.” Percy nodded. At least, he hoped he was still growing. Most girls in his classes at school were still taller than him.

And most of the girls in his ballet class were also taller than him. Everyone was between ten and twelve, but most of the girls had been dancing for a little while, it seemed. They had no issue keeping up with the combinations the way Percy did.

Now, as he took his spot at barre in his second ever ballet class, Percy decided he was actually going to try this time, to really try and follow along. He got the pliés down, and even the first tendu combination.

“ Tendu means ‘to stretch,’ so we really want to stretch that foot as we point. Push those toes into the floor until your foot is all the way out in front of you, then point as hard as you can,” Miss Hestia said. Percy followed the instructions. Miss Hestia smiled as she watched him. “Really nice, Percy. You’ve got a good turn out. Keep leading with the heel,” she said. Percy actually smiled. Teachers, not even coaches really, ever told him he was doing something right. To be fair to the teachers, he usually was doing it all wrong, but maybe he could do a tendu.

The next combination was from fifth. Percy had practiced his positions in the few days between classes. He’d even gone to the library and checked out some old book with illustrations on how to do them. He knew fifth. He crossed his feet. His left hand was on the barre, so he knew that meant his right foot was in front.

“We’re going to do tendu to plié ,” Miss Hestia danced the combination as she gave it, and Percy followed, trying to remember it. “ Tendu to straight legs, and then pas de cheval,” her lower leg made some kind of circle before pointing out in front of her, “ en croix, which means ‘in the shape of a cross.’ So we’re going to do it to the front, to the side, to the back, and then to the side again. When you go out to the side, make sure you change sides. Plié to the back, come in straight to the front, then pas de cheval comes in to the back, so then you’re ready to start back.”

“What’s pada chaval?” Percy whispered to the girl in front of him. She had long dark hair and pale skin. She’d said “hi” to him when he walked in, and even spoke to him a little before class. He remembered her name, Bianca. He was pretty sure she was nice.

She turned to try and show him, but she still moved a little too quickly for Percy’s brain to fully grasp what was supposed to do.

“Nice work Bianca!” Miss Hestia said. “Can you show everyone how to do the pas de cheval?”

Bianca did it again. Miss Hestia clapped, and everyone joined in for a brief applause.

“Yes, great work. Pas de cheval means ‘step of the horse,’ because horses go like this,” Miss Hestia dragged her foot on the floor the way Percy had seen police horses and Central Park carriage horses do. “You pull your foot up to your ankle, we call this coupé, then we bring it out in front of us and present the foot. Everyone try that,” she said.

Percy did, and Miss Hestia smiled and nodded at him. “Great work everyone. Now, sometimes, pas de cheval goes right to the floor,” she did it again, resting her toes on the floor, “ and sometimes, it stays off the floor,” she moved her leg again, hovering her foot in the air. “We are going to do it on the floor, but don’t use it as a kickstand. No weight on those front toes, keep all the work on your standing side. Are we ready?”

Percy nodded, fixed his fifth position, held out his arm, really focusing on keeping it steady and in the right spot, and started on cue. Front, side, back, side. When he was finished, felt like he’d done a pretty good job.

Percy had traveled for ballet plenty of times. He’d done some tours with NYCB, not counting their brief summer season upstate, and he’d gigged at a few different regional ballets around the country to make some extra money on breaks. But he’d never left for a month with another company.

Annabeth, for her part, was trying to be supportive. She’d made a list of everything he’d need to pack, and had even asked Jason at lunch the other day about Miami weather and what Percy could expect from the company.

“Lupa is great,” he said, “she really tries to establish loyalty and trust with her dancers.”

“Well then, I have to ask, what made you leave?” Percy asked.

Jason shrugged. “I needed a change. I’d been training with them and dancing with them since I was a child. I wanted something different.”

He felt Annabeth grab his hand under the table. “Well, thankfully there’s no getting tired of New York,” Percy said.

Now, she was sitting on his bed the night before his flight, folding dance clothes, a few more formal options, and some casual street-wear.

“Any idea what she’ll have you dancing?” Annabeth asked.

Percy smiled. “Yeah, she emailed me today. She hasn’t paired me with anyone yet, but she’s thinking Tarantella and Slaughter on Tenth Ave.” Lupa had sent him some recordings to study. There wasn’t much time for him to learn choreography before he’d take to the stage. But he was pretty sure he’d watched the old video of Patricia McBride and Edward Villela dancing Tarantella so many times in his life that he’d already memorized it.

Percy had nearly jumped out of his seat when he saw Tarantella as an option. Chiron hadn’t put that in a season in years , and it was one of the only ballets Percy truly, desperately wanted to dance enough that he’d asked Chrion about it. Chiron had only shrugged and said “maybe next year.” Slaughter was another fun one. It was a heels ballet, so no point shoes for the ladies, but a Balanchine classic. They were both huge leaps away from Sleeping Beauty and Agon.

“Chiron tried to rehearse me in Tarantella when I was eighteen,” Annabeth said, grimacing, “I was not cast.”

“You didn’t like it?” Percy asked.

“I couldn’t do it. I looked horrible,” she said, dropping a pair of shorts into his suitcase. “It was for the best anyway. I was still in the corps, so anytime I got a lead or solo role, other corps and soloist girls … well, they looked about ready to rip my head off.”

Percy looked at her sympathetically, before shifting the mood. “It must be so hard being one of the best dancers in the world,” he teased, tucking some hair behind her ear.

She put on an exaggerated, dramatic pout. “You have no idea,” she said, before Percy leaned down to kiss her again.

“I’m sorry the timing of this visit is so …” horrible, awful, inconvenient, he started after breaking the kiss.

Annabeth just shrugged, trying to look chill and not at all disappointed about it. “What’s one more month?” She asked. “Just, promise me you won’t hook up with any hot Miami girls while you’re there?”

“As long as you don’t hook up with any hot New Yorkers,” he said.

Annabeth nodded. “And you’ll forgive me if I don’t send you any nudes to keep you company while you’re away?” Her tone was light, and it made Percy happy to see her able to joke about it, even a little.

“Of course,” he said, before kissing her again. They hadn’t discussed it, but it seemed implicit between them both that they weren’t going to label whatever they were or even just sleep together until Percy got back. But they kept creeping up to that line. His hand slipped under her tee shirt, finding the warm skin of her side, as she pulled him on the bed by his hair. As Percy’s hand crept up higher, he started to think maybe they would cross it. Sure, what was one more month, but why wait?

“Percy, Annabeth, dinner is ready!” Sally yelled from down the hall.

They nearly jumped apart, as if they’d been caught. Right, Percy thought, that was why.

Annabeth was laughing when Percy rolled off of her.

“I feel like a teenager again,” Percy complained.

Annabeth was smiling wide, her cheeks flush from the kiss. “I don’t,” she said. Percy rolled over and kissed her again.

Miss Hestia had given him one of her CDs. They were piano melodies from The Nutcracker, and on the inside, she’d left a note for which tracks would be best for what kinds of combinations. On days he didn’t have ballet, Percy came home, enjoyed the two hours he usually had before Gabe arrived, and used the back on the couch as the barre.

Hold up your arm, tailbone straight to the floor, lead with your heel, he reminded himself. Turn out from the thighs, keep your ribs in, and don’t forget to breathe. There was a lot to remember to even just stand the right way in ballet, but it gave his brain enough to keep him occupied.

In school, he found himself improving his posture in class. He worked to keep his shoulders down, ribs in, tailbone tucked even as he sat. As he practice tendu ’s under the desk, he found himself actually listening to his teachers, the way he always listened to Miss Hestia. His history class actually started to get pretty interesting.

When he was done practicing, he cleared out any evidence of ballet from the living room, tucking the CD and shoes under his mattress where Gabe couldn’t find them and ruin them. And then he actually opened his book and tried to do his homework.

He’d only been dancing for about a month, but he carried the counts around with him in his head. When his textbooks got too boring, he stood up and practiced his petite allegro -- small and fast, he remembered. It was his second favorite part, right behind grande allegro -- big and fast. Those were the big jumps where they really got to travel across the floor. He didn’t do that at home, worried about the downstairs neighbors, but he figured a glissade wouldn’t annoy anyone.

Miss Hestia was really impressed with his progress. She told him that he was already caught up to most of the other girls. Every class he felt like he left with something new to work on -- some new step to practice or something in his technique to improve. But he didn’t feel like a failure, the way he did when he got an F or a D. He felt excited to go home and work on it.

On his way out after class that Monday, the basketball coach spotted him. “Percy, will you be joining us in the Spring?” he asked.

Percy shook his head. “I’m busy,” he told him.

Jason warned Percy that Miami was going to be hot, even in March, but Percy wasn’t quite prepared for it anyway. He stripped off his jacket and sweatshirt before he even stepped out of the airport. He felt the hot, humid gust of wind blow in through the sliding doors at baggage claim, and started sweating right then.

Lupa had sent another dancer to pick him up, some guy named Frank. Percy Googled him while he was waiting for his bag. Another soloist, in a few Facebook photos with Jason, and a handful of other people recognized.

His friend Rachel from SAB was still in the company. He hadn’t messaged her when he heard from Lupa, not sure if she remembered him or cared to talk to him since he’d stayed in New York. She was a principal now, though, and when Percy saw the news of her promotion two years ago, he couldn’t stop the jealous feeling that maybe that’d’ve been him too, if he’d gone with Miami instead.

Frank was easy enough to talk to, and he didn’t hesitate to share some insider knowledge with Percy. “I’d guess she’s gonna see how you dance with Rachel, Reyna, and Gwen,” he said, “Jason danced with them a lot.”

“And be honest, do you think I’m here so Lupa can get her revenge on Chiron for Jason?” Percy asked.

“Honestly,” he said, pausing, carefully considering his next words, “no. I mean, Jason going to New York might have given her the idea, but she’s not spiteful like that. But Lupa does always get what she wants.” Percy didn’t ask what he meant by that.

Percy was hastily shoving his CD and shoes under his mattress when the door opened and Gabe yelled, “Hey brainiac! Get out here, the school called.”

Percy felt his heart rate go up, and a familiar anger bubble to the surface. He had no idea what they could have called about. He hadn’t been in any fights. He hadn’t even dozed off in class.

“What?” Percy asked, stepping out of his room.

“Your history teacher called, said you cheated on her test,” Gabe said. No matter how much Sally and Percy told the school to call her, they always seemed to reach Gabe first.

“I didn’t!” Percy said. He hadn’t. He’d just paid attention in class and studied a little last night. The test was on World War I. It was actually pretty interesting once he got into it.

“She said you got a B. You’ve never done that well before,” Gabe said.

“What kind of idiot cheats only to get a B?” Percy asked. It wasn’t like he’d never cheated, but whenever he did, he was clever enough to at least get an A-.

“You, idiot.”

“I didn’t --!” Percy yelled, but Gabe grabbed his arm hard.

“You want to keep taking your little dance classes? Then I’d better stop getting calls from the school in the middle of my day.” Gabe let him go without much more of a fight. Percy just sent himself to his room and laid on the bed, too dejected to dance or study, or do much more than just lay there, wishing he was somewhere else.

When his mom got home hours later, smelling like the candy store, she let herself into his room with a quiet knock. “Percy, can you tell me what happened?”

Percy sat up. “I didn’t cheat!” He said. “I studied. I actually studied. And I tried really, really hard,” he ran over to his backpack and showed her his notebook. His handwriting was awful, and his spelling was worse, but there were notes from his textbook and from the teacher’s lesson. “See! I tried.”

Sally looked at him, her brown eyes wide and sorry for him. She rested a hand on his cheek. I believe you,” she said. “I’m proud of you for working so hard. I’ll call the school tomorrow and try to meet with your teacher,” she promised.

Sally did, and the teacher finally agreed to give Percy the B that he earned. But she never seemed to ever really trust Percy, and whatever interest he’d developed in her history lessons disappeared. His B slipped to a C, before just hanging out at a D for the rest of the year.

Miami’s studios had high ceilings and wide open windows that let the natural sunlight pour in. It kept the space warm, but Percy kept on his layers of warmups for class, not wanting to risk hurting himself on his first day in a new place. He let himself sweat, enjoying the natural heat and sunlight that he hadn’t gotten in New York in months.

He looked around class, scanning for familiar faces, but the class was so huge, he was only able to find Frank (who had kindly stayed next to him at barre), and Reyna. She was a little older than Annabth, and she was another ballet phenomenon. He’d never met her personally, but she seemed to get as much attention as a rising star to watch as Annabeth did. She, like Annabeth, had become a principal in her early twenties. She seemed to be pulling Jason up through the ranks with her with every dance they did together, only for Jason to leave abruptly for New York. With her long graceful lines and carefully concentrated face, Percy could see the intense resemblance to Annabeth already.

After class, a few people lingered to introduce themselves to Percy. Percy had met the ballet masters before class, and had already met with Lupa earlier in the morning. Now it was time to meet with the company.

Reyna walked over first, introducing herself. Percy shook her hand.

“And how’s our Jason?” She asked.

Percy gave an honest report that he was doing well, and seemed to be enjoying New York. She almost seemed annoyed to hear it.

Percy’s gaze fell on the younger man standing a few steps behind her. There was something about him that seemed eerily familiar, but he couldn’t place it. The man had a haunted look to him already, with his pale skin, but dark brown eyes and hair that both looked black. Something in Percy’s mind itched, trying to remember where he’d seen him before.

“Do I know you?” Percy asked.

“Do you?” The man asked back, smirking as if you say you do, but you’ll need to figure it out.

“The cryptic one is my brother,” a voice said. Percy turned and saw Hazel Levesque. Percy politely didn’t ask are you sure about that?

“I do know you,” he said.

“Nice to see you again, Percy,” she said, leaning in for a hug, which Percy accepted.

“You too.”

They met last winter in New York. She had been on tour with Alvin Ailey, doing Revelations across the country. Beckendorf had been on the same tour. When the show finally rolled through New York, Percy went to see it. It was nice to actually just sit and watch a ballet for once. Hazel stood out, not least of all because, despite being a bit short, she stood tall, with long arms and legs. During “Wade in the Water,” the dance where Becknedorf was the male lead, she was the dancer holding up the umbrella. It made her easy to spot.

Percy remembered her asking a lot of questions about life in New York, and he was able to figure out that she was thinking about joining Alvin Ailey permanently. But when the tour was over, she headed back to Miami and stayed. And, he remembered, got promoted. She’d made ballet news as Miami’s youngest ever principal at twenty-two (beating out Reyna’s record by a few months) and their youngest ever and their first Black lead in Swan Lake soon after.

“Percy Jackson!” A loud voice yelled from across the room. Percy turned and found the mess of red hair he’d been looking for all class.

“Rachel!” She ran towards him, pulling him into a tight hug. ”I was looking for you in class,” he said.

“I had PT then a pointe shoe emergency,” she explained. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Rachel told us you abandoned her,” Reyna said.

“That’s not what I said --” Rachel said back, her freckled face flushing. “I said he got an apprenticeship and I didn’t, so he stayed in New York. Nico talks about Percy way more than I do.”

“Hey!” The spooky one complained. Nico, Percy thought. Do I know a Nico ?

“He and his sister used to dance with you,” Rachel said, only further embarrassing Nico.

“Your sister?” Percy asked, still trying to place him. He looked at Hazel, 100% sure he’d never danced with her before.

“I’m his half sister,” she gestured to herself and laughed, “obviously. His full sister runs the pointe shoe room,” Hazel said. “Bianca,” she added, hoping that name jogged something in his memory.

“Bianca?” Percy said. “From New York?” He looked at Nico, and finally saw the nine-year-old who’d followed him around for months and months. “You’re Bianca’s little brother?” Percy tried to square the memory of the loud, geeky kid who followed him around the YMCA with this Jack Skellington-type, but mostly his mind raced with excitement to see Bianca again.

Nico nodded. “And she bet you wouldn’t remember her.”

Percy turned to Frank and asked, “Where’s your pointe shoe room?”

Hazel and Frank walked him down. The pointe shoe room was similar to the one in New York. It resembled a mail room, except the only mail were brand new pairs of shoes still in plastic. Men got their slippers supplied as well, but they lasted so much longer than pointe shoes that Percy rarely had reason to go down to it.

“Bianca! Are you in here?” Hazel called out.

“Be right there!” A familiar voice called from behind the wall of pointe shoe cubbies. “I think your new custom shoes just came in, but I’m still digging --”

Bianca’s eyes landed on Percy. She looked exactly like he remembered her -- older of course, but with the same long dark hair, pale skin, and dark eyes. The same as her brother.

“Funny meeting you here,” he said.

“He does remember you, but he had no idea who Nico was,” Hazel said, before wandering off with Frank to some other part of the small room.

Percy held his arms open, and Bianca accepted the hug. “I can’t believe you remember me, I mean, I’ve been following your career since I found out you were in City Ballet. That’s just so incredible, Percy,” she said.

Percy smiled and shrugged. “Miss Hestia’s classes were the most important ones I ever took. I remember them really well,” he said.

“Do you still talk to her?”

“Oh yeah, she comes to all my premieres. She’s still teaching too. Here,” he pulled out his phone, “we should send her a picture.” They snapped a quickie selfie. “I’ll send it to her later,” Percy promised. He was about to ask her about her life, her job, her … everything, but Hazel interrupted.

“Sorry, but we’ve gotta get him up to rehearsal before Lupa tears us apart,” Hazel said.

“I’ll be here all month,” Percy said, “we should get coffee?

Bianca nodded.

He’d only been in Miami for a few hours, and the brand new city and brand new company already felt so incredibly familiar. As he walked back up with Hazel and Frank, he passed half a dozen dancers he knew from SAB. They all smiled, happy to see him.

Miss Hestia had let Percy join the pointe class without charging him, because she thought it would help him get stronger faster. He wasn’t in pointe shoes, just doing the exercises on flat, while the girls learned how to work through the shoes. Bianca looked so happy when she’d come in with her pair. She showed them off to Percy, explaining the different parts of the shoe, and how they had fit her at the dance store.

But today Percy’s head and heart weren’t in it. His mom had gone to the school that morning to talk to his history teacher, but the sting of the cheating accusation was still getting to him. What was the point in trying if no one actually believed he was capable of more than his lowest effort?

“Percy, try bringing your opposite shoulder just a little forward on this balance, it will help,” Miss Hestia suggested. He did what he was told, and it did help, but he didn’t care very much.

At the end of the class, she stopped him before he could run out the door. “Percy, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Percy nodded and started over to her, walking as slowly as possible to put off the inevitable conversation. I’m disappointed. You need to try harder. Or even the I don’t think this is the right place for you.

“Yeah?” He asked.

She just looked at her gaze soft and worried. “What’s wrong Percy? You don’t seem like yourself today,” she said.

Percy shrugged. “It’s school,” he told her, “I got a B on a test.”

“A B is a very good grade to get. Why is it a problem?” She asked.

“I don’t usually get Bs,” he said.

“Well, I’m sure one B won’t bring your grade down too much. And it’s only middle school --”

“You don’t understand!” Percy yelled, his anger exploding out of him, “I don’t ever get Bs! I don’t get Cs, even. I get Ds and Fs! But I tried, I actually tried this time, and my stupid teacher called my stupid step-dad and told him I must have cheated. Because they all think I’m some stupid failure! And my step-dad said if I cheat again he’ll --” Percy felt tears well up in his eyes, so instead of talking he just turned and kicked the cabinet where Miss Hestia kept all her CDs. He felt bad about it right away, not just because his toes hurt.

“Percy,” she rested a hand on his shoulder, “it’s okay. Can you take a deep breath with me.” He nodded, his vision still blurry. He followed along with her breathing, but stopped to wipe at his eyes when tears started to fall against his will. She just handed him a tissue. “It’s okay,” she promised him.

“Your stepfather did what?” She asked, when Percy’s anger had faded a bit.

“He told me that I wouldn’t be allowed to dance anymore if I kept getting in trouble. But how am I supposed to do good in school if everyone thinks I’m a liar when I try?”

Miss Hestia looked at him the way his mom did, like she saw all the injustice he had to put up with and wished she could stop it.

“That’s not fair, what your teacher said to you. She owes you an apology,” Miss Hestia said. Percy stared at her. He was used to his mom saying things like that to him, but he figured she only did it because she was his mom. He’d never heard another adult say another adult was wrong. “It’s worth trying, Percy. You are a smart kid.” No adult had ever said that to him before, not even his mom. “And your stepfather can’t take dance away from you. He might be able to stop you from coming to class, but dance isn’t just a class. It’s something that you do. Everyone can dance,” she said.

She knelt down and opened the cabinet he’d kicked.

“Sorry about kicking that,” he said sheepishly.

“I accept your apology, and I forgive you,” she said, digging through stacks of CDs. “Have you ever heard of Nina Simone?”

Percy nodded. His mom had a few of her records, and sometimes they played her on the classics radio station.

“She described freedom as a feeling. It’s not something you can explain, it’s just something that you feel. And you know it when you feel it, like love. She said she only ever felt truly free a few times, on stage while she was performing,” Miss Hesita said. She pushed the CD in the player and skipped a few tracks. “I want you to dance however you want. You can do ballet if you want, or you can freestyle. Just move. There are no rules.”

The song started. Percy started to move. He felt a little silly at first. The music didn’t fit the ballet technique he’d learned. It seemed to want him to move less rigidly. He started to shake, wiggle, and shuffle his feet across the floor, getting less self conscious with every beat. Nina Simone was listing all the things she didn’t have. No home, no shoes, no money, no class. Percy could relate. With Gabe there, his apartment was no home. He didn’t have shoes of his own for dance class; he was still stuck in the pink ones. He didn’t have money, and his family hardly had any. No class? Well!

He started to smile. The music made him want to keep moving, and moving made him want to move more. Finally, Nina Simone started to list the things she did have. Percy didn’t even laugh when she mentioned boobies and sex. He just kept dancing. He didn’t care how his body moved, he only knew it felt good. He could feel the music, but he didn’t need to count the beats, he just seemed to know them deep in his soul. He knew how he needed to move and when. He wasn’t facing the mirror. He had no idea if he looked good. He just knew he felt good.

He can’t take this away from you, Percy thought, this is yours.

Lupa clarified a few steps for him and Hazel, and then had them redo the entrance to Tarantella.

Tarantella didn’t have a lot of partnering. There weren’t lifts; mostly it was a competition between the boy and girl. The Tarantella was an Italian folk dance -- “It was supposed to cure you if you got bit by a tarantula” Nico explained -- but Balanchine had turned it into a quick wild ballet that had all the technique of ballet, but all the fun and energy of a peasant dance.

As he and Hazel ran through the first few minutes of the song, Lupa watched them carefully. Percy tried not to pay attention to her gaze. They invited you here, he reminded himself, you have nothing to prove.

“I’m going to stop you there,” Lupe said when they finished the pirouette competition. “Really nice work, but I want to see Percy do it with Rachel.” Hazel nodded. “Take a breather Percy. Rachel, can we run that diagonal again?”

Percy took long deep breaths and drank some water, trying to bring his heart rate down to a manageable pace as Rachel did a series of light, airy turns across the floor. Lupa gave her some tips to keep her going in the right direction. “You’re not spotting fast enough,” she told her. Rachel nodded and tried it again. “Keep thinking up, not out, if you go out, you’ll fall right over.” Percy tried to internalize that advice for himself. Anything that was useful to another dancer was useful to him.

“Are you two ready?” Lupa asked.

Percy walked over to Rachel, and they took the starting position.

Dancing with Rachel was something else entirely. She brought an immediate energy to it. It wasn’t that Hazel didn’t have energy, grace, or talent. She had all of those in excess. But Rachel brought a certain liveliness to it. She let her technique be a little imperfect for the sake of the Italian peasant character she portrayed. She flirted with Percy shamelessly as well, giving him something to play off of as they danced. Percy found himself having true fun with it.

He grabbed the tambourine prop, and she grabbed hers. Trying to manage an object as you spun and jumped added an extra layer and additional challenge.

His solo was first. He had some footwork, where he really tried to shake his body as if he were trying to get venom to work its way out of his system. Then he had six big jumps. He tried to get as much air as he could, kicking his legs up in front of him, hitting the tambourine when he reached his peak height, trying to time it just right with the music. When he landed the sixth jump, it was right back into footwork, with pas de chaval s and ballonnés back and forth. He reached his arms out to the audience, which was just Lupa and a ballet master, as if inviting them to join the dance.

As his solo came to an end, he let himself play to his character just a little more. He ran in the choreographed circle, his arms out to the side in second, and he let his fingers and hands shake just a little in time with the music, before he ran off for his exit.

His next entrance had more spins and jumps. He did a manège around the stage, jete and jete and jete and jete, before finishing opposite to where he needed to exit. He beat his tamborine a few more times, before letting the music carry him off, his back bent backwards, one arm up in the air shaking the tambourine as he ran off in time for Rachel to make her entrance. He heard Lupa laugh slightly, and when he looked at her, she almost seemed charmed.

If there was one thing Percy knew how to do by now, it was how to be charming.

When he and Rachel took the center together for her long series of pirouettes from fifth, Percy had to keep time on his tambourine. He opened his arms to the audience, a wide smile on his face, as if to say, come on! Look at this! The other dancers in the room, and even Lupa started to clap in time with his tambourine.

As they made their final exit, Percy grabbed Rachel’s arm, pulled her in close, and planted a big kiss on her cheek, and as she ran off, he tossed his tambourine in the air, catching it in his hand, as he leaned back and shook his arms above his head in triumph and celebration, before leaving. But as the tambourine landed in his hand, several of the little metal disks clinked out, landing on the floor.

Lupa was smiling. “You broke it!” She said, “that must be a good sign.” Percy liked her optimism.

Rachel walked over, about to say something to him, but instead, her eyes focused on his hand. “You’re bleeding,” she said, grabbing his hand. It was just a small cut where he’d caught the tambourine, nothing serious. He pressed his shirt into it to stop the bleeding.

“The things I sacrifice for my art,” he said. Rachel smiled.

“I have bandaids,” she said.

Lupa looked at them. “Nice work you two, take a break, patch Percy up. Chiron will have my head if I send his dancer back broken. Hazel,” Hazel’s head popped up from where she’d been stretching, “lets see you try it with Frank.”

Hazel and Frank smiled and made their way to the starting position.

Immediately, there was something different in Hazel’s dancing. That energy he hadn’t felt was there. The dance was inspired. She had a small frame, but she captured everyone's attention with her fast and expressive dancing.

Frank brought something a little different than Percy did. His peasant boy wasn’t so boisterous, but he had all the frantic energy. It was a little more nervous, more excited about being near the girl. Not quite the competitive bravado Percy had channeled. Percy liked it. He thought it worked for both of them.

“They never get to dance together,” Rachel whispered. That made sense. Frank was noticeably taller than her, even when she was on pointe. “They thought they might get cast together here because there’s not too much traditional partnering.”

Ah, Percy thought, Hazel had thrown her dance with him, then, to try to get cast with Frank . Percy had to say, their height difference kind of worked for this dance. They looked cute together, and Hazel’s confidence made her seem that much taller, while Frank’s anxiety seemed to shrink him.

“Are they …” Percy whispered.

Rachel nodded. “Oh yeah, since she came back from New York last year.”

Percy smiled, glad then, for Frank, that Hazel hadn’t stayed in New York.

When the phone rang at dinner time, Percy panicked. That was never a good sign. It usually meant a teacher needed to talk to his mom, and he was about to get in trouble. But he hadn’t done anything wrong. He hadn’t been in any fights. All of his grades were Cs -- higher than usual, but not so much teachers could accuse him of cheating. He gripped his fork and started to mash his baked potato as his mom stood to answer the phone.

“What did you do this time?” Gabe asked him.

“Nothing,” Percy said.

“It’s never nothing with you. Remember what I told you about your little fairy lessons,” Gabe said.

“It’s ballet,” Percy reminded him.

“It’s queer,” Gabe spit.

Percy just clenched his jaw and kept smashing his potato. He knew what queer meant. Word had gotten out around school about his hobby, and he heard that and other words plenty. He tried not to let it get to him. He liked ballet, and he didn’t see a problem with being gay even if he was. And if Gabe didn’t like it? What was he going to do? Hit him? Percy rolled his eyes. There was nothing Gabe could do to him he hadn’t done before, and nothing he could take from Percy that was worth keeping.

He heard his mom on the phone. “That’s great, no really, that’s so great to hear. He’ll be so happy. Yes, if you could. That would be so helpful. Thank you, yes, I’ll be in touch.”

He heard the receiver click, and his mom walked back in, a big smile. “Percy, that was Miss Hestia. She says you’re doing really well in your dance classes.” Percy actually smiled. He didn’t care that Gabe was there, forcing laughter. “She said she thinks you could really pursue dance if you trained a little more.”

“What do you mean?” Percy asked. He’d been dancing for six months. He’d improved a lot, but he didn’t think of himself as good.

“She thinks you’re a great dancer and strong student. She says, if you think you might like a professional career or to dance in college, you should start training more,” Sally explained.

“I’m already taking all of Miss Hestia’s classes,” Percy said.

“That’s the thing,” Sally said, “she thinks you should go to a more advanced, more professional training program.”

“She … she doesn’t want to teach me anymore?” Percy asked.

Gabe scoffed. “I’ve had enough of this,” he said, leaving his plate on the table, but taking his beer to the living room.

Sally stood up and knelt next to Percy. “That’s not it at all, sweetie. She thinks you’re already more advanced than her classes can really accommodate. She’s a recreation program, not a pre-professional program. She thinks you could get into a good pre-professional school, somewhere with more boys, where they could give you the training you’d need.”

Percy ran the idea through his head. It would mean more dancing, more moves, new teachers and new people. It would be scary, probably. He’d only been dancing for six months. He’d never be able to keep up with boys who’d been dancing for a long time. But if Miss Hestia thought he could do it … He imagined himself on stage, what it might feel like to actually be a pro. He’d watched the PBS Broadcast of the New York City Ballet Nutcracker that winter, the old one with the kid from Home Alone in it. His neighbor had even recorded it on her TiVo for him, and she let him go over to watch after school. He could be that man, the cavalier with Sugar Plum. If he just worked a little more, maybe he’d be able to do it.

Percy started to say yes, and then he remembered how much Gabe had yelled when Sally had brought him home a new pair of ballet slippers. Slippers weren’t even that expensive, but Gabe didn’t like it. Percy needed them, though. His toe had broken through the pink ones and his feet had completely outgrown them. If Gabe thought they didn’t have the money for those, he’d never say they had the money for a better dance school.

“No,” Percy said, “it’s okay. I don’t want to keep dancing.”

Sally rested a hand on his knee. “Percy, look at me. You are a great dancer, and I know it makes you happy. If you want to do this, then we will figure it out. Miss Hestia knows some scholarships you might be able to win. There are some competitions you can win, some things you can apply for … we will make this happen.”

“Gabe won’t like it,” Percy said.

“Let me handle him, alright. You don’t need to worry about him.”

Percy ended up getting a last-minute spot in a smaller competition in the city. The top two winners would get some scholarship money, and some local schools were going to be there, offering admission to anyone they liked. But Percy needed the admission and the money.

He only had a month to learn his variation. Miss Hestia had picked something from Flames of Paris for him. It was all jumps and spins, his favorites.

“You’ve gotten longer,” she said. He had. He’d gone through a growth spurt and grown at least three inches in the past six months. “Use that length. On those arabesques, never let the energy stop. Energy out, out, out through those fingertips and back through the toes.”

To practice at home, he snuck down to the laundry room in the basement so he didn’t bother the neighbors with his jumps. Petite allegro apparently made more noise than he thought, and the downstairs neighbors had complained to his mom. There wasn’t a lot of space, but he had just enough room to do two grande jetes and his a la second turns. He started building a small audience of neighbors who recognized him, and would wait to collect their laundry until his music had finished. They even clapped for him. He had to say, he liked the feeling of people seeing him dance.

The stage was in a small auditorium. Nothing terribly fancy. And the audience was all other performers and their parents and coaches.

“The most important thing is to have fun, okay,” Miss Hestia told him before he went on. “There will always be more performances, so don’t worry about winning. Just dance like you always do.” Percy nodded.

He went out on stage, gave his vision a moment to adjust to the lights, and then exploded into a dance. No one needed to know he’d never danced on a stage before, he realized, or even that he didn’t know the rest of Flames of Paris. All they needed to know was that he knew how to jump high and keep his chest up as he landed, and that he could spin around three times before landing in the right spot.

Miss Hestia gave him double high fives when he left the stage. “You were excellent,” she said.

He was more nervous at the awards ceremony than anything else. They announced the honorable mentions, and he hadn’t gotten one. Then third place. Not him. When he didn’t even get second, he started to feel really low.

“And first prize,” the judge said, “goes to Percy Jackson, Flames of Paris .”

When Percy stood up, his legs were shaking. He walked over and got his medal, and shook the judges hand. He could hear his mother cheering in the crowd, louder than all the rest of them.

Slaughter on Tenth Ave gave Percy a chance to brush up on his tap work.

It was fun to be in a ballet where technique wasn’t paramount. He didn’t need to turn out, or help a ballerina stay in a balance on pointe. He just had to look like some 1920s hoofer and sell a story to the audience.

He started rehearsing the role with Reyna, and hadn’t switched partners since their first run. Reyna wasn’t in pointe shoes for this one, just heels. She also didn’t need to worry about technique much. All of her work was in kicking her legs up high, and flipping her hair around.

Percy wrapped an arm around her back, and Reyna leaned back in a deep, deep dip, her hair brushing the floor. Percy supported her in this back bend as she kicked one leg up straight in the air. When it came down, they moved across the stage just a bit, before the other one came up. He walked her across the stage like that, with each leg kicking straight up.

When their rehearsal ended, Reyna wasted no time sliding into a split and leaning forward, her forehead resting against her right thigh.

“Staying warm enough backstage to do all those kicks is the hardest part of this role,” she said.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Percy said, starting his own stretches. “You can really get your leg up.”

Reyna smiled. “I was trained by a Russian ballet teacher, an old Vaganova dancer, before joining Miami’s school,” she said, “and there was no slouching in her classes.”

That made sense, Percy thought. Reyna had an insane flat turn out and could extend her leg all the way up, so that her shin was to her ear.

“You didn’t want to keep up with the Russian training?” Percy asked.

“I wanted to, but my dad wouldn’t let me move to Russia. My family is from Miami, so this is where I stayed,” she said. She switched her split to the other side, leaning forward towards her left leg now. “I like Lupa. Of all the American directors, she’s … well, the most Russian in her intensity, let’s say. It works for me,” she leaned back towards her right leg. “Burned Jason out, though.”

“What do you mean?” Percy asked.

“Chiron is more ‘chill,’” she said, putting air quotes around chill. “That’s what he told me when he decided to stay in New York.”

“Well, it’s not like Chiron lets his dancers off easy,” Percy said, defending his company.

Reyna shifted into a low lunge and smiled. “I know he lets Annabeth Chase dance at slower tempos because she can’t keep up.”

“Only in ‘Marzipan,’” Percy said quickly. Shit talking NYCB was one thing, healthy rivalry and all that, but Annabeth was another thing entirely. “And she can keep up. The slower tempo, It’s their compromise. She doesn’t like dancing ‘Marzipan,’ but he likes her in the role, so she gets to ask the conductor to bring it down a notch when she’s dancing it, and Chiron gets to keep casting her.”

“Why keep casting her if she hates it and can’t dance it?” Reyna asked.

“She can dance it,” Percy clarified, “and it’s because she’s one of the strongest dancers in the company. She’s a master at all those hops on pointe. Chiron trusts her not to fall over or break her ankle. If she likes to do it a little slower, so what? It gives her more time to bring more artistry and grace to keep it interesting.” He could feel his defensiveness in his voice, and Reyna spotted it too.

She raised a suspicious eyebrow at him before asking: “Did she ever get married?” Reyna asked.

“No, she left him at the altar.”

Reyna actually smiled then. “Damn, good for her.”

His mom nearly crushed him when she hugged him. “I’m so proud of you,” she said as she kissed the top of his head. Miss Hestia had congratulated him when he left the stage, and then said she was going to find someone important.

“Miss Hestia says we can’t leave yet. She wants to introduce us to someone,” Percy said.

“We’ll stay here all night if we need to,” Sally promised.

They didn’t need to wait all night. A minute later, Miss Hestia was there, a young man with her. He looked like he was maybe in his thirties, dark blonde hair and a wide smile.

“The big winner! Congratulations kid,” the man said.

“Thanks,” Percy said. He didn’t like the guy’s super familiar energy, but he would be polite.

“My name is Lester,” he said.

“Like the cannibal?” Percy asked.

He laughed. “No, that's Hannibal Lecter, but close. I’m one of the instructors at Phoebus Dance Academy. We’d like to offer you a spot.”

Percy nodded. “That would be great,” he said. Miss Hestia was nodding too.

“Glad to hear it. Is this your mom?” He looked at Sally.

“Sally Jackson,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Your son is quite the talent, Miss Jackson. Let’s talk about his enrollment.”

As they stepped to the side, Miss Hestia gave him another hug. “You are always welcome in my class,” she said. “But I think you’re really going to go far, Percy.”

“You really think so?” He looked down at his first place medal. The first time he’d ever been the best at anything.

“I do. Tell me, did you like being on stage?” She asked.

“It was the best,” he said. It was. It was such a rush to be up there, in costume, no mirror, knowing anything could go wrong, knowing anyone could see him slip and fall, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t falling, he was flying. He was doing everything right.

“Then yes, I think you’re going to be one of the best the ballet world has ever seen.”

Casting was finalized a week and a half later, but it didn’t come with any surprises to Percy. After the first few days, he’d only been scheduled to dance Tarantella with Rachel and Slaughter with Reyna.

Lupa had made it a habit to sit in on Percy’s rehearsals and watch him closely. Percy tried not to let it shake him; she was just another audience member. Rachel didn’t seem bothered by it at all. She just kept smiling and dancing. Her red curls were pulled back into a tight bun, but even restrained they gave her a folksy peasant look that played well with the ballet.

Rachel didn’t struggle to keep up the pace. While Percy sometimes felt like he was running around like a child playing tag, she managed to maintain all the grace of a classically trained dancer with the charm and attitude of their peasant characters. Percy mostly channeled the peasant attitude into his on-stage flirting and general goofball style of dance.

But whatever they were doing together, Lupa seemed to really enjoy it.

They were half way through their first run of the day, and Lupa hadn’t stopped them once. She seemed content to let them just keep going, keep playing off each other to see what discoveries they might make.

Percy had been having fun switching up his exits. At the end of the dance, he ignored the rapid beating of his heart and the burn in his lungs, as he pulled Rachel in for a big kiss on the cheek. As she ran off, he beat his chest with the tambourine in triumph before chasing her off, his shoulders shimmying as he leaned back and made his way off stage.

The music ended, and he and Rachel collapsed onto the floor breathing heavily.

“Nice,” Lupa said. “My goodness, you can jump,” she said to him.

Percy smiled and let out a breathy “Thanks” in between deep gulps of air.

“I want us to run the beginning again and work on getting that footwork completely matched,” she said. “And I want to run the turns contest again.”

Rachel peeled herself off the floor. Percy took that as his cue to make himself ready. He took a few slow breaths as he walked to the opposite corner of the room, and took her arm for the starting position.

“Can we get the tempo a little slower?” Lupa asked the pianist. “Let's run it slow first to make sure we’ve got it, then we’ll take it full speed.”

Rachael and Percy nodded, as their few bars of lead-in started to play. They heard their cue and ran out to the middle of the room, slower than usual to match the pace of the music. The footwork at the start had them tapping the tops of their toes behind them, and the box of Rachel’s pointe shoes made loud clacking noises as they did. They let Percy know when he was out of sync with her, but this run, he felt his toes tap the floor as he heard the clack of her shoes.

Percy went to arabesque and held out his hand for Rachel to clap with her own, but Lupa stopped.

“Alright, much better. Let's try it full speed.”

They started from the beginning again. The music was faster now, but Percy could tell they were far more synchronized than earlier that morning. Perfect, even.

“Yes! Yes, that’s great,” Lupa said, cutting them off again. They ran the turns contest again, and then the whole thing from the top. Lupa applauded them at the end. “Excellent! I’ll leave you two to the ballet masters until opening,” she said, before calling an end to their rehearsal.

“We make a pretty great pair,” Rachel said, smiling at him as she took her pointe shoes off.

“Yeah,” Percy agreed, “you remind me a lot of my friend Piper.”

Rachel and Piper were similar heights and builds, but he also felt that similar, natural ease dancing with Rachel that he felt with Piper. They didn’t need much rehearsal to get to a place where the dance looked and felt good. He remembered that being the case when they were in school together, but it had been so many years since then. He was glad to see that not too much had changed.

“Jason’s new girlfriend?” Rachel asked, a curious look in her eye.

Percy nodded. “Not sure what they’re calling each other, but more or less.”

“You’d be wise not to bring her up too much around Reyna,” Rachel warned.

“Got it,” he said. “Anyone else I should avoid mentioning?”

Rachel smiled as she stretched out her tired legs. “Oh,” she started casually, “quite a few people are hoping you don’t bring up Annabeth Chase too much,” she said.

“Why not?” Percy asked, massage ball under his sore calf muscle.

She almost laughed. “We hear all sorts of rumors from New York. From what we hear, it’s not just Piper McLean who’s got a new man.”

Percy couldn’t stop himself from flushing or grinning. He instinctively reached for his phone to text Annabeth, but he held back. “Well…” he shrugged, not sure exactly what to say.

Rachel almost looked disappointed, but she pulled her face back into the flirty familiar look she wore in the ballet. “Ah, how unfortunate for all of us. Nico will be particularly disappointed.”

“Nico?” Percy asked. He wasn’t surprised Nico was gay; the only color the man seemed to own was in several Pride-themed items, including his water bottle.

“The little Italian man? Bianca and Hazel’s brother,” Rachel reminded him.

“I know who he is,” Percy said, “I was just surprised to hear he liked me. I thought I might have deeply offended him by not remembering his name.”

Rachel laughed. “Well, he keeps telling people you’re not his type, but unprompted. He’s certainly trying to prove something to someone. Should I tell him there’s no chance?”

“Well, technically, I only promised Annabeth not to sleep with any women while I was down here,” he joked.

“Well then, I’ll let him know there’s hope,” Rachel said, smiling. “Do you want to grab dinner when we get out of here? I still want to catch up,” she said.

“That’d be great!” Percy said smiling.

They ended up at a casual Cuban restaurant and stayed at the table long after finishing the bulk of their meal. Percy pushed the remaining rice and beans around his plate in some effort to convince the waitress they were still working on the food.

Rachel had climbed the ranks of Miami Ballet fast. She became a soloist at twenty-two, and only stayed at the rank for about thirteen months before being promoted again. As a young dancer, she’d made a big splash with her success. Distantly, Percy remembered her landing the cover of Pointe Magazine at twenty, dressed in one of her costumes from Balanchine’s Coppelia .

“Lupa made it clear when she promoted me to soloist that she thought I could easily go all the way to Principal,” Rachel said, mushing some beans with the back of her fork. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if lost in the memory. “I really felt like my life was over when I didn’t get into New York. I mean, I know most people don’t, but …”

“I know how you feel,” Percy reminded her, “even if I got it in the end. But it seems like things really worked out for you down here.”

Rachel nodded. “It’s been pretty perfect. I mean, I’ve gotten to do so much. I sometimes wonder if I’d stayed in New York if I would have ended up just kind of stuck --” she cut herself off, her cheeks going pink as she sucked in a breath, and Percy raised a knowing eyebrow. “I don’t mean because of your career. You’re doing amazing, I just …” she cleared her throat.

Percy decided to throw her a lifeline.

“I get it,” he said. “I sometimes wonder what my life would be like if I’d decided to go to Miami anyway. Maybe I wouldn’t be so … stuck.” The thought had crossed his mind a few times, particularly in recent years, waiting to see if he’d be promoted. He wondered if he would be a principal by now, like Rachel was.

“Do you think you’ll get promoted soon?” Rachel asked.

Percy shrugged. “Annabeth keeps saying she thinks so, but I don’t know.”

“Would you ever leave New York? If you got something better?” She asked.

Percy took a sip of his drink, slurping down the last dregs of Coke. Would he? He’d never really considered it before. City Ballet had been -- is -- everything to him. But …

“I mean, maybe? The thing about New York is … it’s a lot more to me than just the company, you know? When I was eighteen and needed a job, sure, I could start a new life somewhere else. But …” he thought about his family, his friends, and Annabeth. But then he thought about his career. “I mean, I wouldn’t do what Jason did, and go just from soloist to soloist.”

“What if it was more than that?” Rachel asked.

“Well, I guess then I’d have to think about it, but that kind of thing doesn’t really happen anyway,” he said.

Rachel shrugged. “You never know,” she said.

Their waitress came back over. “Can I get these out of the way for you?” She asked.

They handed her their plates, and Rachel asked for the check. When it arrived, she grabbed it before he could.

“You are quite literally a guest in Miami, I could never let you pay for it,” she said. Percy remembered that her dad was some kind of fancy CEO. He was pretty sure her family owned a helicopter and their own private chunk of a Caribbean island. So, he let her pay for it.

“Thanks,” he said.

She also got the Uber ride back. When she dropped him at his AirBNB, he thanked her again, leaning in for a hug.

“Say ‘hi’ to Annabeth for me,” she said.

Percy didn’t know if she and Annabeth had ever actually talked before, but he said he would.

Lester had gotten him into a bigger competition. It was regional, but if he did well, he’d go on to the national competition.

“No pressure on this one,” Lester said. “Juniors is twelve through fourteen, so you’re up against some older kids. I just want you to get some exposure, and get used to big competitions.”

Percy had kept the same Flames of Paris variation, working on the number of turns he could do at once, and how carefully and precisely he landed them.

He did a good job, and Lester told him as much. Some of the other boys from his school had more complicated variations, and Percy thought they stood out more. But he did his best, and he was proud of himself when he’d finished.

They sat in the audience to watch the junior girls. Some of the girls from his school were competing, and they needed to support them.

One of the last girls to go was a blonde girl in a peasant dress. The music started. “This is Giselle,” Lester whispered to him.

“Her name is Giselle?” Percy asked.

“No, the ballet is called Giselle,” he said. The blonde girl wasn’t even thirty seconds into the dance before Lester leaned over again and said, “I don’t know who the girl is, but she’s going to be famous.” Percy wasn’t sure how he could know that from just a few simple steps, but as her dance went on, he started to see it. Junior girls didn’t need to wear pointe shoes, but she was in them, and she seemed so much more graceful than the girls in training at his school. She had control over her feet, her arms, her head … so many of them just looked long and awkward like most preteens, but she was different. Her technique was great, Percy could tell, but she was also able to act the part. A lot of them just got up and did the dance with a smile on their face, but Giselle seemed to really know how to tell the story.

Percy found himself on the edge of his seat as she did hops on one foot, on her toes!, across the stage on pointe. He didn’t know ballet could be just as exciting to the people watching as it was to perform.

The audience erupted with applause for her. “I’ve never seen a junior do that,” Lester said to him over the roar of the crowd. He picked up the program and started scanning for her name. “I mean, the strength and control …”

It wasn’t a surprise to Percy that the blonde girl had won the competition, but one of the girls from his school had gotten third, and another two were top ten. Percy came in twelfth for the boys, which he counted as pretty exceptional, since there were so many dancers there.

After the awards were handed out, the judges lined the top fifteen boys and girls up, thirty kids in a line, and took one big picture. Giselle and top boy were right in the center. Percy was off to the side. Every winner got sent a copy, and Sally framed it right away.

Twelfth place wasn’t high enough to move onto the next round of competition, but the girls and boy from his school who made it into the top five did go on.

“ Giselle won the whole thing,” Lester said when they got back from Washington D.C.

The waitress at Calypso’s dropped off several baskets of chips and salsa, before returning with an enormous pitcher of margaritas, and a tray of tequila shots and limes. They all had the day off tomorrow, and Hazel was determined to show Percy a good time. Calypso’s was a favorite spot of theirs, they told him. Happy hour offered two dollar tequila shots and two dollar tacos. They had ordered both in abundance.

He was sitting in a booth between Rachel and Reyna, and Hazel, Frank, Nico, and Bianca sat on the other side.

“I hate doing shots,” Percy confessed.

“Well, you only need to do one,” Rachel said, handing him the tiny glass, salt, and a lime. "It's tradition."

“I like the ritual of a tequila shot,” Reyna said.

“Nothing quite like licking salt off your own hand,” Frank agreed.

The tequila was decently smooth for two dollars, but Percy still made a face all the way through the bite of his lime.

“You know, Jason Grace holds the Miami Ballet record for most tequila shots in a single night,” Hazel told him. Percy laughed, trying to square the image of the buttoned up Jason Grace he knew with a man who could earn some kind of tequila shot record.

“Eleven in one night,” Frank said.

“He threw up in my bed,” Reyna muttered.

A few at the table raised their eyebrows.

“We weren’t sleeping together, I just got stuck taking care of him,” she said casually, pouring a margarita into a large glass.

“Did you two ever sleep together?” Rachel asked, reaching for a chip.

“That’s between me, him, and God,” Reyna said, sipping her drink.

For a moment, there was an awkward lull in the conversation, but Frank was quick to fill it.

“So, Percy, what’s your favorite role to dance?” He asked.

Percy paused to think. “Well, Opus 19 has a special place in my heart. I just danced that again this winter. And dancing Prince Desiré in Sleeping Beauty was incredible. But honestly, Tarantella has been a dream ballet of mine since I was twelve, and Chiron just never puts it on the program,” he said. “So getting to dance it here has been really great.”

He felt Rachel rest a hand on his knee under the table. He assumed, at first, it was a supportive and excited reassurance, but then she didn’t take it away as she started speaking.

“Don’t tell Chiron, but Lupa always complains Chiron isn’t using Balanchine’s rep to its full potential,” Rachel said.

“What do you mean?” Percy asked.

Rachel shrugged. “She thinks he has a much more classical approach than is fitting for Balanchine’s company.” She took a sip of her drink. “And that he favors dancers who are more classical in their style.”

Percy shook her hand off his knee, trying to think of some response, but Hazel saved him the energy.

“Be careful who you shit talk,” Hazel warned, “Beckendorf is still my good friend, and Annabeth is sweet, despite what everyone says.”

Percy didn’t need clarification on what everyone says. He’d heard it enough himself, but he was surprised to know those rumors had made their way down to Miami.

“She’s been through a lot,” Percy said, “and Hazel’s right. She’s sweet. And talented.”

“No one said she wasn’t talented,” Rachel said.

Percy was about to remind them all that New York was good enough for Jason, but Nico saved him from starting an all out war. The man didn’t talk much, and when he did, his voice commanded people’s attention. He was nothing like the little boy he remembered from Miss Hestia’s class.

“You’ll have to forgive Rachel. She’s never quite emotionally recovered from Annabeth dancing Juliet the same year she was rejected from City Ballet.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Rachel’s face go red, and then there was some thump, and Nico muttered, “Ow.”

“It’s all right,” Percy said, still a bit angry. He slipped his phone out of his pocket, and under the table he tapped out a quick message to Annabeth: I miss you. “Hazel, what made you stay in Miami?” Percy asked, changing the subject.

“Oh, well,” she took a deep breath, “I was just about set on moving to New York and leaving these Balanchine companies behind. But … Lupa offered me a principal contract and the two swans to stay on for at least another five years with the company.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t pass that up. Lupa always gets what she wants.” She turned to Frank. “But the choice came with a few other advantages.”

Nico rolled his eyes as she rested her head on Frank’s shoulder.

“You must’ve been one of the youngest Swans ever,” Rachel said.

“Youngest at Miami to do it. But I wasn’t the youngest ever , certainly not,” Hazel said.

“At least the youngest in recent years?” Frank suggested.

Hazel almost laughed, before making eye contact with Percy. She raised an eyebrow at him, inviting him to say the magic words. His phone buzzed.

ANNABETH: I miss you too ❤️

“Annabeth Chase danced them at twenty-one,” Percy said.

After a few months, Percy started to really understand what Miss Hestia meant by needing a better program. He was already stronger and more in control of himself and his body. His new school had more classes, not just ballet but also tap, modern, and jazz. They had conditioning workout classes Percy could take on the weekends. He started to look like the boys in his classes, the ones who’d been dancing for years. He had the same strength, the same skills. He started letting himself dream of a real career. Maybe he could do it.

“I know you haven’t been dancing for a while,” Lester said to him after one class, “but since you’re already almost thirteen, it’s a good idea to start thinking about your goals, your future.” Percy nodded. “What are your goals, Percy?”

“My dream would be --”

“We’re not talking about dreams, we’re talking about goals. Once we know what you want to do, we can start working for it,” Lester said. “Your goals don’t need to be small, though. So, tell me again, what’s your goal?”

“To be a professional ballet dancer, in a real company,” Percy said.

Lester smiled. “Great! Any idea where?”

Percy shrugged. “I don’t know a lot of companies, I guess. Or even how to get into one.”

“You’re in luck, because I do.” Lester dug around his bag. “Here, I brought these for you to watch,” he handed Percy a stack of old tapes, “do you still have a VCR at home? If not, you can watch them here. We have one upstairs. These are some George Balancine ballets. He created his own ballet style, an American aesthetic for ballet. It’s fast and modern. I think it would suit you. Give these a watch, tell me what you think.”

Percy nodded, looking at the titles on the tapes. Jewels. Serenade. Tarantella. “Does George Balanchine have a company?” Percy asked.

Lester smiled. “Balanchine is dead, but there are a few companies that do his repertory. Miami and Pacific Northwest. And, the big one, New York City Ballet. That was Balanchine’s company.”

“I��ve seen their Nutcracker !” Percy said.

“Awesome! Go home, watch these, and tell me what you think.”

They were hardly what Percy had expected. He loved dancing ballet, but he’d never really enjoyed just watching it. He thought the competitions had been pretty boring, except when he was on stage. But these were different. The dancers moved fast, exploding with energy and character. They spun fast, jumped fast, and danced fast. It actually held Percy’s attention, even when it was a little slower. They made him smile.

Tarantella was his favorite. The man got to jump high up in the air while he beat on a tambourine, before coming down to do some fun footwork and swing his arms around. And at the end, he got to kiss the girl. Percy started to copy some of the moves, but the man danced so fast, Percy could barely figure out what he was doing.

When Percy walked into the studio for class two days later, he handed Lester the stack of tapes back.

“I want to be in the New York City Ballet,” Percy said.

“You got it,” Lester said. “That’s our new goal. Now, let’s figure out how to get you there.” He handed Percy the stack of tapes back. “Hold onto these for me,” he told him.

His Slaughter debut was coming up, and it was one of the rare performance debuts he didn’t feel nervous about. He and Reyna were well-matched partners, the same as he and Rachel. He could easily imagine dancing several other ballets with either of them without much of an issue. It was the same ease that had always been present when he danced with Piper. And now, with Annabeth.

Percy unlocked the door to his apartment. As a temporary living space, it didn’t have much of his own personality. It was a well-decorated AirBNB, close to the theater and studios. He’d promised himself he was going to unpack as soon as he got in, but they were over two weeks into his guesting spot, and he was still living out of his suitcase. Well, he thought, as he looked shamefully at the pile of clothes he had created, too late now. It's already halfway done.

He pulled some vegetables out of his fridge, along with an egg and some leftover rice, content to make a quick stir fry before collapsing into his bed, when his phone pinged.

ANNABETH: You up?

Percy smiled as he texted yeah, expecting a phone call but getting blessed with a FaceTime.

She was already laying in bed, her hair down, glasses on, and makeup off.

Before she could even say “hi,” Percy rested his head on the counter, overwhelmed.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he said.

She laughed and rolled onto her back, holding her phone up over her face. “I’m glad I called. It sounds like you almost forgot about me.”

Percy pouted. “Forget about you? I could never,” he said, propping his phone up against the knife block so he was still in frame as he cooked. “And anyway, everyone here is just as obsessed with you as New York is. They all want to know about you.”

“I hope you’re not being too flattering,” she said, rolling back over onto her side.

“Impossible,” he said, dumping the vegetables into the pan. “How has New York been?”

“Good, I agreed to teach a masterclass at your sister’s ballet school this summer. Just a weekend pre-pointe intensive,” she said. “Stella was thrilled.” Annabeth, he knew, had continued to visit Stella’s school, and had even started taking class with the older students while City Ballet was on break. “I’ve signed 100 pairs of shoes in the last two weeks,” she’d told him a few days ago, her smile betraying any attempt at faux annoyance.

“How’s Miami?” She asked.

“Hot,” he said. “I’m pretty tired, too, without a break between seasons, but … it’s been a lot of fun. Tarantella and Slaughter are such exciting pieces,” he told her.

“Piper has been complaining endlessly that you’re getting to do Slaughter,” Annabeth said.

Percy nodded. “Oh she’s texted me about it plenty.”

“She and Silena were over today to help me pack,” she said. In the last month, she’d found an apartment in the same building as Beckendorf and Silena, and was using the break to move out of her old place.

“I’m sorry I’m not there to help you move things,” he said.

“Don’t worry about it, we’re big girls, we can handle it,” she said. “Your dad did try to help, and I think he hurt his back.” Paul had offered her his car to help with the move, but when she’d told him she didn’t have a driver's license, that quickly turned into him helping her move. From what Percy had heard from him, he’d been a huge help.

“Please don’t hurt Paul,” Percy said, “he’s the only good dad we’ve got.”

“Don’t worry, I think he's done helping.” She took a long pause, before saying: “I donated my wedding dress today.”

Percy paused from stirring his vegetables to look at her.

“How do you feel?”

She shrugged. “It was strange. I thought I’d feel sad or triumphant. But I tried it on, and I felt … nothing. It felt like a costume. It was beautiful. I looked good. But it was just a dress. I didn’t have any attachment to it, really.”

“How did it look?” Percy asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Annabeth teased, before getting serious again. “It still fit perfectly. Silena was there when I bought it, but Piper had never seen it. I actually let Piper try it on too, and it fit her great. She almost cried when she looked in the mirror. I offered it to her, but she thought it would be bad luck.”

“I bet you looked beautiful,” Percy said.

“I did. And it was so expensive. And I was just so happy I never wore it,” she said.

“Oh, me too,” Percy assured her.

“I miss you,” she said, her voice soft and sincere.

“I miss you too,” he promised. “I’ll be home soon.”

“You’ve promised me a dinner,” she reminded him.

“I plan to make good on that promise, don't worry.”

“Tell me more about Miami,” she said.

Percy told her everything he could think of. Rehearsals with Rachel and Reyna (he teased her about the jealous crease in her brow, which she denied), Lupa’s praise, their favorite spots to get dinner, the friendship he was building with Frank, the friendship he was remaking with Bianca. Everything.

By the end of his rambling, her eyes had started to droop. “I wish you were here with me,” she said.

“I wish I was too,” he said.

“Promise you won’t forget about me once you start all your performances?” she asked.

“There is nothing in the world that could make me forget about you,” he said.

“I don’t know, I’ve seen Reyna’s leg extensions before,” she said.

“I think she’s still feeling a bit betrayed by Jason, to be honest,” he said, “but also, they aren’t enough to make me forget about you,” he added quickly.

“Good save,” she said, yawning at the end. “Rachel Dare is very pretty,” she added.

Percy shrugged and tried to act nonchalant. “I’ve never really noticed,” he said.

“Sure,” Annabeth said, obviously not believing him. She yawned again, slipping her hand under the wire frame of her glasses to rub her eyes.

“Should I let you get some sleep?” He asked.

“Probably. And I should let you get to bed too.” He’d finished his dinner and sat on the couch despite how sweaty his body still felt.

He nodded. “Alright, goodnight Annabeth.”

“Goodnight Percy.”

When he got out of the shower, he had a single notification from her. A photo. He opened it, and found a picture from earlier that day of her in her wedding dress. A slightly off-white almost champagne-colored dress with a wide skirt and off-the-shoulder sleeves. He felt his face get warm and his heart rate pick up, as irrational thoughts of the future flooded his mind. He pushed them out of his head. Stage weddings in tutus were all they were ready for right now; no reason for him to get ahead of himself. But still. He wished she’d kept the dress until he got back to New York, so he could at least know what it was like to take her out of it.

PERCY: I’ll say it again. You’re so beautiful.

PERCY: Is it okay if I save this?

ANNABETH: Of course.

He rolled over onto his side, smiling as he stared at the photo, and let his mind wander off to the other things they’d do together once he got home, besides just getting dinner.

~*~

To get into New York City Ballet, Percy needed to get into the School of American Ballet. He and Lester and Miss Hestia had sat down to make a plan. They decided his best shot would be to try and get him in around his fifteenth birthday. That would give him two more years to train.

“You’ll audition for their summer course this year,” Lester said, “and a few other big courses. But, I’ll be honest, your odds of getting into the summer course this time around are pretty small.” Percy nodded.

“But, if you work hard, keep up your training, and don’t get injured, we think you can get into the summer course the summer you turn fifteen,” Miss Hestia explained. “From there, you’ll ask to be considered for the rest of the term. Hopefully that will push you over the top.”

“And if I don’t get in at fifteen?” Percy asked.

“We change our goals,” Lester said. “You can try out for other big schools, or you can find an even stronger program in the city than this one, and start working full time on dance, while you finish high school. And then just audition for companies. You don’t need to go to a big fancy school to get into a company.”

“Except City Ballet,” Percy said.

“Except that one,” Miss Hestia said, “but it’s not out of reach Percy.”

He went home, grateful to see that Smelly Gabe was out. His mom was working her usual Saturday shift too, so he had the apartment to himself. He popped in the VHS of Serenade and started to mimic the dancers. It started with seventeen girls on stage, but he didn’t care if they were girls, he just wanted to dance, and dance like them.

Percy was only ten minutes into the video when his mother got home. “Keep going,” she whispered, as she sat on the couch to watch him. He didn’t know all the steps, so he kept his eyes on the TV. He tried to reverse everything, remembering that he was looking at a mirror image, but that made it harder, so sometimes he just gave up and did it the wrong way.

Sally was smiling. “You’ll be on that stage one day, I’m sure of it,” she said.

Percy’s smile was interrupted by Gabe opening the door with as much clamor as a single man could possibly make. He smelled like tobacco and beer. Percy could tell that whatever poker game he’d been at had not gone well for him. He already seemed angry when he walked in, and the sight of Serenade on the TV only made him angrier.

Sally tried to shoo Percy to his room, but Percy wasn’t going to leave his mom with Gabe like this.

“Now, what the fuck is that?” Gabe said. He went over to the VCR and ejected the tape.

Percy reached for it. “It’s Balanchine’s Serenade, and it belongs to my teacher, so give it back.”

Gabe laughed. “You think you’re some kind of artist?”

“Gabe,” Sally said in a warning tone, “give Percy his video back. You can have the TV now.”

“It’s my TV, of course I can use it. What I don’t want is my TV being used for bullshit like this,” he said. He held up the video in front of Percy. Percy lunged for it, but Gabe pulled it back, taunting him. “You don’t need this garbage,” he said, as he reached into the casing and started to pull out the film.

“Stop it!” Percy yelled, reaching for it again, but he was thrown backwards by the force of Gabe’s backhand to his cheek.

Sally stood up fast. “You can’t hit him!” She yelled. From his spot on the floor, he saw his mom grab the tape out of Gabe’s hands and push him backwards, away from Percy. “I’ve let you lay your hands on me Gabe, but you will not touch my son,” she said. Gabe just grabbed her wrists and raised his fist above her.

“Stop!” Percy said. He’d hit her, he realized. Gabe had been beating his mom this whole time. Percy hadn’t protected her from anything. Percy stood, reading to run at Gabe, who’d turned his attention to Percy.

Sally broke out of his grip, and stood in front of Percy.

“You’ve hit him before, haven’t you?” She asked Gabe. Gabe just laughed. “Percy, you go to your room,” she said. Percy started to protest, but she yelled at him. “Now!”

He didn’t want to leave his mom, but he did what she said. He left the door open a crack, sitting right against the door frame, ready to run back out when she needed him.

They fought for over an hour. Or, rather, his mother yelled at Gabe for an hour. He could hear her moving through the living room, easily avoiding his drunk stumbling. Through the crack in his door, he could see into the kitchen. He saw Gabe go to the fridge for another bottle. Sally kept yelling at him, calling him a drunk lowlife and threatening to call the police. At that threat, he threw the half-empty bottle at her. Percy stood to go help her, but he heard it shatter somewhere else in the living room as his mother laughed.

“Get out,” she hissed at him. “You are never coming back here,” she told him. “I’ve let you get away with a lot of shit over the years, but you will not hurt my boy --”

“Your boy is an idiot and a trouble maker and a queer,” he heard Gabe say. He could see his mother in the kitchen. He watched her grab the heavy wooden cutting board and swing towards Gabe. He hit the ground with a loud thump.

“He’s good , and he’s mine. And I won’t let him suffer another day with you.”

Percy held his breath as he heard Gabe stumble to his feet. But he didn’t hear another word from him or his mom. The front door opened, then closed. Percy shut his own door quietly, before jumping into the bed as if he’d been there the whole time. He waited for mom. And waited. But she didn’t come in.

Percy’s lungs burned with effort, and his calves and quads ached, but he couldn’t stop smiling. Tarantella was all about the energy and the character. He felt free to jump as high as he could, swing his arms faster, flirt shamelessly as a peasant boy might with a girl, and beat his tambourine to the rhythm of the music.

He pulled Rachel in for their final kiss on the cheek before exiting, beating his chest in triumph, before shimmying his way off stage. Or, technically, to the side of the rehearsal room.

Light poured in through the big open windows, and the air inside and outside was warm. He knew the studios in New York were probably cold on the inside without daily use, and the weather outside would be gray and rainy. It must have been getting warmer, though. Last time they had FaceTimed, Annabeth was outside, sporting a Yankee baseball hat instead of her winter hat with the big pompom on top.

When the music cut, he flopped down onto his back in a beam of light like a cat would. Rachel followed him to the floor, lifting her feet up in the air and shaking them. The only sound was their heavy breathing for a moment, before the ballet master started giving them things to keep working on.

Before long, they were back up on their feet, running Rachel’s series of pirouettes as Percy encouraged the audience to clap along to the beat.

As soon as the folksy music started to play, it was as if every pain in his body, every physical limitation, and every bit of exhaustion disappeared for him. There was just Tarantella with Rachel.

The debut was in only a few days, and Percy couldn’t wait.

With every day that passed in Miami, he felt himself jump higher, spin faster, reach out further and further, closer and closer to … something. That feeling was indescribable, but he knew he was on the brink. It wasn’t quite the freedom he was always searching for, but it was close. There was something freeing about Tarantella and Miami together. He was no one’s understudy here. He was just himself.

His mom had finally come home at four in the morning. Percy hadn’t shut his eyes the whole time she was gone. He just stayed in bed, not caring that he was hungry, or needed to pee. He just kept waiting.

Finally, his door opened. His mother was there, looking a bit shell-shocked. “Percy, are you okay?” She asked.

Percy nodded. She walked over and sat on the bed next to him. She still smelled like the candy store. She was crying. “I’m so sorry, Percy, for what he’s done to you,” she stroked his hair gently.

Percy sat up and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m okay Mom, I promise.”

She hugged him back. “We’re going to be free of him one day, Percy. You’ll see. It’s going to be over soon.”

He stumbled to Miss Hestia’s class a few hours later, the ruined tape of Serenade shamefully in his bag. His jaw was a little bruised from where Gabe had hit him, but he just hoped people would believe that he fell trying to land a jump.

Miss Hestia didn’t believe him, he could tell. But she didn’t say anything.

“I … could you give this back to Mr. Lester?” Percy asked her, taking the tape out of his bag. The man had been working so hard to help Percy, he couldn’t stand the idea of giving him back his video himself. “My step-dad ruined it. I’m really sorry. I can pay for it.”

Miss Hestia took the tape from his hands gently, before resting a hand on his face. “Mr. Lester has plenty of copies, don’t you worry,” she said. “Should I be worried about the other things your stepfather has done?”

Percy shook his head. “He didn’t come home last night. I think he left for good,” he said.

“Okay,” Miss Hestia said, “is that why you look so tired?”

Percy nodded.

“How about, instead of taking class today, you go take a nap in the office. There’s a couch in there?” Percy nodded. A nap sounded nice. Miss Hesita led him there, let him lay down, and before long Percy was asleep.

Miss Hestia woke him up a few hours later. “Will your mom be home when you get back?” She asked once Percy sat up. He nodded. “Then let me walk you home. I’d like to speak with her.” Percy nodded, that ever-unpleasant feeling of a teacher talking to his mom washing over him.

Miss Hestia knocked on the door when they arrived, even though Percy had a key.

His mother relaxed when she saw Percy at the door. “Miss Hestia, thank you for getting him home. I was getting worried,” Sally said, as she gestured for Percy to come inside.

“Of course. Miss Jackson? Could I speak to you for a moment?” She asked.

Sally nodded. “Go inside, Percy,” she said, before stepping out into the hallway and shutting the door.

Percy stayed right by the door, his ear pressed up against it.

“Sally, I should call the police.”

“There’s no need, Hestia. His stepfather didn’t come home last night. I called the police myself, but,” his mother’s voice got low, “I don’t think we’ll ever see him again.”

There was a long strained pause between them.

“You’re a good mother, Sally,” Miss Hestia said, something tense in her voice, “Percy needs you.”

“And I won’t lose him. Everything will be fine. If Gabe comes back --”

“If your husband comes back, I will call the police. Neither of you should have to share a home with that man.”

“I know,” his mom said. Her voice got quiet, and she repeated, “I know. I should have kicked Gabe out a long time ago. But I will never let Percy get hurt again.”

“He’s a good boy, Sally. You’ve done your best.”

“Hestia, he and I … we’re going to be living on just my income now. So I need to know, is it worth it? Do you really think he can be a professional dancer?”

Percy felt his heart sink. Of course he’d have to give up dancing now. His mother wouldn’t be able to keep paying for it, and it must have been obvious to everyone that he wasn’t good enough to keep getting scholarships if even she thought he couldn’t do it.

“You don’t believe in him?” Miss Hestia sounded shocked to hear the question from Sally.

“I believe that Percy can do anything, I always have. But I can’t tell a good dancer from a great one, and not at their age. So … “

“Your son has a talent unlike anything I’ve ever seen. He’s been dancing for less than a year, but he is keeping up with boys his age who have been dancing their entire lives. Lester is a realist. He believes in everyone knowing who they are and what they are capable of. He would never lie to a student about what they were capable of. He wouldn’t tell Percy to aim for New York if he didn’t think Percy stood a chance of getting in.” There was a long pause. “As long as Percy wants to keep dancing, he will, even if I have to pay his tuition myself.”

There was a moment of silence between them. Finally, his mother offered a sheepish “Thank you. Thank you for taking care of him, for walking him home.”

“Of course, Sally. If you ever need anything …”

A moment later, the door started to open. Percy vaulted over the couch, landing on the cushions as if he’d been sitting there the whole time, not eavesdropping.

His mother sat next to him. “Why don't you take a nap, Percy?” She suggested. Percy just nodded and laid down on the couch. It didn’t take long before he was asleep.

When he opened his eyes, his mom was watching Jewels. It was nearing the end.

“This is ‘Diamonds,’” Percy said, “Mr. Lester was telling me that this section was composed by the same guy who did the music for Nutcracker.”

Sally nodded, “Tchaikovsky,” she told him. Percy repeated the name. “He also did Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty.”

“Like the Disney movie?” Percy asked. Sally just nodded.

She pointed to the man on screen dancing the pas de deux. “That’s going to be you one day,” she promised him. “Nothing can stop you.”

Percy wasn’t sure he believed her.

Percy did some small jumps in the wings to keep his legs warm as he waited for Tarantella to start. Rachel was standing next to him with ribbons in her hair. Percy had a bandana tied around his head for the folksy look. They’d run the dance on the stage earlier that day in dress rehearsal, and they’d done it to near perfection. All they needed to do now was recreate that rehearsal, now just in front of the thousand people in the audience.

Percy felt relaxed, confident even. He wanted to do a good job, but there was nothing on the line here for him. All he needed to do was go out on stage and dance the way he always had. He played the old video of Tarantella back in his mind; the grainy VHS tape was still clear in his mind’s eye. The energy of Patricia McBride and Edward Villea radiated through the screen, and the fast-tempo music electrified something under his skin. It had made him want to dance fast and jump up high, and it still made him feel that way.

Tarantella captured everything Percy had first adored about Balanchine; it suited Percy’s talents for jumping and acting. And Rachel was exceptionally easy to dance it with. They matched each other’s pace and energy easily, bringing the competitive spirit of the two characters out, while still finding that innocent flirtation in their looks.

The music started. Percy linked arms with Rachel, and they took to the stage, waving at the audience as they went. They hit every step right on the music, and right in sync with each other. With the beginning behind them, Percy let his body take over. His brain went quiet, and he just let his muscles do what they had to.

Percy didn’t hold anything back. He erupted from the wings for his second entrance and really went for it. He swung his arms wildly, and jumped and spun as fast as he ever had. He beat his tambourine against his foot, thigh, and hand. It wasn’t until he was in the wings, on his hands and knees, desperate to catch his breath, that he realized just how much he had put into the dance. Fuck you, George, he thought at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t help but smile anyway, as he stood up again, ready for his next entrance.

The audience cheered as Percy jumped up again, then again, and again, beating the tambourine as he soared into the air, kicking his feet up with him. He felt free. It was Percy and the dance, recreating the same ballet he’d watched and studied as a child, but now doing it all himself, for a real audience who were cheering for him with every step.

In those moments in the air, he felt his heart beating as hard as he was beating the tambourine. His body felt like it was not just moving in time with the music, but literally beating in time with it, right down to his heart, it was all Tarantella.

As the stage hand pulled back the curtain for Percy and Rachel to bow at the end, the crowd got on their feet, clapping for them. And Percy knew it was a triumph. The moment felt near-perfect, and he couldn’t help but smile as he thought that he’d nearly gotten everything he wanted.

Except of course … he spotted blonde hair in the front row, but it was some older woman he didn’t know. She didn’t look anything like Annabeth, but he couldn’t help hoping he’d spot her familiar face out there in the sea of people.

Sally didn’t let Percy see the body. He’d stayed outside of the morgue as Sally identified him. Gabe had his wallet on him when they found him, so they were pretty sure it was him.

His mother had cried the cab ride there, all the way through the identification, and all the way home. She’d been crying for days. Percy didn’t understand it. She was usually fine at home, but as soon as she stepped outside, it was like she couldn’t handle it anymore.

“Who cares,” Percy said that night, “he sucked and now he’s gone.”

“Don’t talk like that Percy,” she said. Her face was calm and serious, “not yet.”

Percy gave up trying to push the issue.

The police had asked Sally if they should do an investigation, but she declined. They didn’t even do an autopsy. After a day with the body the coroner ruled it a suicide, and Gabe’s case was closed. His mother opted for cremation.

She cried on the cab ride to the funeral home. She cried in the funeral home. She cried on the drive back. Percy couldn’t get himself to cry, but he must have looked shocked and confused enough at the news. Everyone kept treating him very kindly.

Sally and Percy walked back into their apartment. As soon as their front door shut and locked behind them, Sally kicked off her shoes, shed her coat, and held up Gabe’s urn.

“What should we do with these?” She asked. Her face was red from crying, but her eyes were dry now. Her voice was steady. And Percy thought she was even smiling.

“You … didn’t care?” Percy asked.

“He thought I was going to have him arrested,” Sally said casually.

“Then why …” Percy gestured broadly.

“I didn’t want the police to think … Well, it’s all over now. He made it easy,” she said, smiling at the urn.

“Only thing he ever made easy,” Percy said.

“Where should we put these?” Sally asked, nodding towards the ashes.

“I think we should flush them down the toilet,” Percy said. He waited for his mom to tell him that was mean or disrespectful, but she just smiled.

“Great idea,” Sally said, and they marched to the bathroom.

Percy did the honors of dumping the gray powder in the toilet water. “Good riddance, Smelly Gabe. You died the way you lived: gross.”

Sally got to flush.

“Now come on,” she said, pulling him from the bathroom. “This place is a mess.”

Sally threw open the windows of the apartment as Percy grabbed trash bags for the both of them. Before Sally took hers, she went over to the stereo, and picked out one of her own CDs, one of the ones she never played while Gabe was around. Percy recognized the CD. It was one of the Stevie Nicks ones his mom played whenever they drove out to Montauk.

As Stevie started singing, they started throwing out anything and everything that had belonged to Gabe. Ash trays. Beer bottles. Playing cards. CDs. Car magazines. They all went. They grabbed different bags for his clothes, and left them in the corner for donations.

“He’s got a life insurance policy,” his mother told him. “It will be enough for you to do your summer program, and a little left over for me to go back to school. And I’m going to sell that Radio Shack he owns.”

Percy smiled, “It’s the least he could do for us.”

Sally dropped her trash bag and walked over to him, finally pulling him into a tight hug. “If anyone ever hurts you again Percy…” she said, but she just trailed off.

Percy squeezed back. “You too, Mom. I don’t want anyone to ever hurt you either.”

“I know, sweetie, but that’s not your job. I’m your protector, okay? You’re not supposed to worry about me,” she told him.

Percy relaxed into the hug. “Okay Mom.”

“There’s nothing you need to protect me from. Not anymore. And there never was. I’m sorry …” she choked up, “I’m sorry for ever making you think there was.”

“It’s okay Mom,” he said, “I understand. I accept your apology, and I forgive you.”

His mom started to cry as she held onto him, and Percy felt himself start to cry too. For the first time since Gabe died, they both cried real tears over him, But , Percy promised himself, it would be the last time they ever did .

The song Percy always thought was going to be “Bootylicious” started, and his mother pulled away from him.

“This one’s my favorite,” she told him.

“I know,” he said, wiping his eyes.

Sally didn’t pick up the trash bag again, she just started dancing. A breeze blew through the window, and Percy could almost feel it carrying Gabe out of their lives forever. He was gone. Flushed.

Percy smiled and started dancing. There were no rules. He just had to move.

They danced through the living room, on the coffee table, on the couch, on the kitchen table. Wherever they could, they stood and danced together. Percy was surprised to find out he knew all the words to the song without ever trying to learn.

Sings a song, sounds like she's singing

I said ooh, baby, ooh, said ooh

They sang -- or shouted -- together, without any care for who heard them, or who they annoyed with their noise. It was just the two of them now. Their apartment belonged to them, and they had their lives back. They didn’t need to worry about anything ever again.

Sally grabbed his hands, and their dance turned into mostly jumping up and down as their singing got louder and louder.

“My love // I'm a few years older than you,” Sally sang at him.

The song was ending, but their dancing wasn’t slowing down. Percy could hardly smell that rancid scent of tobacco and beer anymore. He could barely picture the face that smell had belonged to.

As he and his mom danced even as the song faded and the next one started, Percy felt it, that moment Miss Hestia had told him about. She was right. Dance wasn’t something Gabe could have ever taken from him. It was something he did. And as he did in his living room with his mother, who was smiling, really smiling for the first time in a long time, Percy was sure of what he felt.

Freedom.

Notes:

We've done it! We've made it past where Once Upon A Pointe was abandoned! Chapter eleven is almost complete, and chapter twelve is partially written. I want to make sure chapter twelve is ready to go before I post eleven, because I don't want there to be a huge gap in between those two. Rachel: Girlfriend? [finds out its Annabeth] Fuck, she's beautiful. I wish you two a very happy life together. But you know Annabeth is up in New York just BLASTING Dolly Parton's "Jolene." Went for a slightly more myth-accurate Apollo in this, rather than Rick's "I'm Just Ken" Apollo. Dances mentioned in this chapter: Tarantella: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETBeKIA8x9E Slaughter: (This is from the film "On Your Toes," and Balanchine rechoreographed parts for the stage later) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KFSK5KXSR4A Other Slaughter stage clips: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iJKdtdpYDrY and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rUJYnL_Qwak and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XPpoXLrHLB4 Revelations (full): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kDXerubF4I4&t=584s Wade in the Water: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tW979KNVwIw Flames of Paris: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x_jTPaqztog (first one) Giselle variation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GoG5izkLe-Y Marzipan: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mu4xMFtleUc Serenade: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xd9R9S6-9E4&t=1067s Jewels/Diamonds: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oqYjutRpv6o&t=465s Songs mentioned: I've Got Life, Nina Simone Edge of Seventeen, Stevie Nicks

#this chapter is 18000 words #percabeth #percy jackson #annabeth chase #twice upon a pointe #Youtube #My writing

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