"Can you describe the feeling of being named this year's Prima Ballerina of the Imperial Academy of Performing Arts?" The school magazine reporter extended the microphone towards Izabella Prudence Ashworth, eager to hear her response.
Mid-stroke, as she applied the final touch to her makeup, the girl with dark blond hair and greenish-blue eyes paused, a dazzling smile blooming on her face.
"Receiving this prestigious title is both a humbling honor and a source of immense gratitude. I vow to dedicate myself to upholding the high expectations of my instructors and schoolmates, and to strive to represent our school with distinction."
The school magazine reporter nodded her head vigorously.
"A perfect answer, coming from our exceptionally talented Miss Ashworth! We eagerly anticipate her future breakthroughs!"
Once the reporter made her exit, the other dancers quickly flocked towards Izabella like a group of excited hens.
Some of them were genuinely happy for Izabella, "Gosh, Izabella, congratulations again! I am sooo jealous of you."
Some of them did not think that Izabella was as good as others believed, "Aren't you lucky that Lucille was hurt a week before the award was presented? Otherwise, maybe you wouldn't be here to perform at the Graduation Gala at all."
Izabella was accustomed to such snippy remarks. The urge to retaliate with sharp retorts occasionally surfaced, but tonight, she chose the high road.
Her best friend, Miranda Cooper, on the other hand, was not as forgiving.
She whipped around with both hands pressing at her sides, her eyes blazing in fury.
"Maybe Lucille was the lucky one because she got away with such a convenient excuse. Wouldn't it be too embarrassing to lose to Izabella year after year?"
"Miranda Cooper, if you don't watch your mouth, maybe you wouldn't be as lucky!"
"Oh, really!"
Miranda mimicked the gesture of hiking up her sleeves to fight. Never mind that they were all wearing sleeveless tutus.
"Why don't you come at me then…!"
"ENOUGH!"
The stern voice cut through the air, making the dancers' hearts leap into their throats. The Head Instructor of the Academy's ballet department, Madam Arnault, emerged from the doorway, her presence preceded by the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of her cane against the polished floor.
"Always fighting with each other like a flock of geese, and that was certainly not a compliment!" she hollered.
Feeling responsible for the ruckus, Izabella rose to her feet and approached Madam Arnault.
"Madam, we are deeply sorry for the disturbance. We will focus on our upcoming performance."
Madam Arnault scoffed.
"As you should. Scatter, girls, I need to talk to Izabella alone."
The other dancers did not need to be told twice. They quickly complied, not without throwing the Head Instructor and Izabella a bunch of curious looks.
After the door closed, Madam Arnault turned to look at Izabella.
"Congratulations on achieving the title of Prima Ballerina of the Year, Izabella."
Izabella tilted her head forward in thanks.
"Thank you, Madam Arnault."
The Head Instructor pulled out an envelope from her coat pocket and handed it to her.
"As promised, one flight ticket and a signed recommendation letter from me to take to Russia's Bolshoi Ballet Academy."
With trembling hands, Izabella accepted the envelope. Her lips were pressed together, desperately trying to contain the emotions that brewed in her pupils.
Madam Arnault couldn't help but crack a smile. She had already sent off many talented students for intensive ballet programs overseas. It was always an emotional moment for the students whenever they received one of these coveted envelopes from her hands.
The same went for Izabella.
"Thank you, Madam," was all she could say to express the gratitude overflowing in her heart. She knew that she would be jumping up and down the first second she was left alone, but for now she needed to radiate the grace and elegance of a Prima Ballerina.
"Well then."
Madam Arnault patted Izabella on the back, but the gesture felt more like she was dusting off Izabella's shoulder.
"That's all I am here for. Good luck, Miss Ashworth. I shall see you off at the airport."
Two more people appeared unexpectedly as soon as Madam Arnault left, preventing Izabella from enjoying her moment of triumph in private.
It was Lucille Kingsley, her stepsister, and Rickard Wellington, her "almost" boyfriend.
"Almost" boyfriend because they were in love with each other for a long time, but they were not allowed to date before graduation.
It was all going to change after tonight.
After tonight, they could finally become an official couple.
Funnily, when Lucille and Rickard showed up together like this, arms linked together intimately, most people would assume that they were a couple.
Never mind the constant twitching of Rickard's left eye and the sweaty hands holding the bouquet of red roses he bought for Izabella.
Lucille, on the other hand, did not seem to mind at all. If anything, she seemed to relish the public display of intimacy, however erroneous other people's perceptions might be.
"Iza," she called out sweetly as she tightened her hold around Rickard's arm.
"Look whom I found lurking in the backstage area!"
Rickard cleared his throat awkwardly.
With brisk determination, he disengaged himself from Lucille before walking over to Izabella.
"Izzie," he looked at her, unbidden affection pooling in the depth of his dark brown eyes, "I want to be the first person to hand you a bouquet upon your mesmerizing performance tonight."
Izabella's lips curved into a shy smile.
"Mesmerizing? I haven't even danced yet."
A nervous smile bloomed across Rickard's round face.
"You are going to mesmerize everyone. I just knew it."
"Ahem."
Lucille was neither accustomed to nor interested in becoming the third wheel.
"So… we met Madam Arnault on our way just now."
Her eyes shifted toward the envelope in Izabella's hands.
"Can I take a look, Iza?"
Lucille held out her hand in Izabella's direction.
Izabella narrowed her eyes at the other girl's extended hand.
Having been thrust into each other's lives for almost a decade now, Izabella was understandably reserved around Lucille.
Lucille never hesitated to openly express her displeasure when Izabella got something she didn't.
It usually manifested in the form of a missing doll, a torn-up dress, or a stolen shoe.
But even Lucille wouldn't dare do something as obnoxious as tearing off the plane ticket and the recommendation letter, right?
Madam Arnault was known to be intolerant of such foul practices among her students.
Bearing that last consideration in mind, Izabella ended up handing over the envelope to Lucille.
"Wow."
Lucille's mouth formed a huge O as she marveled over Madam Arnault's recommendation letter. Lines and lines of praises, all of them written neatly to describe Izabella's amazing talent and years of achievements as a ballet dancer, a testament to her resilience, dedication, and hard work from a young age.
"Madam Arnault likes you a lot," she commented, a hint of jealousy coloring her words.
"Madam Arnault likes every single one of her students," Izabella corrected Lucille before she took the envelope and its contents back from Lucille's hands. "She appreciates talent combined with hard work, and judges everyone fairly."
Lucille had to use every ounce of self-restraint in her body to not roll her eyes and say, "Yeah, right."
She disagreed with Izabella completely.
She, too, was talented.
She, too, worked hard.
But Madam Arnault had only ever mentioned Izabella in her classes, asking everyone to be more like Izabella.
When was she going to speak highly about Lucille in a similar fashion?
Probably never.
So how was she a fair judge again?
"Anyway, Rickard was running around like a headless chicken just now, and I have done my part by bringing him here to meet you. I am going back to my seat now. Bye."
Lucille left the dancer preparation room with a seething heart and two clenched fists.
The front rows of the audience section were reserved for teaching faculty and family members of dancers.
Lucille had to scan through the sea of faces until she spotted her stepfather and mother waving at her from the middle of the second row.
"Lucille, where have you been?" her mother, Lucinda Lane, asked with a slight frown once her daughter arrived. "I have been searching for you everywhere."
Lucille took her seat with a scowl directed at a particular person backstage.
"Just taking a walk, nothing special."
"Have you seen Iza around?" Charles Ashworth, Izabella's biological father and Lucille's stepfather asked.
"No," Lucille lied. "She must be busy preparing for her dance. No time to meet people."
Lucinda inhaled sharply.
"Why, family members are more than just 'people'," she noted with a hint of reproach.
"Now, now, leave Iza alone," Charles said.
Lucinda took pleasure in highlighting Izabella's imperfections, however insignificant.
Charles, on the other hand, did not.
"Tonight's her night. She deserves it after years of hard work."
Upon hearing Charles' words, the mother and daughter next to him exchanged a round of sour looks. Was Charles intentionally trying to downplay Lucille's efforts, or what?
Whatever it was, it didn't really matter.
Lucille was still getting what she wanted, one way or another.
The Graduation Gala featured performances by the most talented graduates from each discipline at the Imperial Academy of Performing Arts.
The ballet division was set to deliver several acts of "Swan Lake", featuring Izabella in the leading role of Princess Odette.
The first act had barely finished when Lucinda suddenly doubled over, clutching her stomach and groaning in agony.
Brows furrowed in concern, Charles put his arm around Lucinda and asked, "Honey, is everything alright?"
"I don't know," Lucinda winced. "My stomach hurts… ow, ow, ow… It must be food poisoning."
"Mom? Mom, are you alright?" Lucille's voice rose in feigned panic.
They were getting too loud, and attracting too much attention.
Heads turned, eyes following, as attention shifted from the stage to the three people.
Charles dragged his wife to her feet and whispered to Lucille, "We need to get out of here first. We should not disturb others."
He especially did not want to cast a shadow on Izabella's special night.
The three people thus left the hall quietly.
But once they got outside, Lucinda practically lost all strength in her legs. If not for Charles holding her steady, she might have toppled over already.
"This is not good," Charles murmured. "Let's go to the hospital now."
Lucille swiftly pulled out her phone and summoned their driver. Within five minutes, they were speeding towards the nearest hospital.
Unfortunately for them, the emergency room was currently overflowing with patients.
"There was a landslide incident nearby an hour ago," a nurse informed them while checking Lucinda's vitals. "Three cars were buried. Five people have already been evacuated and brought to the hospital. We are currently awaiting the arrival of one or two more patients."
Charles let out an exasperated huff.
He reached out and tenderly stroked Lucinda's hair.
"How are you feeling now, Dear? Better?"
"Only slightly," Lucinda groaned. "Please stay with me, don't go anywhere."
Charles looked at his wristwatch and muttered, "The Gala is about to end. I should at least go back and pick Iza up."
"No, don't," Lucinda wailed. "I am scared. Don't leave me alone."
With tears welling up in her eyes, she clawed into Charles' arm in desperation.
"Alright, alright," Charles sighed. "In that case, let me give Whittaker a call. He should take the other car and pick Iza up."
Whittaker was the Ashworth family's butler.
Lucinda and Lucille exchanged meaningful glances, their lips curving into smug smiles. Then, with practiced ease, they both looked away, their expressions quickly returning to neutral.
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Author's note :
Welcome to yet another work of mine, dear readers (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
This author wishes you a great journey as you accompany Izabella on her path to finding her true love.