The machine
The next few days went pretty well. Dad had agreed that I should have my own camera for the course, so that another student who might not be able to afford one could have more time with a class camera for his or her own work. "It's too bad that they don't have more cameras, though," he said. "Wayne could probably donate some to the program."
"Not right away, though," I requested, alarmed. A sizeable donation from the Wayne Foundation or even the company itself could draw unwanted attention my way. Dad smiled and said no, it could wait. On Tuesday he had a surprise for me, a really cool prototype from the labs. Dad said that they'd like my notes on how it worked.
It wasn't at all like I was adverse to having a new and fun toy to play with, but I couldn't take a prototype into class without explaining it and I couldn't think of a cover story that sounded legitimate. So right before dance class on Wednesday, I went to a photo supply store and bought a model that the teacher had recommended. It was modestly priced (for a camera that still used external lenses) and was completely unremarkable, a beginner's camera. I'd have to take pictures with the prototype too, so that I could say something when Dad asked for comments. It was kind of doubling my workload, but I didn't want to say anything to Dad because he'd done something really nice and I didn't want to hurt his feelings. Besides, it was more practice. I went to dance with a positive outlook. Classes (barring trig) were shaping up to be interesting, a blessing to the student. And dance was always something I looked forward to. Mr Cal was going to do a little more evaluation of us in class, and announce our roles at the end of it.
I was warmed up and stretching when other students came in; there wasn't much chatter; everybody's school started at the same time and it was kind of wearing to get back into the discipline of classes and new subject matter. Everybody was a little tired. So I was somewhat surprised, when Mr Cal came in, clapped his hands and got us over at the barre to perform our exercises before the evaluation, to see we had some students who hadn't been in the summer class. Specifically, we had five new boys. From Ms Kerry's class. I ran through some curses mentally; I'd heard Uncle Bucky go off when he accidentally hammered his thumb instead of a nail once and had been impressed with the depth and richness of his profanity but didn't dare say any of it aloud myself. At the end of the barre work, Mr Cal called us in to the center. "You might have noticed that we have some new students, and that's great because it allows more of you girls to have partners. I'm sure that you'll all be willing to help them and answer questions if asked. Now, we're going to run through some combinations, and switch partners a few times. Then at the end of class, I'll announce the roles everyone will be dancing in our performance of The Nutcracker, and we'll begin learning choreography next week, so come prepared to learn and be focused. We don't have much time to learn it. I can always dumb it down a little if necessary, however." I wanted to smirk at his blatant manipulation, but he was announcing the first pairings, and I was stuck with Jason, one of the worst boys from my last class. He'd taken special pains to put me down after the party.
"Hey, Lys," he said as we waited for another pair to run through the combination. We were all going to dance the same one, so it would pay to pick it up before I had to dance it.
"Jason." I spoke but kept my eyes on the dancers, evaluating it to see if I could find places to showcase an extension, my turnout, anything to set myself apart from the other girls.
"I'm sorry for being so mean last spring," he said quietly, and I rolled my eyes. I continued watching. Mr Cal gave some notes, and the pair ran it again.
"What do you want, Jason? I'm not going to forgive you, you knew you were being shitty when you did it but you thought it was fun to kick somebody when they were down. I'm surprised you're actually willing to dance with me. You were one of the ones who threatened to quit Ms Kerry's class if you had to, and because of that she kicked me out."
"Mr Cal said that if I wanted to take lessons here I'd dance with whoever he assigned without an attitude."
"Poor thing," I said mockingly. "Well, fortunately I don't have to like you in order to dance with you."
"Lys and Jason," Mr Cal called, and I smiled and stepped out. Apparently Jason hadn't been watching, because I had to endure his mistakes, although I kept the smile on my face. I pretended that he was Miles, although my cousin took dancing very seriously, and that kept me from 'accidentally' kicking him on a turn. Mr Cal had notes for Jason, we ran the combination again, then stepped aside for the next pair. This was repeated a couple more times, then at the end, Mr Cal called us in again.
"None of you kids is blind, and I'm sure you've seen that some of you are more advanced than others, and that some of these more advanced dancers are new to the studio. I realize that there might be some hurt feelings from some of you who have been dancing here longer. You have the opportunity to learn from each other, however. Everybody has something that they do well, and no dancer is ever perfect. I expect that you will be asking questions, trying to improve your own performance, rather than sulking. This is one performance and there will be another next spring, so there is a lot of opportunity to improve and be competitive for the parts you want.
"Now, most of the most important roles will be filled with the students from this class. The performance will be about an hour total, with more of that time in the second act. In the first act, there will be the party scene where Clara gets her nutcracker, then the fight with the Mouse King, and the Waltz of the Snowflakes. These simplified roles will all be performed by students in the lower classes. In the second act, we'll have 'Chocolat', 'Cafe,' and "The", and the boys will perform a version of the Russian dance. Then there will be the Waltz of the Flowers, which will be the only unabridged dance in our ballet and your opportunity to shine as a class. Then there will be a pas de deux with the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier, then the final waltz. Aside from the Nutcracker Prince and Clara, all the roles in the second act will be performed by dancers from this class, so you all will have plenty to do. Now. The Cavalier will be danced by Jake." I kept a pleasant expression on my face as one of my former tormentors got this prize role. "The Sugar Plum Fairy will be danced by Lys." I kept a pleased expression on my face but limited my celebration to an internal party as he announced the dancers for the featured character dances. I didn't want to rub my good fortune in the faces of the girls who hadn't gotten the role they'd wanted.
Once I'd changed and got in my pod to go home, there was a celebration with AI Tony, who seemed to feel that my success had been largely encouraged by his little pep talks, and at home I floated upstairs to drop my backpack and new camera before going down for pre-dinner. "So did you hear about your role in the ballet today?" Dad asked after we'd all been handed our beverages and settled in.
"Sugar Plum Fairy," I beamed.
"Congratulations, honey!" he said. "That's a real achievement."
"It's just a school recital," Deri grumbled. "It's not like she's going onstage for the Bolshoi."
"That's enough, Deri," Mom spoke sternly. "You decided not to do the work that would have advanced you in the classes and quit. Lys did the work, persevered and learned, and she has earned this role. Who will be the Cavalier, Lys?"
"Jake MacCormick," I said, with less enthusiasm.
"Wasn't he in Kerry's class?" Dad asked, frowning. I nodded.
"But Mr Cal won't put up with his attitude, at least," I said. "And he's not as good as Miles, but he's the best of the boys in that class."
"Congratulations, dear," Mom said warmly. "That is a real achievement." I beamed.
"The first act is being performed by the students in the less advanced classes," I said. "So they'll get to have fun roles too. Clara and the Prince will have a little to do in the second act, but mostly it's my class in that one. I'll get a tiny role as Louise in the first act, because the Fairy and the Cavalier are modeled in Clara's imagination on her sister and her boyfriend." What I liked the most about that is that I got a costume change out of it. And the tutus would be beautiful; Mr Cal used the same costumers as Ms Kerry. Deri looked pissed; if she'd stuck with it she could have competed for a role and I knew she was imagining herself as Clara. Ha. She'd never been near the top of her class. Then I answered some questions about school, and they asked Deri about her day, and she brightened up as she described her activities. She thought she might want to go out for swim team, and Mom told her to send her the link so she could sign the permission slip.
The rest of the week passed pleasantly enough (Except for trig, I HATE it so much! And Beowulf is kind of hard to read) with good shifts at work. My off day this weekend was Saturday, and after sleeping in and a leisurely breakfast, I planned to go do some sewing on my bed curtains and then go outside to take my first batch of photos for class. We'd been studying the basics of composition and I was eager to get started. We were supposed to take ten images in nature for Monday. When I opened the door to my sewing room and flicked on the light, I stared in horror. Deri had helped herself to my stuff and my pillow forms were unwrapped and scattered on the table where she'd hacked big squares out of the lining fabric and the facing fabric. On the sewing machine, she'd left a cover in progress under the needle. When I went to investigate, I saw why; the fabric had been driven down into the bobbin case and the needle was broken off. I ran downstairs, but Alan said that Mom had been called to the museum and Dad was down at the stables with Deri and Grandpa Damian. I ran back upstairs and took pictures of the disaster on my communicator before sitting down and straightening out the mess on the machine. It was hard to extricate the fabric and find the piece of the needle that had been broken off down in the bobbin case, and when I tried, I saw that Deri had even managed to damage the connection with the treadle. So I checked it by spinning the flywheel by hand, but it still wouldn't sew. This was a nightmare. I detached the machine from the table and lugged it downstairs, where I put it into my pod and went to the store. On Saturdays, we had technicians who fixed sewing machines come in for our customers' convenience.
When it was my turn, I explained that my little sister had messed it up, showing the pictures I'd taken, closeups of the sewing area on the machine with the fabric wadded up, describing what I'd done to remove the fabric and troubleshoot the problems. The technician listened closely, then hefted the heavy machine up to the table. "I haven't seen an old-fashioned Featherweight in over a decade," she said, pulling up a chair and magnifier before delicately disassembling the machine. "They produce a beautiful stitch. Where did you find it?"
"Up in a relative's attic," I said. "I reconditioned it myself following advice on the internet."
"You did a nice job," she praised, then poked around while I waited anxiously. She sighed and I flinched. "Your little sister couldn't have done more damage if she'd tried," she said. "Apparently she broke two needles, didn't get the broken one out where it was stuck in the bobbin. So the bobbin case is just trashed." She looked at me and shook her head. "I'm really sorry to tell you this, miss, but I don't think that this can be fixed. Like I said, I haven't seen this kind of machine in years, so replacing the parts isn't an option, there isn't a market for them to be purchased. We could try 3D printing, but I'd put the chance of success at about 50%, maybe lower. The process just isn't sensitive enough. It might be possible to commission somebody to make them, but it would cost a lot of money. Hang on a sec, we'll get a second opinion." When another tech finished writing a customer a receipt so that he could take the machine to his shop to do more intensive work, she beckoned him over. He listened to the account of the damage, looked it over himself, and shook his head.
"I've got to agree with Christina, young lady. It's really a shame, these are wonderful machines. I did see one about six years ago, there was a problem with the bobbin although not nearly this bad, and the cost to custom make the parts ran about a thousand dollars. We could do that, or you could buy a really good new one for that price." The two techs put their heads together and came up with a list of recommended manufacturers and models, ranging from the most basic model to the fanciest. I thanked them both and the man went on to the next customer. The lady handed my her card.
"I'm awfully sorry about this," she said compassionately. "It's obvious that you took really good care of it. There are a lot of places where you can buy a machine, but if you come to my store, I'll give you a five percent discount on the purchase of a new or reconditioned machine since I couldn't fix this one." I thanked her and trudged out. Even AI Tony couldn't make me smile on the ride home.