The Dance in the Dark. Sophie Cleverly

      We got to our house table, Richmond, and I plonked my tray down.

      Prefect Penny was already there, waving her fork about like she was conducting an invisible orchestra. “It will be simply magical,” she was telling Nadia. “I have to be given the role of Aurora. It was practically made for me.”

      I glared at her. “Really? Because I’m pretty sure I’m the best ballerina here.”

      She turned to me, narrowing her freckle-rimmed eyes. “And, as I expected, Scarlet Grey is already jealous. She knows I’m perfect for the part.”

      I would have jumped across the table and slapped her, if it wasn’t for Ivy jamming her fork into my leg. “Penelope,” I said bitterly. “The day you win the lead role in a ballet over me is the day Queen Victoria herself comes back from the grave and dances the Sugar Plum Fairy.”

      That got a few titters from around the table.

      “Girls,” said Mrs Knight, bringing out her warning tone. “Let’s be sensible, please.”

      Penny turned back to Nadia. “She’s just bluffing,” I heard her say quietly. “She knows she’s not up to scratch.”

      I had to ignore them if I didn’t want a telling-off from Mrs Knight and another fork-stabbing from Ivy. So instead I just wolfed my stew down angrily. What did Penny know, anyway?

      I lay awake that night worrying about Penny’s stupid words.

      Now, I know I shouldn’t have given a jot about the nonsense Penny came out with. But something she’d said had struck a chord.

       She knows she’s not up to scratch.

      It was true. I was out of practice.

      After all, I’d been locked in an asylum for months.

      I shuddered and pulled the sheets up over my shoulders. I didn’t want to think about the asylum again, not now, not ever. It was endless, horrible and dull being trapped there. And worse, the feeling of abandonment, that you were never going to escape …

      I shook my head into the pillow. Those thoughts had to be shut out.

      I looked over at Ivy, wondering if I should wake her and ask her about my chances. She was snoozing peacefully, a half-finished book dangling from her fingertips. Somehow I wasn’t sure if I could. I always felt that I had to be the strong one, no matter how confident she got. And besides, she probably wouldn’t understand. She loved ballet, but not for the same reasons I did.

      For me, it was my dream. It was my ticket to fame and fortune. And I wasn’t about to let anyone take it from me.

      I had to be the best.

      I was going to find a way to beat Penny and win that role.

      Eventually, I don’t know how or when, I fell asleep. And that was when the nightmare came.

       I was on stage, the spotlight pouring on to me. There was no music, but I knew the dance anyway. I leapt and twirled, my limbs flowing gracefully.

       But something was wrong. Someone out there in the darkness was watching me. Out of the corner of my eye, I kept catching a shadow flitting between the seats. In between each silent phrase of the score, it appeared and then vanished again.

       I ground to a halt. I suddenly became aware that the theatre was full of people, all staring at me with blank faces. None of them could see the shadow as it passed behind them.

       I shielded my eyes from the spotlight. “Who’s there?” I called.

       The shadow didn’t reply. It was lurking, hiding. A person made of smoke, not flesh.

       I looked around. I had stopped mid-performance. And now I couldn’t remember where to start again.

       From all around me came the sound of hissing.

       It was the audience, I realised. They were hissing at me like snakes.

       “No,” I tried to say. “It’s not my fault. I’m a good dancer! But there’s something watching me! Can’t you see it?”

       The hissing got louder and louder, until it was deafening.

       “No!” I yelled, and clamped my hands over my ears.

       The shadow swooped out from behind a seat, and began to stalk towards me.

       And that was when I toppled from the stage, and into the blackness below.

      

       Chapter Three

       IVY

      If there was one thing Scarlet hated, it was not being the centre of attention.

      I’d had my taste of the spotlight when I was forced by Miss Fox to pretend to be my twin for a term at Rookwood School, and I’d found it exhausting. It brought stares and gossip and trouble. Especially from people like Penny.

      But it hadn’t been all bad. For the first time in my life I’d changed things and made things happen, and I had even made a real friend of my own. I’d felt noticed, like I was no longer just a reflection of my twin.

      So the centre of attention was a nice place to visit, but I wasn’t certain I wanted to live there.

      The moment they announced the ballet recital, I knew Scarlet was going to obsess over the lead role. It was her chance to prove to everyone what she was worth, not just to our fellow pupils but to the teachers and parents and – just maybe, as she excitedly told me on the way to lessons that morning – potential ballet talent scouts. I honestly had no idea if there even was such a thing, let alone whether or not they came to school performances.

      “I’m telling you,” said Scarlet, “I’m the best ballerina in the school. Penny’s nonsense doesn’t faze me. She’s like a parrot.”

      I wrinkled my nose. “Colourful and feathery?”

      “No, you clod!” Scarlet shot back, giving me a jab in the arm. “She’s all squawk. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Not up to scratch. Pah!”

      Scarlet was definitely protesting too much. She’d been yelling in her sleep, and I’d had a feeling she was dreaming about the auditions. Now I was worried too. The last thing I needed was for her rivalry with Penny to flare up again.

      “I’m sure you could fit in some extra practice somewhere,” I said.

      Scarlet came to an abrupt stop outside the English classroom. “Practice?”

      “That is traditionally how people do well at things,” I pointed out.

      “I don’t need practice!” Scarlet snapped. “I’ll wipe the floor with Penny. You’ll see.”

      Our English teacher, Miss Charlett, peered out of the classroom door. “No wiping the floor with anyone, please,” she said. “Come in, girls. You’ll be pleased to hear we’re beginning Oliver Twist today!”

      I smiled, but Scarlet just rolled her eyes.

      Behave, I mouthed at her, for all the good it would do. My sister’s mind was firmly set on defeating Penny, and toeing the line was the last thing she cared about.

      As if to prove