like. As they approached the stable, Andre took a key from his pocket.
‘My mum wants you to paint a sign for over the door.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yeah, she loves your work.’
Tilly felt a burst of happiness, swiftly followed by a pang of sorrow. Why couldn’t her mum be more like Miss Murphy and appreciate the things Tilly could do instead of picking holes in those she couldn’t?
Andre opened the door and flicked a light switch.
‘Oh wow!’ Tilly gazed around the stable. The main wall was exactly as they’d left it, with Tilly’s mural of Il Bello and the street-style bumblebees. But the wall opposite was now fully mirrored and the remaining two walls had been painted white.
‘My mum asked if you’d do some more murals there too,’ Andre said, gesturing at the blank walls.
‘Of course,’ Tilly murmured. She looked up at the ceiling, which now twinkled with mini spotlights, casting a golden glow over the shiny pine floor.
‘So, what do you say we dance out our holiday blues? Have a ’rent vent on the floor?’ Andre said.
Tilly grinned. ‘I say, YEAH!’
Andre went over to the brand new stereo system and put his iPod on.
As the Jack Garratt remix of ‘Photograph’ began to play he dimmed the lights and closed his eyes, his face serious again. Tilly joined him in the middle of the floor and waited for a couple of bars, letting the rhythm of the song work its way inside her body, then they both started freestyling through and around each other. It was as if their bodies were talking to each other, both anticipating and understanding what the other was saying. Expressing the same frustrations. Then, as the music built, they broke away from each other and started dancing to their own flow. Andre started moving robotically but gracefully, as if he were carrying a load of heavy rocks. Tilly vogued with a contemporary twist, her body flowing like a river. As the song came to an end they leaped into a hug.
‘I feel so much better!’ Andre exclaimed.
‘Me too,’ Tilly said and to her horror, she felt tears of relief burning in the corners of her eyes. She blinked hard and turned away. She hated crying, especially in front of other people. She was fiercer than that. She was a fearless flamingo, not a cry-baby.
‘You OK, Tillz?’ Andre asked.
‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Tilly replied quickly.
‘Sei bellisima, Tilly. Always remember that.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It’s “you’re beautiful” in Italian,’ Andre told her.
Tilly’s face flushed. She felt so happy to be back where she belonged, with people who really got her.
‘Speaking of which, we’d better get out of here and get some beauty sleep.’ Andre went over to the stereo and retrieved his iPod. ‘We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow and I’m going to be trialling a new F Dot look.’
Tilly frowned. ‘What does F Dot mean?’
‘First Day of Term, of course. Wait till you see it, Tillz. I got a green Marc Jacobs skull and cross-bones bandana at a thrift store in Brooklyn that’s to die for. And that’s not even an exaggeration, I actually did almost die for it. I was so eager to get to it I pulled the whole shelf down on top of me.’
As Tilly burst out laughing she felt overwhelmed with relief. All of the tension that had built up inside of her over the holiday had been danced and laughed out of her body. She was back at WEDA and this term she was determined not to blow it. She was going to do whatever it took to get her grades up and keep her place there – and she was going to beat her dyslexia once and for all.
The next morning Tilly woke bright and early. She hopped out of bed, being careful not to wake Naomi, who was still burrowed under her duvet, fast asleep, and unrolled her yoga mat on the floor. Tilly liked to stretch and breathe first thing in the morning, checking in with her body, figuring out which muscles needed attention and filling her lungs with new air. The rhythm of her breath, and connecting it to a stretch, was the best way to get rid of any sad cobwebs and start fresh. After dancing with Andre her left hamstring felt a little tight, so she soothed it with some gentle downward-dog stretches, sending her breath to the sore parts of her body and feeling the tension gently release. Then she showered and took her make-up bag down from the shelf. She decided to go for a bright green cat-eye this morning, to celebrate the first day of the new term – or F Dot as Andre called it! She wondered why Andre had been so stressed when he’d first come to see her. She hated thinking of him having a tough time over Christmas, it made her feel really angry. She always got like this when someone she loved was hurting – she was as fierce and protective as a lioness with her cub.
Naomi stretched an arm out of the duvet. ‘What time is it?’ she murmured sleepily.
‘Almost time for breakfast,’ Tilly replied happily. That was another thing she was glad to be back at WEDA for – the amazing food. The chefs in their canteen had a magical ability of making even the healthiest of foods taste delicious.
‘Drat!’ Naomi muttered and burrowed back beneath her duvet. Naomi loved saying ‘drat’. She thought it made her sound distinguished.
‘Come on, you know you want one of those yummy coconut flour pancakes,’ Tilly said. ‘Just think of it, with some fresh, juicy blueberries on top. And a dollop of mascarpone – so creamy and delicious and –’
‘All right, all right, I’m getting up!’ Naomi flung back her duvet. Her dark hair was flattened on one side where she’d been sleeping. ‘I hate these early morning starts,’ she moaned as she shuffled off to their shared bathroom.
Tilly grinned. The only good thing about having a rubbish Christmas break was that it made her so happy to be back at WEDA she didn’t even mind getting up early. ‘I’ll see you in the canteen!’ she called after Naomi. She couldn’t wait any longer, she wanted to see the rest of Il Bello.
The canteen was buzzing with chatter as the other boarders all clustered around tables, catching up on each other’s holidays. Tilly spotted a tall, thin boy in a fedora hat standing at the juice bar.
‘MJ!’ she called as she ran over, fighting the urge to hug him. MJ was autistic and wasn’t a great fan of being touched, or of displays of affection. Like Tilly, he expressed himself best through dance.
MJ turned and gave her a tight smile. ‘Hey, Tilly. How are you?’
‘Great, thanks. So happy to be back here.’
MJ nodded. ‘Me too.’
‘Are any of the rest of the crew here?’ Tilly turned and scanned the canteen.
‘Andre’s still in our room trying to get his hair symmetrical – whatever that means – but Raf’s over there.’ MJ nodded to a table in the corner.
Tilly grinned as she saw Raf looking more tanned and handsome than ever . . . then frowned as she saw Cassandra sitting next to him, giggling and swishing her hair.
‘What’s he doing with the ice queen?’ she asked.
MJ looked at her blankly. He didn’t get metaphors.
‘Cassandra. Why is he sitting with Cassandra?’
MJ shrugged. He hadn’t got into any of the tension that had built up between Tilly, Billie and Cassandra last term. He tended to stay on the sidelines – until it came time to dance. ‘Billie’s just arrived,’ he said nonchalantly, before turning back to the juice bar.
‘What?