Who: Alicia Webb and a few San Francisco Ballet NPCs What: A ballet company's worst nightmare: the Sugar Plum Fairy is sick. Where: The San Francisco Ballet When: 3:00 PM, December 23, 2010. Warnings: Mild crazy? Or not so mild...
Alicia doesn't meant to eavesdrop, but the panicked whispers are inescapable. Something's happened. She listens.
"Greg, we've got a problem."
She hears a groan. "What now?"
"Melanie's boyfriend just called. She has... fuck, what was it... appendicitis or some shit. Greg, we – we have no Sugar Plum Fairy for tonight's performance."
"Calm down, Mark. We'll just have Betsy do it. She's the alternate."
"No, Betsy can't do it. Her knee gave out last night. She can barely plié without collapsing." Silence. Alicia peeks around the corner. Greg is pale. "I told you we have a problem."
"Who the fuck – who the fuck decided we only needed one alternate for the Fairy?!" No, not pale. Livid. Hysterical.
"... You did."
"Shut up. What about Lily? Can she do it?"
"No, she's..."
The voices fade. Alicia closes her eyes. Nina speaks. I can do it.
"I can do it."
Her voice is small, but they hear, and they stare. She stares back. One of them laughs. "Alicia, you're just a flower. You're not even a solo–"
"I can do it." Alicia repeats. Or is it Nina? Nina. Her eyes are dangerous. "I know the dance. I can do it."
Greg inspects her carefully, noticing her for the first time. Mark looks nervous. Finally, the director speaks. "Go find Alexei. Practice the Pas de Deux. You have four and a half hours to be perfect. Do not disappoint me."
She smiles, not quite herself. "I won't." She walks away and passes her reflection in a mirror. It follows her and grins.