“Would you mind if I took a look at the current class list?” Nancy asked.
“Of course not.” Madame took a piece of paper out of her desk drawer. “But why are you so interested?”
Nancy hesitated as she looked over the list. She didn’t want to alarm Madame unnecessarily. “I found the handkerchief backstage. Near the curtain where the fire started.”
Madame’s brows raised in concern. “Do you think the person who started the fire may have dropped the handkerchief?”
“It’s possible.” Nancy gave the list back to the directress. There was no one on it with the initials G.T.
Madame frowned. “I’m sure it was just a careless student—or parent. It must have been someone who knows how strict I am about smoking, so the person hid backstage.”
“You’re probably right,” Nancy said, nodding. “I’ll hang on to this, if you don’t mind.” She slipped the handkerchief back into her pocket. “Maybe someone will come looking for it.” With that, Nancy excused herself and returned to the prop room.
For the next two hours, Nancy worked on dressing up the shiny glass balls she’d brought from home with glitter, lace, and sequins. She had just decided to take a break when she heard music coming from the recital hall. Walking to the door that led to the backstage area, Nancy quietly opened it and peeked up the stairs.
Madame Dugrand, Darci, Lawrence, and several of the older students were on stage. It was obviously a rehearsal, and Nancy thought it would be fun to watch for a few minutes. Slipping into the room, she headed toward the front row of seats in the recital hall and sat down.
“I want you to dance the pas de deux full out,” Madame Dugrand told Lawrence. “Where’s Shana?”
“Over here,” Shana said, entering from offstage. Madame Dugrand went to the side of the stage to rewind the tape. While the directress’s back was turned, Nancy saw Shana shoot Lawrence an apprehensive look. Nancy could hardly blame her after the near-accident the day before.
Lawrence raised his brows as if to say, “So what’s your problem?” Immediately, Shana’s apprehensive look turned into an icy glare.
Nancy looked around for Darci. Shana’s younger sister had melted into the shadows of the backstage curtain. The other students were talking quietly, but Darci stood with folded arms, her green eyes riveted on Lawrence and Shana.
If Madame Dugrand noticed the tension in the air, she gave no indication. As soon as she had the tape player going, she walked to the front of the stage and clapped her hands. Shana and Lawrence found their marks, the places on the stage where they were to stand when the dance started.
At first, the couple moved hesitantly, as if they were afraid to touch each other. But as the music continued, it seemed to cast its spell on the two of them, and they began to move in synchronized harmony.
When it was time for the difficult lift that Lawrence had flubbed the day before, Nancy held her breath. This time, however, he raised his graceful partner with ease. As he turned slowly with Shana high above his head, Madame Dugrand and the other dancers applauded . . . all but Darci Edwards.
With an angry frown, Shana’s sister threw her towel around her shoulders and stomped offstage. Then, she leaped down the stage steps and stormed up the aisle of the recital hall, banging the doors behind her.
“Bravo! Very nice!” Madame declared, smiling approvingly as Lawrence set Shana down. Still clapping, the other students came forward and surrounded the couple. Suddenly, Nancy realized that it was starting to snow onstage—not just a few flakes, but a regular blizzard.
“What on earth?” Madame looked up as a blur of snowflakes fluttered from offstage.
“It’s the snow machine!” one of the students yelled.
“Well, someone turn it off!” Throwing her hands into the air, Madame started forward.
“I’ll do it,” Lawrence said quickly.
By then, a thin layer of “snow” had begun to accumulate onstage.
“I can’t believe this,” said Madame, shaking her head. “What else is going to go wrong?”
Lawrence hurried across the stage. Suddenly, his feet slipped out from under him. Lurching sideways, he fell into Madame Dugrand, knocking her backward.
With a gasp, Nancy jumped up. “Madame!” she cried. But it was too late. The directress flew off the stage, dropping several feet to the floor of the recital hall!
7
Big Preparations
Nancy rushed to Madame’s side. The directress was sprawled on the wooden floor, her arms and legs jutting out at odd angles. Her eyes were closed. Lawrence jumped from the stage and kneeled next to Nancy.
When Nancy looked up, she saw Shana and the other dancers staring from the edge of the stage, concerned expressions on their faces. Behind them, snow continued to fall onto the stage floor.
“Don’t move her,” Nancy cautioned. “Shana, call nine-one-one.”
“Wait,” Lawrence said as Madame’s lids began to flutter open. “Madame, are you all right?”
Madame stared up at him. “Yes,” she replied, sounding dazed. “What happened? What am I doing here?” she asked, struggling up on her elbows.
Nancy put her hands gently on the directress’s shoulders. “Madame,” she said. “Please don’t move. You might have broken something.”
“Nonsense.” Madame sat up and gave her arms a shake.
Lawrence gently checked Madame’s knees and calves. Holding her ankle up, he rotated first one foot, and then the other. “Any pain?” he asked.
Madame shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said. “Now help me up,” she added, holding out her hand to Lawrence. “After twenty-five years of training as a ballerina I think I’d know if I was hurt.”
Taking the directress’s hand, Lawrence lifted her to her feet. Supporting Madame’s other arm, Nancy stood up next to her.
“What happened, anyway?” Madame asked as she brushed off her long skirt.
“Ask Lawrence,” a low voice said, in an accusing tone. Nancy looked up at the stage. Shana was staring down at them, her hands on her hips. Her green eyes snapped angrily and her lips were pressed in a thin line. “Lawrence bumped into you on purpose and knocked you off the stage,” Shana said.
