Niels had always been “that” father. You know… the one who threatened all potential boyfriends and dove into rage when a random guy even cast a glance in Emi’s general direction. It wasn’t that Emi never took her father’s warnings seriously, and it definitely wasn’t that she didn’t listen… she simply thought he was exaggerating.
Then there was Antoine. He was quite handsome with his dark eyes and sandy brown hair. Emi felt different around him that she’d ever felt around anyone else. She got butterflies in her stomach, and the whole giggle phenomena. It was embarrassing just how incoherent she became around him, but eventually she started to grow accustomed to his presence. He gave her excuses to escape Anne-Laure and leave the dorm room for a while. They visited on-campus movies, and games in Antoine’s rooms. He complimented her, told her she was the best dancer at the academy. Emi was getting sucked into the vortex of romance when a bright light came on. She started to recognise the looks on the other girls’ faces when Antoine spoke to them. She She started to notice the slightest brush of his hand against his when he walked by, or the fleeting gaze laced with flirtation. He was a player. A dreamy, handsome, French player, but one nonetheless. Hadn’t it been guys like him who her dad had warned her about? Feeling incredibly stupid, Emi retreated to her dorm room and put earbuds in her ears to block out Anne-Laure’s constant chatter. She made a silent vow to herself to stay focused on dance. Not on friends and certainly not on guys. She came to Paris to dance and that was all she was going to do.
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Anne-Laure was like a pesky pet that Emi couldn’t get rid of. Emi wasn’t sure how to feel when she learned that Anne-Laure was her roommate. After all, she'd heard the whispers in the hallway.
Other students avoided Anne-Laure because she talked too much, had weird habits and revealed way too much personal information. The last thing Emi ever wanted to hear was about Anne-Laure’s weak stomach or sex life. One evening, Emi tossed on a hoodie and some sweatpants and hurried out of her dorm room before Anne-Laure could protest. It felt good to get away from Anne-Laure’s constant chatter. The further Emi walked down the hallway, the louder and louder the music grew. Moments later, she heard running footsteps and loud laughter coming from behind her. She turned to see what was happening, and as she noticed the two girls playing an immature game of catch, and suddenly she collided with someone. Losing her balance, she yelped, but felt someone’s hand wrap around her arm. “Whoa…” Emi looked at the person she’d collided with. A guy with the lightest grey eyes she’d ever seen. They were almost unbelievable. “Désolé.” She was prepared to just hurry away, but the guy stopped her. “C’est bon. Je suis Antoine.” Emi smiled. “Emilia,” she said. “Enchanté.” She was about to leave but Antoine called her back, inviting her to the party just beyond the door where he was standing. Emi hesitated, not sure if it was a good idea. For one, she’d never gone to a college party. On TV they seemed like bad news. But… she’d never know unless she tried, would she. “Okay,” she said in practiced French. “I’ll come in, but not for long.” For the longest while, Emilia stood in front of the Centre Danse du Marais. It wasn’t her dream school, but it was still amazing to be standing there, in Paris, France, in front of the place that would be her home for the summer. Emi felt bad to have left her family so suddenly, but she hadn’t expected to get into the ballet school. She’d sent an application for the dance intensive and had been sent a request to submit a video audition, and voila! She’d been accepted into the summer intensive programme.
It was a small step to achieve her dream of one day being a principal dancer at the Opéra national de Paris, but it was a step nonetheless. Emi had once fluently spoken French, but that was so long ago. Sure, she’d taken classes, but it wasn’t often that she spoke conversational French. Stepping through the doors of the Centre Danse du Marais was like walking into the Twilight Zone. It seemed like everyone was talking gibberish around her, but she soon realised that it was the nervousness getting the best of her and she switched the focus of her brain. She approached the front desk with a friendly smile, contrary to the not-so-friendly face waiting to greet her. The woman look like some had played a really bad prank on her just before she came to work. “Bonjour,” said Emi. She was about to say more but the woman interrupted. “Puis-je vous aider?” “Uhm…” Emi quickly removed the documents from the large envelope she held in her hand. It was her acceptance letter. She nervously handed it to the woman. “Papiers?” Emi grabbed her wallet from her bag and struggled for a moment to get her ID card out. She handed it to the woman and tried to keep from nervously bouncing on her feet. Moments later, she was directed to a classroom. A very large classroom filled with students who seemed way too good to be there. Emi’s jaw dropped. She was still busy staring when someone nudged her. “Ça va? On dirait que tu as vu un fantôme.” “Huh? Uhm…” Emi looked at the girl and rubbed her head, trying to recall her French. Just as she was about to reply, the girl chuckled. “English?” Her own English was accented. “Sorry. I’m Anne-Laure. You look like you can use a friend.” Emi’s body language physically relaxed. She smiled, a little embarrassed. “Hi Anne-Laure. I’m Emilia. My French is usually better but I’m really nervous.” “C'est bon. We’ll work on it.” The very Asian-looking girl grabbed her arm and already started dragging her, babbling on about where the lockers were and such. Emi was curious about the girl. Maybe if they really did become friends, Emi would figure out a polite way to ask her why she looked Asian, had a French name and spoke the language perfectly. She wondered if she was as much of a puzzle to the girl as she girl was to her. Only time would tell, she figured. |
Emilia at a glanceNames: Emilia Paris van Loon Archives
April 2017
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