Bryn was in the wings, midstage, using a barre to stretch, when the stage hands lowered the backdrop and the stage manager made her announcement: “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your half-hour call. Half-hour call to top of The Firebird. Please sign in.”
A rush of dancers made their way to the bulletin board backstage to add their names to the sign-in list. Bryn had signed in when he arrived at six fifteen. After that, he’d gone to his dressing room to do his makeup and hair. He had dinner ready to eat, just chicken and rice, very plain, but he’d only been able to swallow a couple of bites. He told himself that was because this was the last night of The Firebird and not because he’d seen the flicker all day long.
Eating light made him feel better in his leo and tights. It made it easier t
