Allegra
122 pages
English

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122 pages
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Description

Allegra thinks being at a performing-arts high school will change her life and make her a better dancer.


But high school is still high school, complete with cliques, competition and cruelty. Allegra's refuge comes in the form of a class she doesn't want to take—music theory, taught by a very young, very attractive male teacher. Soon all Allegra can think about is music composition—and Mr. Rochelli. But has she misunderstood his attention, or is he really her soul mate?


Sujets

Informations

Publié par
Date de parution 01 avril 2013
Nombre de lectures 2
EAN13 9781459801998
Langue English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0604€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Allegra
SHELLEY HRDLITSCHKA
ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
Text copyright 2013 Shelley Hrdlitschka
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Hrdlitschka, Shelley, 1956- Allegra [electronic resource] / Shelley Hrdlitschka.
Electronic monograph. Issued also in print format. ISBN 978-1-4598-0198-1 ( PDF ).-- ISBN 978-1-4598-0199-8 ( EPUB )
I. Title. PS 8565.R44 A 64 2013 j C 813 .54 C 2012-907455-1
First published in the United States, 2013 Library of Congress Control Number : 2012952952
Summary : Allegra wants to dance, but when her music-theory teacher insists she undertake a composition project, their collaboration brings unforeseen changes in both their lives.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Design by Teresa Bubela Cover photography by Getty Images and dreamstime.com Author photo by Leslie Thomas ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS PO B OX 5626, Stn. B PO B OX 468 Victoria, BC Canada Custer, WA USA V 8 R 6 S 4 98240-0468
www.orcabook.com
16 15 14 13 4 3 2 1
In memory of a gentle soul and voracious reader, Rachel Marie Sharman, 1990 - 2009
Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Acknowledgments
O ne
Ms. Jennings taps her fingers on the desk as I glance at my course-selection sheet.
English 12
History 12
Modern Dance Technique (Senior)
Visual Arts (Senior)
Choreography (Senior)
Ballet (Senior)
Hip-Hop/Jazz (Senior)
Music Theory 11 - 12
There s a mistake here. I push the sheet back across the desk.
There is? Snatching the paper, she runs her eyes down the list. Everything looks in order to me.
I don t need to take any music classes, remember? I just want dance classes, and whatever academics I still need to graduate. I did math and biology in summer school to get them out of the way. My mom and I talked to you about this last spring, when I registered.
Ah, yes, she says, leaning back in her chair and whipping off her glasses. Allegra. Allegra Whitford. You re the girl who has completed all the levels in the National Music Academy. Your mother is the harpist in the Deer Lake Symphony Orchestra and your father is
Bass player for the group Loose Ends.
Right. Loose Ends. I think I ve heard of them. She sits up straighter. What you ll need to do, then, is go see Mr. Rocchelli, the music-theory teacher. Explain your situation to him. Then get his signature on a Drop form. She hands me the form and a map of the school, then stands up, dismissing me.
I stay seated. Why don t you just take me out of it now and put me in another dance class?
Sorry. School rules. She moves to the door of her office. Without his permission to drop the class, your records will show that you simply didn t complete it.
That s stupid. I get to my feet.
Her eyebrows arch, and then she glances at the wall clock. You ll find him in portable number four, at the back of the building. You ve got time to get out there now and see him before the start of classes.
And once he s signed off on it?
Come back here at lunchtime. We ll see what dance classes are offered in that block.
I brush past her in the doorway and am just about through the main office when I hear her say, If there are any.
What? I turn back, but another student is already following her into the small room.
Disappointment nudges aside the anxiety I m feeling about being here. I d had such high hopes for Deer Lake School for the Fine and Performing Arts. Because it s a high school for the arts, I d assumed the counselors would be more creative, more energetic and just generally nicer than the ones from Maple Creek High, my previous school. Ms. Jennings seems as burned-out as any other teacher. Not a good sign.
I find my way to portable four, which is behind the school. The door s ajar, so I peek into the room. There s a guy on the far side, opening and shutting cupboards, probably checking inventory. His back is to the door. I know it s the right room-the chairs and music stands are set out, ready for rehearsal-but this can t be Mr. Rocchelli. From the back, anyway, he looks like a student, in faded jeans and a T-shirt.
I clear my throat. Excuse me
He jumps, startled, and whirls around. His sudden reaction surprises me, and I step back, but not before I notice that he looks a little older from the front, probably in his early to mid-twenties.
Sorry, I say. I didn t mean to scare you. I m looking for Mr. Rocchelli.
He clutches at his chest. I think my heart stopped for a moment there. He laughs. Can you imagine what a dramatic start to the term that would be? I can see the headlines: New teacher dies of heart attack before first class . He chuckles again, and that s when I notice the dimples in his cheeks. I m Mr. Rocchelli. And you are?
So it is him. I step farther into the classroom. I m Allegra Whitford. I m here to-
Allegra! He looks pleased. What a great name. In music, the term allegro means lively, with a happy air. Does that describe you? His smile lights up his face.
I think that s what my parents were hoping when they named me.
And?
I let them down.
He studies me, his smile fading. Oh. Well, then, what can I do for you, Allegra?
I approach him, holding out the Drop form. I just need you to sign this form giving me permission to drop your music-theory class.
His eyebrows spring up. Why would you want to drop my class? Have I already offended you? The smile is back, along with the dimples.
No, it s just that I don t need it. I ve been studying music for years. I want to take extra dance classes.
Ah, you re a dancer. He takes the form, scans it and then passes it back to me.
But you haven t signed it.
I don t intend to.
But if you don t, it will appear on my records that I didn t complete your class.
Then I guess you ll have to complete it.
I can t decide if he s joking around again. I want to take a dance class in this block.
I see that you already have four dance classes on your schedule, he says. This is a fine and performing arts school, Allegra, not a dance school. You need to take my music-theory class to bring balance to your schedule. You know that balance is important in dance, right? It s important in life too. And at school.
I sigh. I ve already completed all the levels in the National Music Academy. I talked to Ms. Jennings and she s okay with it too. Please just sign the form.
I m aware that I haven t concealed my irritation very well, but he s being so annoying.
That s great that you ve mastered the National Music Academy curriculum, he says way too enthusiastically. And if that s the case, I ll design your assignments to challenge you. There s always something new to learn. I can explain that to Ms. Jennings.
But I m not interested in any more music theory, I tell him. I want to dance!
He turns away, but not before I notice the clench of his jaw. He continues opening and closing cupboard doors. I expect to see you here in block seven, Allegra, he says over his shoulder. And I promise you this. He turns to look at me again. My class will challenge you and quite possibly help you with your dance too.
A bell rings, announcing the start of classes. I hear students entering the room, but my eyes remain locked with Mr. Rocchelli s, challenging him. The classroom fills with that back-to-school buzz. I break eye contact and turn away, fighting the urge to slam the door as I return to the main building. This school isn t going to be any better than the last one.
T wo
New here?
I turn and look at the girl sitting at the next desk. Her brown skin is flawless, like her eye makeup. Her hair has been braided into perfect cornrows, and I wonder if she has extensions. Uh-huh. I open my notebook to the first page and lay my pen along the spine.
What s your focus?
Dance. In my peripheral vision I see that her dark eyes are sizing me up, all of me, and I don t like it.
How d you like Ms. Dekker?
Ms. Dekker is the dance teacher. I met her in first block, but we only talked about her expectations. We start dancing tomorrow. I shrug and allow my own gaze to check my classmate out, noting the slight bulge at the waistband of her jeans. Clearly she s not a dancer. She seems okay.
You just wait. She pulls a pen out of her backpack and places it beside a decorated binder.
Wait for what?
A small smile tugs at her mouth. You ll see. She turns to face the front of the room, just as the teacher arrives. I stare at her another moment before turning to face forward myself. I make a mental note to sit somewhere else when English class comes around again.

I have to shoulder my way through the crowded hallway to get back to the office. Lockers bang open and kids reach inside them to grab their lunches. The energy is tangible, and it ricochets off the walls as classmates who haven t seen each other all summer greet one another. Inside the office it s much quieter, but a long line of students snakes around the room. It looks as if everyone is waiting to speak to Ms. Jennings, who is standing behind the main counter. I take my place at the end of the line and think about what I ll say to her. I have to be convincing when I explain that Mr. Rocchelli is dead wrong, that staying in his class is a total waste of my time and that she needs to make an exception for me. It s imperat

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