Phantom's Dance
by Lesa Howard
Release Date: 03/01/14
Summary from Goodreads:
Christine Dadey’s
family uprooted their lives and moved to Houston for her to attend the
prestigious Rousseau Academy of Dance. Now, two years later, Christine
struggles to compete among the Academy’s finest dancers, her parents are on the
brink of divorce, and she’s told no one about her debilitating performance
anxiety and what she’s willing to do to cope with it.
Erik was a ballet prodigy, a savant, destined to be a star on the world’s stage, but a suspicious fire left Erik’s face horribly disfigured. Now, a lonely phantom forced to keep his scars hidden, he spends his nights haunting the theater halls, mourning all he’s lost. Then, from behind the curtain he sees the lovely Christine. The moldable, malleable Christine.
Drawn in by Erik’s unwavering confidence, Christine allows herself to believe Erik’s declarations that he can transform her into the dancer she longs to be. But Christine’s hope of achieving her dreams may be her undoing when she learns Erik is not everything he claims. And before long, Erik’s shadowy past jeopardizes Christine’s unstable present as his obsession with her becomes hopelessly entangled with his plans for revenge.
Erik was a ballet prodigy, a savant, destined to be a star on the world’s stage, but a suspicious fire left Erik’s face horribly disfigured. Now, a lonely phantom forced to keep his scars hidden, he spends his nights haunting the theater halls, mourning all he’s lost. Then, from behind the curtain he sees the lovely Christine. The moldable, malleable Christine.
Drawn in by Erik’s unwavering confidence, Christine allows herself to believe Erik’s declarations that he can transform her into the dancer she longs to be. But Christine’s hope of achieving her dreams may be her undoing when she learns Erik is not everything he claims. And before long, Erik’s shadowy past jeopardizes Christine’s unstable present as his obsession with her becomes hopelessly entangled with his plans for revenge.
About the Author
I'm not the typical author. I didn't always enjoy reading or writing. While in school, I found it to be a chore I'd just as soon skip. I would rather have been daydreaming, my favorite past time. It wasn’t until I grew up and didn’t have to, that I realized reading was fun. I soon discovered that reading fueled my daydreaming. So, remembering a short story I'd written in high school, I began imagining expanding that story into a book. Before long I found I had loads of ideas for not just the short story but other books and stories as well. Fast forward a few years, a lot of studying about writing, practicing my writing, studying some more, taking classes from people who knew what they were doing, studying and practicing yet more, and ta-dah, author! In the same way I had learned I loved reading, I learned I loved writing, too. It’s just that writing is a lot harder than reading.
I'm not the typical author. I didn't always enjoy reading or writing. While in school, I found it to be a chore I'd just as soon skip. I would rather have been daydreaming, my favorite past time. It wasn’t until I grew up and didn’t have to, that I realized reading was fun. I soon discovered that reading fueled my daydreaming. So, remembering a short story I'd written in high school, I began imagining expanding that story into a book. Before long I found I had loads of ideas for not just the short story but other books and stories as well. Fast forward a few years, a lot of studying about writing, practicing my writing, studying some more, taking classes from people who knew what they were doing, studying and practicing yet more, and ta-dah, author! In the same way I had learned I loved reading, I learned I loved writing, too. It’s just that writing is a lot harder than reading.
Author Links:
Excerpt:
“I don’t understand, Mrs. Zaborov. You want us to show football players how to dance?” I asked.
It wasn’t unusual for upper-level dancers to teach or mentor younger students. Sometimes we did private tutoring, but that was with children.
“It is quite simple, my dear Christine. Tomorrow afternoon, the director will bring the football players, and you and Jenna will be here to greet them. Then we will set a time for classes to begin and you will assist.”
Jenna’s mouth moved but no sound came out. I was at a loss as well. But Ms. Zaborov, pleased she’d meted out punishment suiting the offense, gave us a dismissive snap of her head. “Now, I have a class waiting. You will excuse me.” Then she proceeded, dainty and light-footed, out of the room.
In the aftermath, Jenna sputtered, “What the hell just happened?”
“It looks like we’re going to teach football players to dance,” I replied.
“No way. Nuh-uh. Not me. I’m not teaching a bunch of knuckle-dragging no-necks how to plié, much less pas de deux. Think what they’d do to our feet!”
“I’m not sure we have a choice.” We stared at each other a few seconds before bursting into laughter.
“Oh em gee!” Jenna mocked. “We’re going to have jocks in here!”
“I know. Can you imagine?” I glanced at the clock on the wall and dropped the laughter. “We’d better get moving, or we’ll be late to pointe.”
“Right,” Jenna agreed. “Because if we’re late to another class they’re likely to make us teach the chimps at the zoo to pirouette.”
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