Previously on Dance Academy...
Your upper body looks like a stick. There's no groove in it.
That's because I'm a ballet dancer.
Carbs after 3:00? I'd rather eat a deep-fried vending machine.
Tara doesn't want to room with you, so just sign the form.
Has it ever occurred to you that the reason I won't change rooms
is because you want me to?
If I ever have to pick up after you again, I'll get violent.
Is that a promise?
Ethan, I made you a mix CD.
It's just a few dance tracks, some contemporary...
She isn't.
No, she is.
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Hi!
Hey, Ethan. You're working late.
Hey.
Hi. Saw the light. You're...
You're working late.
Hey!
Saw the light. You're working late.
Just trying some ideas.
Oh, so I saw there's this contemporary group
coming from Alice Springs, performing Wednesday night.
Thought it might give you some inspiration.
I don't know if that's the best idea, you and me going out.
Oh, it wouldn't have to be a date or anything.
Look, it's not like I don't think you're a great kid.
But, I mean, you're Kat's best friend.
You're like my other little sister.
OK.
When I was three, I took a vow of silence
until my parents let me start ballet.
I was the youngest kid ever to attend the Patchewalling ballet school,
the youngest winner in the regional eisteddfod.
I used to like being the youngest.
But these days it just feels like another liability,
especially in this place, where we all know each other's weaknesses.
Ow!
We keep tabs on everything,
who has the best arms, the best feet, the best technique,
- Whoa! - Dude, get out.
Sorry. Sorry, Christian. Sorry, mate.
And no small flaw ever goes unnoticed.
Will you stop doing that?
Stop doing what?
I call this one 'The Thinker'.
It's just a pimple. Wear it with pride.
- Hey, Kitty Kat. - Hi.
Ooh, what happened there?
Oh, gosh, did you think that one up all by yourself?
Yep.
Um, Tara, about that thing that you've got on your...
Hey!
He's only two years older than me.
Where does he get off treating me like a little kid?
Maybe because you lose the capacity
to speak in complete sentences around him.
"Oh, um... so, Ethan,
"do you... would you...? Um... I love you."
Sorry. Ow. Ow!
It's true, though.
Katrina, your hair is a mess.
Tara, posture. Tail in, shoulders back.
Abigail, you're out of uniform.
I'm still a little cold. Were you here for warm-up?
Of course. Then take that thing off.
I need to correct your body.
Unless you think I have nothing to teach you?
Of course not, Miss Raine.
It's just I think I'm coming down with something. I feel a bit shivery.
Miss Armstrong, you are either ready to work or at the doctor.
Which is it?
Back to the beginning, please.
Is that tender?
OK, slip your crossover off and I'll check your lungs.
Is that necessary? It's more of a head cold.
Yeah, I need to check that your lungs are clear.
Well, can't you do it on top? It's freezing in here.
No.
OK, big breath. Goodness, that sports bra's very tight.
Maybe you should go up a size.
Maybe I didn't come here for fashion advice.
And again.
Not that it's any of your business,
but I'm the same size I've always been.
Well, your lungs are clear.
I still have a head cold, right?
I mean, I don't want to make it worse.
Abigail, you do know that for your height and weight,
you're in perfect proportion, don't you?
It's normal to be developing. I'm not developing.
I'm certainly not MOST girls.
And soubresaut, chassé, pas de bourrée.
Another single tour. Double tour on the last one.
Great, and pirouette to finish.
And finish. Hold it.
Better.
That's it for today, everyone.
Hey, Lieberman, what's this?
Oi! What the hell are you wearing?
Something funny? No, don't touch him.
Hey! Is this a ballet school or a boxing ring?
Right, Sean, you can explain to Mr Kennedy
why you think wedgies are so hilarious.
The rest of you, out of here now.
Not so fast, Christian.
Lieberman, where's your dance belt?
I don't believe in them, sir.
Don't be ridiculous. It's uniform. Every male dancer wears support.
I swear, I really don't own one.
I don't know how you got away with that, but your rebellion is over.
I'm giving you a note to miss study period.
You're going on a shopping trip.
Oh, and, Christian, you're his wingman.
What? What's this got to do with me?
Consider it character building.
You're Tara Webster, right?
Yeah, but you're in the company. You're Damien Lang.
Yeah. Damo. Hi.
Look, I've been trying to track you down
ever since we got back from the tour.
Really? Yeah. My mum's Shirley Lang.
She knows your mum from the Country Women's Association.
Of course, Miss Shirley.
She adjudicates the eisteddfod. She's terrifying. In... in a good way.
Now you know why I had to talk to you when she asked me to.
My mum is gonna flip when I tell her I met you.
We saw you dance at the Easter show once.
When you got into the company there was, like, a parade in your honour.
You're a legend. Well, yeah. Only locally.
Well, it's been a pleasure.
I'll have to listen to my mother more often.
That was Damien Lang.
Yeah. Damo.
Oh, sorry.
Do you work at being annoying or does it just come naturally?
I didn't see you there.
That's not mine. I don't eat chocolate.
Are you sure, because... "Are you sure, because..."
What are you? Five? Just leave me alone.
Need a hand?
There's one in every year.
You OK?
Yeah, I just have this skill at making a fool of myself.
Look, you can't worry about what people here think of you, alright?
We're from Mallee country. We're supposed to be tough, remember?
Right. Real tough. Yeah.
Here, hand it over.
Admit it, Christian. Dance belts are hot and uncomfortable.
They stink, they look stupid. I mean...
And they're unhygienic, so...
That's why you wash them.
You wash them?
Have you ever seen me do my own washing, Christian?
No, I take it home to Mum. I can't ask her to go there.
You know, what is happening to us is a form of oppression
and I don't like it.
Do you reckon if I jumped I'd make it to the shore alive?
I reckon it'd be bad for your health, like a dance belt.
But seriously, I've done the research.
Do you know what overheating does to a man's sperm count?
OK. No. No. No, seriously.
Listen. What about when I want to have children, Christian?
If I wanted a wedgie, I'd just ask Sean.
We're here. You're getting one. I'm not getting one.
You are. Hi.
You guys need some help? No, we're just browsing.
No, he needs a dance belt.
What size do you want?
I don't actually want one.
I don't believe in their validity or necessity.
I think you'll find
they're actually not that bad once you get used to them.
What size do you think you are?
Um, what's your biggest?
What?
- They're based on jean sizes, so... - Oh.
OK. 31.
OK.
Why don't you give this one a try?
Yeah, sure. Thanks. You can have that one.
Thanks.
Hey. Oi!
What? What is this?
Step away from the pimple.
It's gonna pop all by itself when I tell you what I heard.
Wow. Artistic.
OK, so two of the most stuck-up girls in second year
just bombarded me with questions about how you're dating Damien Lang.
Damo? No way.
Yes way. The entire school is obsessing about it.
What did you tell them?
That I was not at liberty to discuss your personal life.
I think they took that as a definite yes.
Our mothers know each other.
But if people want to talk, who am I to take that away from them?
It's not like I started the rumour.
And anyway, I could totally date a company member, don't you think?
Oh, so proud right now.
So do you reckon Ethan's heard about us? You know, Damo and me?
Less proud.
The doctor said I'm well enough to dance,
but as a medical precaution I should keep my crossover on,
just in case I'm coming down with the flu.
I'm intrigued to see the note.
She didn't put that bit in writing but she asked me to tell you.
The note.
I don't know what's got into you, Abigail.
All that's written here is that you present with symptoms
not inconsistent with a slight cold.
I suppose you can sit the class out.
But she said I'm OK to dance.
Then you will abide by my uniform code.
Ladies who are prepared to dance?
Come on!
Remember your épaulement.
Artistry.
And sustain to the end.
Thank you.
Tara, come to the front so I can demonstrate something to the class.
Girls, let me draw your attention to the hideous amount of make-up
Tara has decided to inflict on herself.
I'd like to remind you that while make-up is allowed,
it should be kept tasteful.
Miss Raine, I'm sorry to disagree with you,
but I believe that I am old enough now to decide what I put on my face,
and even though you may not like it, I do.
Thank you for that opinion, Tara.
But this is my class and that means no excessive make-up
and proper attire at all times.
Thank you.
- Is everything OK in there? - Um, Christian?
Is he there? Christian, can you come here a sec?
Christian?
Oh, what can possibly be so hard? If you want me to demonstrate...
Nothing, nothing, it's fine. It's surprisingly comfortable.
Then why are you taking so long?
I've been giving you two some time.
She's been checking you out. Don't you think she's cute?
Excuse me? Hi. Hi, um...
Hayley. Hayley. Hayley?
Can you come here a sec, please?
I take back everything I said about dance belts.
Told you. Yeah. I'm going to take five.
Can I also try some shorts over the top of them?
Yeah, sure thing. Yeah, great. Thanks.
Oh. Also, my pal Christian's going to help you pick out some.
OK. Thanks.
Go!
They're all just here, so...
Christian, I gave her to you on a silver platter and you died in there.
Oh, did I, now? Alright. Hmm. Oh, what's that?
I don't believe it. Alright, cool.
Hi, it's Hayley.
Pretty soon there's going to be a little beep.
Be brave. Leave a message. Yep.
Hayley, it's Christian. Wait, wait.
Being brave. Give me the phone.
Call me or whatever. 'Bye. Give me the phone.
That was the worst impression of me ever.
Right. It was too articulate, wasn't it?
Tiara, mascara wand down. We're gonna be late for breakfast.
- Get out! - Whoa, banshee.
You have no right to barge into people's rooms like that.
Happily leaving you to your little psychodrama.
Leave me alone, Kat.
Come on.
I've known you since we were five
and you have never walked out of class.
You're the last person who would understand.
Alright. Then, for the sake of the exercise, pretend I'm someone else.
You want to know what's wrong? Tell me what you see.
A really boring leotard.
Like you haven't noticed.
Honestly, you look exactly the same.
What about these?
That's what you're stressing about?
Abigail, they don't look any different.
Anyway, I have these. I have bigger these, thankfully.
But I'm going to be a principal dancer, and principals don't.
They just don't. They're ethereal.
- They're like... - Who?
Tara?
They don't all have flat chests.
Take...
Take my mum, for example.
Natasha is a genetic freak. She's one in a million.
Abby, you have spent years stepping over everyone to get this far.
Are you really going to let a little bit of this stop you?
You all want me to fail.
This must be the funniest thing that's happened in years.
Alright.
Firstly, no matter what you do, Abigail,
you are never going to be funny,
and secondly, the crossover, you don't need it.
- Hey! - Sorry.
Sorry.
Hey, Tara.
Is it true Damien Lang's going to be doing 'Spartacus' next year?
I'm not really allowed to say,
but personally, I think it would be a great career move for Damo.
Cool.
We need to talk, Christian, about privacy.
If we're going to share a room,
we need to get either a lock or some sort of colour-coded schedule.
Shut up. OK.
Come here. Give me your hand. Make a fist.
I don't want to fight you, Christian.
"Oh, just a minute. Come in, Christian."
Brilliant. Yes.
The rumour's reached the third-years.
Yeah, I know. I was just speaking to Ethan.
Don't get any ideas.
OK, everyone find their partners.
Except you, Tara. Mr Kennedy wants to see you.
I'd get a move on.
Alright, is everyone ready?
Come in.
Tara, I need to ask you some questions.
Damien, give us the room, please.
No, he doesn't have to leave. We need to talk privately.
A staff member has come to me with a disturbing rumour,
one that every student in the school seems to be discussing.
But it's not his fault. It's mine.
The reason we have a policy about students dating company members
is to protect them both.
It's all made up.
Not by me, exactly,
but, see, our mothers know each other and some girls saw us talking
and this rumour just took on a life of its own,
and I probably could have...
I definitely could have said something, but I guess I just...
I just thought... You thought what?
I never meant it to get this far or for anyone to get in trouble.
A story like this could ruin Damien's career
and do yours a lot of damage as well.
I'm extremely disappointed in you, Tara.
Damien!
I can't talk to you anymore, alright?
Just stay away from me. Wait. Please.
Stop. Please? I explained everything to them.
Alright. Well, explain it to ME.
It's stupid.
There's this guy and he's in third year, and I thought...
I thought that if he knew that someone older liked me,
that he might see me differently.
So I just watched my career almost get wiped out
because of some stupid schoolgirl crush?
I'm sorry.
You know, when we first talked, I thought how great it was
that there was this kid at the Academy that was real.
I was proud to come from the same place as you.
You shouldn't be in such a hurry to grow up.
I have this image of myself where I'm, like, 25
and I'm walking towards a theatre... in Paris.
I still look like me but I know exactly who I am.
My inside finally matches my outside.
The only problem is that's jumping to the end of the story.
Hey.
Hi.
You causing trouble again?
Some.
You know, you look better without make-up.
Enough, Tara. You are SO done.
And you know what?
If I went straight to that theatre in Paris,
I'd miss out on all this other stuff I never could have predicted.
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