Reel Smuggling
an excerpt

Christian stopped dead, looking over Emma’s shoulder. “What?” Emma asked him.

He didn’t respond, he just pointed. That was enough for Emma to know that whatever was going on behind her, it wasn’t going to be exactly pretty. Emma tossed her head and rolled her eyes to behind her. There she saw Enid Helbourne, once again. The annoyance in Emma’s voice was easily detected as she bitterly spat, “What’s she doing now?”

Now it was Christian’s turn for a shrugging fest. “I don’t know, but I’m willing to guess that it’s not exactly desirable. Have you ever heard of Enid doing something good for a change?” Emma shook her head. As it were, they needn’t have wondered for much longer, as it took no time for Enid to see them, and recognize them as potential targets onto whom she could seep and project her dislike of all other competing schools. She had a ruling strut in her step—a turned-out, fifth position strut because of her uncontrollable habit that many Irish dancers fell victim to—but a strut nonetheless. Christian, not willing to let Enid speak first, made sure to start them out where he wanted them. “So, what rules shall we break today?”

Christian had hoped that his obvious bite to her tactics of competition would leave her speechless, but he had only set himself up for her comeback. “I’m not sure yet, but I hear someone else was breaking something else yesterday. Was it tendons?” she sank out with a smile tugging at the sides of her ruby-red, lipstick laden lips.

Christian lowered his eyes, “Actually, it’s a ligament probably.”

“Oh,” Enid chuckled, or near cackled, tossing her black curled wig, “I see how that changes everything. Well, don’t hurt yourself. Break a leg. Be sure to tape your shoes before you go on,” she added ominously to Emma. She let her dark eyes penetrate before raising her eyebrows quickly. She pivoted on her foot, and let her black curls—artificial, but effectively matching her natural color-- whip her face as she spun.

“She desperately needs artificial tanner,” Emma commented. “On second thought, why doesn’t she just get out in the sun every once in a while and get some actual, real live vitamin D?” Enid was as pale as a ghost, and her dark black hair made her look all the paler. Her eyes were penetrating, and looking at a picture of her made one believe that she could actually stare at you. She was much taller than most Irish dancers, and she was so thin that you could snap her in half. Even her legs--usually muscular, toned and occasionally very stocky on Irish dancers--were sickeningly thin.

Christian laughed at Emma’s comments, but Emma cut him off. “I wasn’t kidding. That doesn’t look healthy at all. I’m tanner than that, and I’m three-quarters Danish.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I guess you’re right.”

“And how come her tiara is like that now? Last time we saw her, she was wearing a gold tiara with orange stones, wasn’t she? Now she’s wearing a silver one with pink stones. What’s going on?” Emma asked her friend. He only shrugged, but she pulled them both back into cognizance. “Come on. I need to get to backstage, because I have to go on pretty soon.”