Soloist. Leo had made soloist. It was just what he had hoped for. Principal was out of the question, no matter how long he had performed with the other troupe. In addition, he had been cast in the new Moulin Rouge production as Toulouse and on alternate nights Lead Tango.

Everything he had hoped for, to try something new, to dig into the daring part of himself and just see what he could perform was now in front of him. He had to pull it off.

Leo shook out his legs and loosened the muscles in his neck. One way and then another he rocked his head. Rehearsal for Moulin Rouge had started a week ago, and with it the happy weariness of pushing himself to excel. As he rolled his toes in small circles, he felt the tension eke out. This performance, this confidence they showed in him, was going to answer a lot of questions. It was going to either prove him or his family right. He could give back another way without following in their footsteps. He could and he would.

The crisp, bold rap of Madame's stick echoed from the practice room floor. "Lunch is over. Time to work. This time no liquid arms. Pah! Pah! Strong -- on the beat. Now go!"

The pianist struck into the music. It filled the room, filled his thoughts. Each count instructing him just where to go, what his body should do. He felt his body lift and stretch into the music and the role he was performing. Weariness vanished beneath the thrill of hitting the mark just right and feeling the music from fingers to toes and into the boards beneath his feet.

It was early morning. Early by way of rooster's crowing and delivery trucks honking. With his duffle over his shoulder, Leonard hunched shoulders against the cool morning. The threadbare grey scarf doing a poor job of keeping the chill away. His shoes could use new soles, too, but all his money was spent on lodging, food, and dance gear. Have to take care of the hand, or the feet, that feed you. And help heal his feet, which meant salves and ointments, which meant money.

The Ballet Troupe was in full swing of practice and rehearsals, but the bonus chance of working with the Shanachie company meant all that more experience to work from and towards. His time was regimented, down to the time allotted for eating. The more he danced, of course, the more he had to eat to replace the energy burned. His breakfast of ham, eggs, and toast had only been half an hour ago. He was hungry. Pushing his way into the building for the ballet troupe, he snagged a banana from the bowl of fruit always there at the entryway.

?Hey, Leo!? The calls came as he made his way down the hall, passing other members of the troupe. With banana stuffing his mouth, he smiled and waved.

One of the chorus who reminded him of his pal, Gingersnap, came up to him. ?Here you are! I just told them you hadn?t made it in yet.?

Choking down the bite, he frowned. ?Them who??

Tillie moved on with a shrug. ?They didn?t leave names. Some older lady, hat and a cane, and another fellow with her, nice three piece suit and some ring bling.? She whistled and brushed her nails against her leotard clad shoulder, turning in a graceful circle on her way to the room where music poured out as she slipped inside.

Leonard hung his head, closed his eyes, and felt all the joy snatched out of him. They were finally here.