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“What’s so funny?” I murmur.
“Finally,” she squeals with delight, “Emma’s second-second-second hand shoes have broken. It’s a pity she can’t afford new ones. Maybe she can start an online fundraiser?”
All the other girls in the class laugh along with her. Everyone wants to be friends with Britney, even if that means tearing another girl apart.
And, even though I really, really don’t want to, I begin to cry.
Not here...
Tears flow, uncontrollably, down my face, and I immediately dash out of the studio, desperate to just get the hell out of dodge. Desperate to get away from the gleeful face of Britney as she realizes she’s landed upon a goldmine with which to tease me.
But I don’t get far. Irina stands in the doorway, her face as cold as stone. She’s in my way.
“Emma,” she calls, trying to stop me with my name.
But, right now, I am determined to stop for no one - not even for my hard-nosed Russian teacher. I brush past her, avoiding her gaze, intent on just getting as far away from the jeers and the teasing as possible.
And I run all the way home. All those miles and miles back to the Penmayne mansion.
Second-second-second hand shoes...
Unlike the last time I ran all the way home, when I was so happy with Irina’s compliment, now I am as polar opposite as it comes.
Right now, I want to do nothing but hide under my bedcovers and wish I had never once thought about dancing in the first place.
12
EMMA
I can’t think straight, especially not when there are streams of tears running down my face as I run and run and run.
I run through the Penmayne gardens toward the maid’s quarters. I’ve done this route so many times now that I can do it with eyes closed - or with eyes full of tears. At this time of day, I’m guessing Mom will be working somewhere in the main building of the mansion, so won’t be anywhere near my bedroom.
I can break down without anyone else knowing, not even my own parent...
But then I nearly run into someone. And not just anyone, but August Penmayne. The boy staggers back as I zoom into his path, just dodging my sprint.
“Woah,” he calls out in surprise, an open medical textbook in his hands. “What’s wrong, Emma?”
I realize it’s too late for me to avoid him and slip past without an exchange of words. Look, I nearly crashed into him in a pretty spectacular way, so he deserves at least some kind of explanation.
I stop and face the boy who’s given me my first kiss. The tears on my face are humiliating.
I can’t believe he’s seeing like this. Another thing to add to everything going wrong.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I lie.
Yeah, a pretty crappy explanation.
It’s obvious August doesn’t take that for much of an answer. Instead of answering me back, though, he takes a step toward me, cradles my chin between his fingers on his left hand, and gently wipes away the tears leaking from my eyes with the index finger of his right hand. I’m reminded of the kiss he gave me in the movie room only days ago. I haven’t seen the boy since then, but that kiss has dominated my dreams and caused my waking mind to spin uncontrollably with some crazy-ass scenarios between him and me. Scenarios that should remain at the very back of my mind. I still can’t wrap my head around what happened in that movie room, and I don’t even want to.
And now, with his hand tenderly wiping away my tears, I know I’m falling into even deeper shit with this rich boy.
“It’s more than nothing, isn’t it?” he asks, whispering. He’s so close I can feel his hot breath against my cheeks. I like it. “You’re upset. You’re crying, Emma. Something has clearly made you feel like this, and I want to find out what. I care about you.”
I shake my head, but he still lightly holds onto my chin to keep me facing up to his tall height. I can’t help but get all gooey inside as he tenderly grasps me.
“I don’t want you seeing me like this,” I mutter. “I look so freaking stupid.”
