But I've spent so long being told I'm not worth the air I breathe, not worth the space I occupy, not worth the dream I've been chasing?—
And here's this woman, this teacher, this unexpected ally in a world full of enemies, telling me I deserve more.
"Thank you," I whisper, and my voice cracks on the words. "Thank you for... for everything. For believing in me. For telling me about the audition in the first place. For?—"
I have to stop.
Have to breathe.
Have to count—one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four—before I can continue.
"Is there anything else I need to do? Any other paperwork? Any requirements I should know about?"
Ms. Chen releases my hands.
Reaches instead for a tissue from the box on her desk, pressing it into my trembling fingers with the casual efficiency of someone who's comforted crying students before.
"Keep practicing," she says. "Your technique is already exceptional, but Martinez will be looking for something special—that spark of artistry that separates good dancers from great ones. Make sure your piece tells a story. Make sure it comes from somewhere real."
Somewhere real.
I almost giggle again at that.
My whole life is somewhere real.
Tragedy and violence and the desperate need to feel something other than pain.
I have enough "real" to fuel a hundred performances.
"The audition is Saturday," Ms. Chen continues. "One week from today. You'll have access to the studio for personal practice—I've already arranged the schedule. Your pack members willneed to be present for the performance as witnesses, but that's a formality."
One week.
Seven days.
168 hours until everything changes.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
Ms. Chen stands, circling the desk to place a hand on my shoulder.
The weight is warm.
Maternal.
Almost like?—
No.
Don't go there.
Don't compare her to Mom.
That way lies breakdown and I can't afford to break.
"The world has been cruel to you, Seraphine." Her voice is soft now, gentle in a way that makes my heart ache. "Crueler than most. You've lost things that no one should have to lose, survived things that no one should have to survive. And you've done it alone, without pack, without support, without anyone to catch you when you fall."
Her hand squeezes my shoulder.
