Page 20 of Healing Eleanor

Lentil soup (1 cup): 150 cals

Cucumber (small): 16 cals

Water: 0 cals

Dinner:

Rice cakes (3): 115 cals

Peanut butter (3 tbsp): 300 cals

Water: 0 cals

Total calories: 1,074 cals

Got dizzy and nearly threw up in Adrian’s class today. I might need to eat a smaller lunch and drink more water before working out. That soup was almost making a reappearance. How embarrassing would that have been? Thankfully, Adrian brought me water and a protein bar, which I obviously declined. I wish I could’ve stayed for his next class, but there was no way I was eating that bar.

Only four weeks left until fall season starts, and I still haven’t been accepted anywhere. No new emails today, either. With the power out, I can’t even apply to more companies tonight.

Today was a complete failure, but that just means I’ll have to work harder tomorrow.

5

Prove You’re a Man

Nikolai

Early morning light spills across the worn marley floors, catching dust in its beams. In the corner of the room, Simon warms up the piano, his music filling the studio. The quiet melodies give me a few peaceful moments before the rush begins. Early August is always the busiest: meetings, new schedules, onboarding hires if we have any, and, of course, conditioning classes before auditions. Starting today.

I hold the barre and pull my leg into my hand, stretching out my calves and welcoming the burn. I’m grateful to be in Studio B again. The familiar creak of wood beneath my feet, the smell of old sweat, and the varnished floors ground me more than my morning coffee ever could.

Ten minutes before my class starts, a quick knock sounds from the door. Before I can answer, Kasper’s head pokes through.

“Nikolai,” he says, slightly out of breath, his Swedish accent thick, like he’s run down the stairs. “Can you come to my office for a moment, please?”

I let go of the barre and head for the door. Kasper Pedersen is many things, but hurried is not one of them.

“Yeah, sure,” I reply, grabbing my water bottle and following him.

Three flights of stairs later, we enter his modern, overly neat office. A full wall of windows let in the morning light, and Hollingford Ballet Company posters line the walls: The Bolt from 1998, Sleeping Beauty from before I was even born. It’s like a museum of memories.

Kasper sits in his worn leather chair, turns on his computer, and crosses his arms, looking like he hasn’t slept in a decade.

“Close the door Nik,” he rubs the back of his neck.

I do, my fingers curling into my palms. “Is something wrong?”

He nods slowly, like he’s bracing himself. “We’ve made some last minute cuts.”

I knit my brows. “This close to the start of the season?”

“Elysia was injured over the summer. Jana and Cleo decided not to renew their contracts. Told me after the gala last weekend.” He scoffs. “And somehow, I missed the fact that we’re short in the corps department. We can’t afford to delay.”

I cross my arms. “So, what’s the plan?”

“We’ve had a lot of submissions over the summer.” He nods at the computer. “We don’t have time to hold live auditions now—not with rehearsals starting soon.” His eyes settle on mine. “I want you to take a look at these submissions, tell me if you like anyone you see. We can invite them for a private audition.”

I circle behind his desk and scan the screen. His inbox is full. Dozens of headshots, résumés, and links to reels. Some are starred. Some unopened.