Page 78 of Healing Eleanor

Control or Crumble

Eleanor

The past week melts into a single, indistinguishable memory. To avoid a complete crash, I push harder. I run every morning before Lily picks me up for rehearsals, the repetitive thud of my shoes against the pavement numbing me better than sleep ever could. During class, I force myself into focus, keeping my eyes locked on the mirror or the floor, anywhere but on Nik. He confuses me in ways I can’t afford. He’s steady where I falter, fire where I’m ice… and I have no idea what to do with that.

True to his word, he drives me home after every rehearsal. He has a way of filling the quiet with questions—sometimes ridiculous, sometimes deeper than I want to go. My favorite so far is when he asked my favorite color. Childish, maybe, but safe. For a moment, I forget the boundaries between us. He’s so easy to be around. Too easy. And that’s exactly where the danger of him begins.

I don’t need danger. I need control. My mother still calls, prying about Hollingford, twisting her questions into little tests. For now she’s stopped harping on the fact it’s a small company, but I know better than to think her silence will last. Nothing I choose will ever be enough. Not this company, and certainly not me. So I work harder and push longer. If I can hold everything together, maybe she’ll stop seeing the flaws in me.

But Nik’s question: Do you think of Hollingford as home? constantly simmers in the back of my mind. Home has never been a safe word for me, not when every wall carries judgment. Yet somehow this town unsettles me in the gentlest way. The cobblestone paths, the birch trees peeling pale against the sky, the clutter of small shops spilling wildflowers onto the streets. It’s too soft, too welcoming, almost as if it believes that I belong.

Even that thought is dangerous, too. I’m not here to have a good time. I’m here on sheer will, with something to prove. Not only to myself, but to my mother. I don’t need the distraction that everyone seems so intent on giving me. Lily, Dillon, Gabriel, and most of all, Nik. Since the moment I stepped through Studio B’s door, they have been nothing but welcoming, offering me a kind of friendship I never thought existed.

And as much as I want to lean into it, I’m not able to. Kindness has never been free in my life. There’s always a catch, a cost I can’t afford. One way or another, someone will get hurt. And I refuse to let it be me. Better to keep my focus sharp, my walls high, my body in control. That’s the only way I know how to survive.

When I step into Studio B, the freestanding barres are already in place, and Nik stands at his podium, tearing pieces of tape with his teeth. Lily, in her usual fashion, has decided it’s a good idea to head to Studio F and lend her dancing expertise to the corps. Those poor dancers have no idea what they’re in for. I stifle a laugh at the thought.

So for now, it’s just Nik and me.

Just as he presses a strip of tape onto a sheet of paper, he lifts his eyes, realizing he’s not alone.

“Oh—good morning, Eleanor.” He flashes me that smile. The one that’s slowly, steadily growing on me.

“Good morning.” I take my usual place by the window.

“Are you ready for today?” he asks, still focused on smoothing the tape.

I tilt my head and stare blankly at him. Today?

Nik catches my uncertainty and answers the question I don’t speak aloud. “Casting. It’s going up today. Along with the variation you’ll all be dancing.”

My stomach lurches, my eyes widening instinctively. Of course. How could I have forgotten? I’ve been so consumed with proving I deserve to be here, I didn’t let myself think about the actual casting.

“Oh, that’s right.” I force a swallow. “I’m… maybe a little nervous. Casting is always a big deal.”

He chuckles, warm and easy. “That it is.”

But my laugh doesn’t surface. My chest is tight, as if the tape in his hands is wrapped around my ribs, keeping me bound together until I make a wrong move.

“Don’t be nervous,” Nik says, snapping me out of my spiral.

I force a nod. “Yeah… wouldn’t that be nice,” I mutter under my breath.

His smile is warm, unbothered. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to hang these up.” He lifts the taped papers in his hands, casual, as if he isn’t holding the fate of my next several months.

I breathe out a soft okay, though my throat is dry. Too bad I’m not brave enough to ask for a peek. The list is right there, inches away, and my fingers itch to snatch it out of his hands. Instead, I stay rooted by the window, clutching the material of my shawl in my hands like it can anchor me.

Because what if I look? What if I see understudy stamped next to my name? Or worse… What if I see a part too demanding to perform… and fail? The thought alone twists my stomach. I can only imagine my mother’s reaction if she ever finds out that this is the result of me coming to Hollingford. In all honesty, she’d probably just say, I told you so.

Dancers begin trickling in when Lily comes bustling through the door, heading straight for me.

When she stops in front of me, she lets out a frustrated huff. “The corps are so ungrateful,” she mutters, dropping her bag next to mine. “Oh, and rude. Don’t forget rude.”

A small laugh slips out of me. “What did they do?”

She chugs her water bottle, then dramatically sets it down. “I got called Ariel.”

“Ariel?” I raise an eyebrow.