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Susannah lowers her eyes. Her shoulders slump, and all at once she looks very, very tired.

“We can help you find someone to talk to,” Katie continues.

“Then Pearson will definitely take the role away.”

“He won’t,” I say. “You know he wouldn’t do that. He would just make sure you got the help you needed to get well. Pearson always wants the best for all of us.”

Susannah hesitates. Countless emotions flit across her face; she seems torn and terribly anxious. “I’ll think about it,” she finally concedes, wrapping her arms around herself, still not looking at us.

“Okay,” Katie says, her relief unmistakable.

I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s thinking about it. That’s all we can ask for.

“Can you leave me alone now?”

“Are you sure?”

“Please, Katie,” Susannah says. “I need time to . . . think.”

We exchange a quick glance; neither of us wants to leave, but we have to respect what she wants. So we leave her alone.

“That went well.” Katie leans against the wall next to Susannah’s closed door and tries to smile but fails miserably.

“It was a start.” I sigh and hope what we did was enough.

Katie bites her lower lip, her eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t want you two to hate each other.”

“We—” I stop, suddenly at a loss for words.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it now. But I want us to fix this, okay? We’re friends.” She straightens her back and blinks frantically to hold back the tears. “I’m not going to argue about it, understand? We’ll fix this somehow.”

My chest feels tight, and I want to believe that we can do this. That I can do this.

“Okay.”

Chapter 55

Ophelia

The studio under the roof is empty and quiet when I arrive. The sun has already fallen below the horizon, but I don’t bother to turn on the light. Instead, I go straight over to the small stereo system and look for a CD, and a moment later, music fills the room. There’s something calming about the sound of piano music. I drop my bag in the corner and put on my ballet slippers, starting my warm-up exercises. I focus only on the music and the pulling in my muscles as I stretch, leaning far over my outstretched legs.

But my thoughts are louder than the music.

I don’t want the lead role.

The words go round and round in my head, and I keep waiting for the moment to arrive when I realize I’ve been fooling myself. That I lied to myself, and to Katie and Susannah too. But the moment never comes. There’s only a feeling of peace inside me, and it remains as I finally swap my ballet slippers for pointe shoes and step into the middle of the studio.

Let it out. Just let it all out, Ophelia.

My pulse quickens as I get into position and take a deep breath. And then I take the first step.

I improvise. It’s something I never do. I always dance to choreography, always, even if it’s just a sequence of steps and figures that we went through in class. But I think it’s time for me to let go.

Let go of perfection. Let go of control. Let go of doing everything right. I can’t always do everything right. I don’t. That’s obvious. I can’t control everything either, and I’m not perfect.

But gradually, I’m accepting that I don’t have to be. Nobody is perfect. Perfection is an illusion. It’s something I cling to because it makes everything a little easier. At the same time, it makes it all so much harder.

My thoughts fade a little with every step. After a little while, all that’s left is my heart beating hard against my ribs as I float through the studio. Endorphins rush through me as my muscles work, and my breathing quickens a little. I have to smile. It happens all by itself, a real smile.