Page 31

Damn, why isn’t this working?

My gaze finds my reflection, which looks back furiously, frustratedly, and completely overwhelmed. I speed up, faster and faster, to escape my own thoughts, but they catch up with me again and again.

And then I notice a movement out of the corner of my eye.

Breathing heavily, I pause and turn toward the door. But there’s no one there. My feet start moving again on their own. I leave the studio and catch a glimpse of long blond hair before she disappears into the stairwell. I don’t even see her properly, but I know who it is anyway.

Lia.

She was here and saw me dancing.

My heart skips a beat.

All at once, my mind is completely blank. The voices blur, the anger fades.

All that’s left is an urgent desire to follow her, to bring her back no matter what. Suddenly I want to talk to her too, because it feels so wrong to see her every day and not exchange a word, to watch her and see how she hides herself from the world.

It feels wrong, even though it’s the right thing to do. It has to be this way.

I clench my teeth so hard it hurts, turn away, and go back into the studio. I step in front of the mirror again, trying to banish Lia from my mind and failing, as I’ve done so often in the last few days.

Is this how it ends?

I have her voice in my ear even though she never asked the question out loud.

Yeah, this is how it ends. Or at least, it’s how it should have ended. Because the more time that passes, and the more often I see her, the more difficult it is not to think about her. Not to dream about her. Not to stare at the necklace that’s lying on my bedside table and think about how I’ve seen her reaching for the pendant that’s no longer hanging around her neck at least once every day.

The necklace belongs to me, so why does it feel like I’ve stolen a part of her by taking it back?

I reach for my phone, select a new song, and relax my shoulders. I start moving, and all at once, dancing and not thinking is easy. Although that’s not entirely true.

I’m still thinking about her.

Chapter 16

Lia

I remember exactly how I started dancing. Mom signed me up for a children’s dance group when I was only four years old. It wasn’t a big deal, just something that was supposed to be fun. One of her friends did it with her daughter, and Mom and I joined them. In the beginning, we just jumped around; our movements had absolutely nothing to do with ballet. But we progressed a little more every time.

When I was six, Mom and Dad flew us to New York during Christmas vacation to visit an old college friend and her family. They had a daughter who was a few years older than me who really wanted to see the New York City Ballet’s performance of The Nutcracker. I begged my parents until they let me go, because it was also one of my favorite Barbie movies.

Two hours later I wanted to be a ballet dancer. I wanted to be like those beautiful dancers who floated across the stage with such elegance and grace that it was almost magical.

For me, it was magic.

It still is today.

Ballet is my life.

I guess that’s why I have a knot in my stomach as I walk over to the theater on Monday with Susannah and Katie. We’re not the first ones there; everyone else is already on their way, and the conversations are louder than they were on the first day of school, when the newcomers were still too shy to talk much. Two weeks have changed that. There are cheerful voices and laughter around us. But a tense silence has spread between me and my friends.

In a few minutes, Pearson will reveal the secret. We’ll finally find out which ballet he’s chosen for the Christmas performance. He will assign the roles, and rehearsals will begin tomorrow. We’ll spend every afternoon working on the ballet until the performance in December. There’s nothing I’ve looked forward to more since freshman year.

But today I’m afraid. Afraid of not having been good enough. Afraid of having failed, of not having tried hard enough in the three years I’ve been at the New England School of Ballet. And I know I’m not the only one thinking this way.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Katie says quietly. She does look a little pale.

“Me too.” Susannah reaches for her hand.