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Why? Why did she have to get the part? Why am I not good enough?

Chapter 18

Lia

I don’t get very far. The others are waiting for me back in the other studio. Of course they’re curious and want to know what’s left for me after all the big roles have already been assigned. I wouldn’t act any differently in their place, but now it’s unbearable.

Katie and Charlie are hanging around by the door, peeking out into the corridor, not even bothering to pretend they weren’t waiting for me to come back. Charlie should be my partner. I should be dancing the pas de deux in Swan Lake with him. We’ve danced together many times before, and we’ve always been a good couple. That’s probably over now.

His gaze is open, and the question of how Susannah could be his partner now is written all over his face. My shoulders tense. I don’t want to talk right now, not to anyone. But I can’t just ignore them. I can’t sneak past them, even though that’s all I want to do.

“How was it?” Katie asks in a soft voice when I stop in front of her. Everyone is staring at me. My pulse is racing, and I want to get out of here as fast as possible.

“I’m Susannah’s understudy,” I say bluntly. There’s no point in hiding it. They’ll find out soon enough anyway, when I have to start learning Susannah’s role despite everything.

I force myself to smile and try to hold back the tears. Pressure builds inside me, a silent plea to let me leave. Helpless anger because none of this is right. Katie’s mouth forms into a silent “Oh,” and her gaze wavers. She can’t think of anything to say, of course. She knows I expected something else. Probably we all did, although Susannah certainly hoped for exactly what she got, just like every other dancer. Everyone wants to get the lead.

“That’s great!” Celéste says. I wish she’d shut up, she has no idea. She’s a talented dancer but not nearly good enough to ever dance a lead role. Of course the understudy part would be good for her—great, even. But I’m not her, and for me it’s the end of the world.

“Of course,” I say anyway, because it’s the only thing I can say without sounding like an ungrateful bitch. “Pearson is having me practice for two roles. Of course it’s good.” My stomach cramps up and I want to throw up. The whole thing is literally nauseating.

“That’s quite a lot,” Susannah says, taking a step toward me and regarding me with concern. Not because Pearson is asking so much of me but because she got the role I wanted so badly. She’s afraid of what this awful competition will do to our friendship. And so am I. Because there’s no denying that I’m jealous, angry, and disappointed. I wish it were different. I wish I could rise above it and be happy for her, but I can’t. Maybe it would be different if Pearson had another reason for not giving me the part.

But he didn’t give it to me because I don’t show my feelings, and that hurts so much because I know Susannah has always been better at that than I am. She’s never hidden her feelings.

“I’ll manage,” I say with a shrug and give her a carefree smile that splits my face, my heart, and my soul in half. The pressure inside me is building. The anger, the feeling of having failed and being unable to do absolutely anything about it. I gave everything I had for years, and it still wasn’t enough.

“Of course. You always manage.” Susannah’s smile is just as fake as mine.

“Exactly.” My cheeks hurt from forcing a smile. I want to curl up and cry, but I pull myself together. I don’t let anything show.

“We should celebrate, right? After all, tomorrow the real world begins,” Tyler says, looking from one of us to the next, excited and completely clueless. He has no idea what’s really going on.

I swallow the words that are on the tip of my tongue—that he’s too late. The real world of ballet began as soon as we took our first dance steps, even before we came to the New England School of Ballet. It began when we decided to dedicate our lives to ballet. If he hasn’t figured that out by now, there’s no help for him anyway.

But the others all agree with him, so we soon leave the practice building together and make our way back to the dorm. We go up to the fourth floor, but I don’t go into the common room with the others. Instead, I say I’ve forgotten something in my room and promise to join them soon. Everyone knows it’s a lie, but for once I couldn’t care less. Let them think what they want.

All I want is to finally be alone so I can relieve the pressure inside me, which is getting stronger every second.

How could this have happened? How could I have overestimated myself so badly? And why, why, why isn’t it enough to be perfect? Why do I have to show my feelings too?

I know why, but I don’t want to admit it to myself. Then I would have to admit that Pearson’s decision not to let me dance the lead was right.

I take a shaky breath. My chest feels narrow, and my skin suddenly feels too tight and small. I don’t know what to do. I want to scream and rage and freak out, but my voice won’t obey. I can’t let anything out, I’m just not capable of it, and that’s the problem. That’s the only real, true problem.

I call my mother because I’m so sad, and yes, because I need her. I need to talk to someone before I drown in my own emotional chaos. My eyes burn as I tap Mom’s number on my phone. I let it ring five, seven, eleven times, but she doesn’t pick up, and the voicemail doesn’t kick in. That means she’s not at the clinic and not in surgery, otherwise the call would have gone to voicemail immediately. My parents’ office has been closed for almost two hours, so they must be home by now.

Please answer, Mom.

I’m about to hang up when she finally answers after the seventeenth ring.

“Hello?” She sounds so polite and distant that you’d think she hadn’t noticed my name on the display.

“Hi, Mom.” My voice trembles. I force myself to smile and fail miserably. Besides, she can’t see me anyway.

“Lia. Why are you calling?”

No How are you? No Is everything okay? No Nice to hear from you. Only Why are you calling?