Page 75
“How do you know that?”
“Because after Pearson assigned the parts, Katie came to me to find out how upset I was about it. She wanted to know because it was important to Susannah. And it wasn’t about how I really felt, do you know what I mean?”
He nods, but I don’t think he can understand, because I can’t even understand it myself. But talking to Katie about Susannah feels like more of a betrayal than talking about her to Phoenix.
“It feels like . . . I don’t know, like the final performance is changing everything between us. Although that’s not entirely true, because we never talked much about important things even before.”
“Why not?”
“It was always easier not to talk. I’m not very good at it.” I give him a pitiful smile, and the expression on his face softens. “And now . . . everything is way too complicated. If Susannah is doing what I think she is, then—” I break off and shrug helplessly. “If I’m wrong, they’ll never forgive me.”
Phoenix pushes back his hair and sighs. “I don’t like that.”
I just nod. Neither do I.
“Actually, I should tell Pearson.”
I flinch. Shit. I hadn’t thought of that. But he’s right, he really should report it. He’s our teacher; it’s his responsibility.
“No,” I blurt out without thinking. “Please don’t.”
“Lia—”
“No,” I interrupt him, more sharply than I intended to. I look at him imploringly. “What if I’m actually wrong? I mean, it’s possible, isn’t it? Maybe I just caught her at the wrong moment.”
“What if you’re not wrong? There are rules, and eating disorders are taken very seriously at this school. You know that.”
“Yes, I’m well aware of that. But she’ll lose the role if you report it,” I say and freeze the second I say it.
She would lose the role.
Pearson wouldn’t let anyone with an eating disorder participate in the performance. It’s too dangerous, too unhealthy, too risky. It contradicts the values of the New England School of Ballet. It contradicts the role model function that everyone in the senior class has.
If Phoenix reports her, she’ll lose the role. And I’m her understudy. My stomach is churning, my thoughts racing. Phoenix is silent, but I’m almost certain he’s thinking exactly what I am.
The role could be mine. I just have to betray one of the only friends I have.
“Don’t tell him,” I say quietly, pushing aside worries about leading roles and understudies. That’s not what this is about. “Let me talk to her again first. Maybe I’m wrong.”
I want to be wrong.
And I want to be right.
It’s terrible, but it’s true.
“Okay.” He gives in with a curt nod. “But I’ll keep an eye on her. And if I notice anything, I’ll report her. I won’t have another choice.”
Relief floods through me. “Okay. Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, you did. You listened.”
A sad smile crosses his face, and he reaches out both hands to me and pulls me close. He slides down until I’m lying on his chest, and then he pulls the quilt over us and just holds me tight.
“Why did you tell me?” he asks quietly after a while.
I lift my head and look at him. My heart is pounding against my ribs, and I think he can feel it. “Because I wanted to.”
