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I don’t interrupt Tiffany again. I think I’ve proven my point. When she starts droning on about her illustrious dance career I can’t help but wonder why she’s here and not working with the Royal Ballet. I’m betting there’s far more to her story than she’s letting on. I make a mental note to ask Clancy about it later.
One by one, Madame Tuillard calls everyone up. The ballet dude who was standing next to me is called River. Hippy parents apparently. He took up dance when he was three and had way too much energy that needed to be funnelled into something that would keep him interested. His mum chose ballet much to his dad’s disgust. But River loved it and so here he is.
Following River is the dark-haired girl. Turns out her name’s Sophie. She moved to London with her family after her father got a new job. Her specialisms are street dance and hip-hop. Other than that she’s tight-lipped and if my instincts are right, there’s more to her than what she presents to the world. Not that I really give a shit. We’ve all got secrets. She can keep hers, and I’ll keep mine.
After her, Zayn and York both give bullshit stories that are about as far away from the truth as you can get. I wonder why they’re lying, and a thread of worry skirts my veins. Nothing good ever comes from lies. I should know.
Eventually it’s my turn.
“Last but not least, Pen,” Madame Tuillard says, waving me forward.
I bite down on the groan that wants to escape and weave through the group, avoiding all eye contact with the three Breakers before me. I can feel Xeno’s stare drilling into the side of my face.
“My name’s Pen. I grew up on a council estate in Hackney, not far from here. I danced to escape. Growing up was… difficult.” I swallow hard, my throat constricting. Clancy gives me an encouraging smile and I grit my teeth, forcing myself to continue. “I learned to dance by watching YouTube tutorials. I didn’t go to any dance schools likeyoudid,” I say, making a point to look at Zayn and York, acknowledging their lies. “Dancing is the only time I ever feel safe. Happy. Free, I guess…”
My voice trails off and Madame Tuillard smiles. “Thank you, Pen, for sharing.”
“I haven’t finished,” I say.
She nods. “Apologies, please continue.”
Gathering courage I look at Zayn, meeting his steely gaze. “I met someone who introduced me to his dance crew. We grew up together. We were friends. My love of dance grew in their company. They made me believe I could do anything. The truth is…” My gaze flicks to York, who has his game face on. I can’t look at Xeno without being obvious, but it doesn’t matter, I know he’s watching me avidly, just like the other two. Should I continue on? I wonder what would happen if I did if I told everyone here thetruestory of us. The only story that counts, apparently, despite all the years of friendship I shared with the Breakers leading up to that point. You see it all boils down to one night, one decision, and one devastating consequence that separates who we were to what we are now. Would Xeno try and stop me if I told the real truth? Would York persist in pretending he doesn’t know me? Would Zayn still look at me like he hates me? Will Dax suddenly storm into this studio too?
“The truth…?” Xeno asks, his voice steady with warning.
Flicking my gaze to a spot at the back of the studio, I take a deep breath. “The truth is, I realised that the only person I could rely on was myself. These friends I once had may have given me confidence, a family I never had, but it’s always been dance that has taught me to be brave, to wantmore. Dance changed my life because it gave me hope when everyone else let me down, including them. That’s my story, for what it’s worth.”
Heading back to my spot at the back of the class, I ignore Xeno’s gaze and the piercing reflection of Zayn and York as they stare at me in the mirror.
Friday night they laid down the gauntlet with their emotional warfare. Today I’ve struck back with an emotional bomb of my own. If they think they can walk in here and fuck this up for me after everything they did, they can think again. I will not let them ruin my chance of making something of my life. I refuse to let them hurt me again. Screw them and their games. They might be some bullshit gangsters with a secret agenda, but this is my chance at a future, and I will not let them ruin it. Judging by the look on their faces, the truth hurts. Though, this isn’t the first time the truth has caused pain, and I doubt it will be the last.
