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But in the weeks following the start of their supposed relationship, Anya seems to have become a shadow of her former self. She’s clearly not sleeping, and I suspect Nicolo didn’t take the time to ease Anya into the situation like Ilya did for me. Nicolo Marchetti seems to behave more like a blunt-force tool. He doesn’t have the patience or finesse that I’ve come to value so deeply in Ilya. And poor Anya’s suffering for it.
She’s probably struggling with the same moral conflict I suffered when Ilya first approached me, and if I know anything about Nicolo Marchetti, it’s that he doesn’t have the patience to let her decide for herself, let alone the restraint to accept it if she said no. And I fear that is the war waging within my friend. I know I have to say something, do something to help Anya. But I don’t want to make things worse. Still, as I watch her in practice after school today, struggling to bring her new underclassman partner up to speed, I know I can’t wait any longer.
As Anya and her partner call it quits for the day and head to the cubbies, I catch Paige’s snide tone and pause in my own practice to listen in.
“I just don’t get it,” Paige says as she changes out her dance shoes.
“Get what?” Anya’s partner asks.
“How you can stand to dance with Anya when she not only sells herself to a criminal to live the good life but also seems to enjoy siccing that criminal on her dance partners for entertainment.”
Paige smirks at Anya, who looks struck by the low blow. I immediately bristle and make a beeline for the small group, ready to intervene. Sometimes Paige can be a complete bitch, and Anya does not need more on her plate right now. Anyone can see that.
“Nicolo was an asshole long before Anya came along,” I say dryly. “You can’t hold her responsible for who he hurts. What he did to Fin was not her fault. And if I didn’t know better, Paige, I might think you’re holding it against Anya that her boyfriend buys her nice things and no one seems to want to buy you anything. Besides, you didn’t seem too upset the other night when Anya got us into Danza without having to wait in line and bottle service to boot.”
“Oooh,” Logan pipes in from his spot on the mats as he lets his partner stumble out of her spin. “Oops.” He flinches as she topples to the floor with a squeak, and I roll my eyes.
Paige scoffs, her mouth opening in horror. “I amnotjealous,” she snaps, flipping her bleach-blond hair over her shoulder before she storms from the room.
From that reaction, I’d say I hit the nail on the head.
Still, Anya’s partner gives her a look that says he’s more than a little terrified of what Nicolo might do to him. “I better get going or I’ll be late… But I’ll see you after school tomorrow, right? We can put in more practice then.”
Anya looks utterly crushed as her partner flees the room like the building’s on fire. Her eyes shine with unshed tears as she hunches in defeat while she turns her attention to swapping out her shoes.
“Hey, don’t worry about Paige. She’s just got a stick up her butt.” I squeeze Anya’s nearly frail shoulder supportively.
A startled laugh bursts from her. “Thanks.” She flashes me a small, appreciative smile.
“Can I walk with you to the bus stop? Trent and I are done practicing for the day.”
“We are?” Trent asks, failing to catch the hint–as usual.
“Yep!” I snatch up my bag and smile at Anya.
“Isn’t that the opposite way you normally go?” she asks, her tone perplexed.
I shrug casually. I don’t want to freak her out and make her feel like I’m about to swoop down on her with an intervention–even though that’s basically what I’m doing. “My boyfriend’s picking me up. I’ll just tell him to get me on the other side of campus today.”
Anya smiles gratefully. “That would be really nice.”
Crisp fall air makes our breath plume around us as we exit the dance building, reminding me that the winter showcase will be coming up all too soon. I really should have stayed to practice more, but this is more important.
Anya remains quiet beside me, seeming lost in thought. I can only take the silence for so long. “Are you okay?” I ask. “You seem like you’ve been more stressed and tense since you and Nicolo got together. You seemed troubled as we went into Danza this weekend, and then you left without Nicolo. I thought maybe you two had a fight.”Subtle, Whitney. No way she’ll see through that smooth conversation starter.I’ve never been one for beating around the bush, and apparently, I can’t even manage it when my friend looks like a gust of wind might push her right over.
Anya’s eyes widen in surprise as she meets my gaze. “No, yes–I mean everything is great. Dating Nicolo is great.”
She’s a terrible liar. The way she blushes would be a dead giveaway even if her voice didn’t sound so unnaturally high-pitched and strained. Stopping short, I turn to face Anya, grabbing her arm so she’ll stop with me. “I know what’s really going on, Anya, and that’s not called dating.”
Anya’s gaze drops, screaming her shame.
“You know, I was faced with a similar situation at the end of high school,” I add lightly, turning to walk again.
“You did?” She sounds skeptical.
I can hear it in her tone. She must feel so alone in this school, like I did my freshman year, despite the twins’ friendship. I should have told her this sooner. I glaze over the details of how Ilya and I met, not particularly wanting to get into the fact that we first met when I was still underage and that our agreement started considerably later. “He offered me a proposition of sorts,” I explain, cutting to the chase.
“In exchange for meeting his sexual desires, which he warned me could be somewhat dark, he offered to pay my college tuition, my housing, everything I would need for as long as I gave myself to him. I was poor enough, with no possibility of becoming a dancer or paying my way through Rosehill by any other means, so I accepted.” Warmth floods me as I consider how far Ilya and I have come since then, and I smile as a chuckle bubbles up from deep within my chest.
