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I need to cut ties with them so cleanly, their names don’t dirty my mental doorstep ever again.
Least of all, when I can solve this teeny problem myself.
I skirt the performing arts center, skipping past the grand glass entryway for the fire door in back near the dumpsters. A few shady maneuvers bring me to the dance studios just in time for the last lesson before dinner.
Every classroom is rocking, so there’s no one to spot my scurry to the storage room. It’s not locked.
I throw the bolt behind me, then sag against the door. In the dark, windowless vault, I take what feels like my first breath in hours.
I’m tempted to curl up, this time in a pile of taffeta tutus, but I can’t give into the urge. If I let myself take fetal position, I won’t get up for days.
I rummage jam-packed racks of old performance outfits until I find a black leotard halter and a matching skirt bottom. They’re sleek enough to get me in the party’s door, but not so attention-grabbing that I’ll be uncomfortable.
My goal is to show up, meet alphas, and then get gone—not be the star of the social season.
I grab a pair of nude ballet flats, then unbolt the door. Before I can escape, a too-familiar nightmare voice freezes me in the cracked doorway.
“Hurry. We’re late for makeup.” Rachel hustles ahead of her dance team posse, dark curls pulled into a ballerina bun, with a dance bag over one arm and both thumbs texting fast enough to start a fire.
“You think she’s coming to the cocktail?” asks Jovie, ever the loyal minion.
“Who?”
“The Darling.”
Rachel sneers. “I have her handled.”
Fan-tickity-tastic.
I’m so past the point of petty teen girl drama. My life is not a game, and if they try to fuck with me, I’ll fuck with them harder.
When the halls are finally empty, I make my escape, sneaking toward the side door to avoid the lobby.
The route forces me past Evgenia’s office. I duck my head and hurry past.
Just a student, strolling by.
“Darling Lilah.”
Ugh. Spotted.
Evgenia pops into the hall with a scowl for the balled-up clothes in my arms. “My entire storage room at your disposal, and that’s what you take?”
“I’m in a hurry.”
“Not that much of a hurry. Come. Let me fix you.”
I sigh and follow her to storage.
Evgenia hums as she flicks through the racks, thrilled to finally have me as her doll. “There’s a performing arts showcase in a couple days. I can save you a slot. Help you throw together a routine that’ll leave the alphas panting.”
“I have socials scheduled every night.”
She scoffs. “Nonsense. Dance. The alphas will come to you.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Time to stop being afraid.” She pushes a blue poof at me. “This. It’ll bring out your eyes. And show off your throat.”
