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Chapter Two
Phoenix
“Ten minutes to curtain,” Ms. K yells as she hurries around the backstage of our mid-year concert, ordering the stagehands and dancers into position.
I’m dressed and ready in my costume, just checking my hair and make-up. Everything is perfect in place, and for a moment, I stare at the reflection of the girl in the mirror looking back at me. I am proud of how far I’ve come in my recovery.
There are still moments I can’t control; despite all the progress I’ve made. When I’m wedged in a room with too many people, it’s like I can feel the scratchy wool blanket wrapping around my face, still muffling my screams for help. The walls close in, and the weight of the surrounding bodies somehow matches the weight of the body that plagues my memories.
But when I’m on stage, I’m finally home. All the demons that live inside my head are silenced by the timbre of the music. It’s where I can release the emotions that haunt my dreams at night.
“Looking good, Phe. You’re going to kill it out there tonight,” Angel whispers in my ear as she comes up from behind and gives me a hug.
Angel’s been my best friend since my first group dance lesson two years ago. She came right up to me, wrapped her arms around my timid shoulders, and declared that we would be just like sisters.
Angel and I may share our tall and lean frames and the defined muscles that come from hours of dancing, but that’s where our similarities end. She is the blonder, shinier, bubblier version of me. Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder if things had gone differently, would I have been more like her? It hurts to think about what I could have been, so instead, I try to focus on the infectious smile stretching across my best friend’s face.
A smile tugs at the edges of my own lips as I turn into her warm embrace. “Thanks, Angel, I needed that. I’m nervous as hell,” I tell her with a sigh. “I don’t know how you’re always so calm with these things.”
I love performing on stage, but I’m always wary of my surroundings. I know Kyle can’t hurt me anymore, but no amount of therapy can change the way I search every crowd for his face. I still feel that it could all be leading me into a sense of false security.
“You’ll do fine, Phe. You’ve got this.” She tucks a piece of my mousy blonde hair behind my ear, tugging at my chin until my eyes are no longer locked on the floor. “Remember, this is just like any other day, except we are on stage instead of in the studio. I’d better go get into position. We all know what Ms. K is like when we’re late.”
Nodding at her, I get up from my mirror and make my way to the side of the stage. Disappointment washes over me as I check my phone and realize my mom hasn’t sent her usual good-luck message. I quickly fire a text, telling her I love her, to wish me luck, and I will see her after the show.
I place my phone in my bag and head to the stage, wishing my fellow dancers good luck on my way. I go through my performance ritual as I wait in the wings, stretching out my muscles, rolling my shoulders, and shaking my arms and legs. I start my mantra, “This is your safe spot, you can be free out there, nothing but you and the music. JUST YOU AND THE MUSIC.”
As the music starts, I make my entrance, moving through my routine, every step practiced, and on point. It’s been six months and countless hours of work to get here. Even if we make this look easy, it’s not. This year, it was part of the curriculum to choreograph our own contemporary piece; it has to be perfect. Our final grades depend on how we perform today.
On stage, we can hear the commotion going on in the wings, but a good dancer lets nothing distract from her routine. As we head into the end of our dance and the final note of Secondhand Serenade’s “Fall for you” ends, we take our bows and head to see what all the noise is about.
As soon as my feet step off the stage, Ms. K is ushering me into the tiny dressing room I was using. Once inside, I look around, seeing two officers standing by my mirror, a man and a woman.
The first officer is looking at me with such sorrow in his eyes that it immediately makes the tiny hairs stand up on my neck. Glancing between them and Ms. K in confusion, I run to my bag and grab my phone. Hitting call on my mom’s name, I pray she answers.
A hand comes up to mine and gently takes my phone from me. Turning to look, I see Angel there next to me, concern etched into her pretty face. She nods, and we both turn to face the officers.
“Miss Brooks?” he asks, stepping closer to me.
Immediately I take a step back, raising my hands in defense, shaking my head silently, asking him to stop his approach. He stops immediately, apologizing, and steps back to where he was.
“Sorry Miss, I didn’t mean to scare you; my partner and I need to have a chat with you. Why don’t we take a seat, and we can talk?” he asks, looking between his partner, myself, and my friends that have gathered around us.
Not waiting for a reply, he sits in one of the dressing room chairs, waiting for me to comply. As I look to those who are gathering around us, my senses heighten. I have a bad feeling that something really awful has happened.
Feeling as though I’m about to lose it, Ms. K ushers the rest of my dance group out the door and shuts it behind her. With eyes filled with gentleness and compassion, she guides me to my vanity chair, urging me to sit.
“Officer, can you please tell me why you are here to see my student?” Her words are hesitant, but her grip is strong as she reaches out and takes my hand. Angel appears on my other side instantly, wrapping her arms around me and steadying my shaking shoulders.
“Miss Brooks, we’re sorry to have to do this here. But we regret to inform you that there was an incident today at your mother’s work, and during this incident, several people were hurt.” The second officer kneels in front of me to look me in the eyes as she speaks. Placing a hand on mine, she continues. “Unfortunately, your mother did not make it, Miss Brooks. She passed away on the way to the hospital.”
Snapping my head up, I look her dead in the eyes as unshed tears pool and burn in my own. Did she just tell me my mother is dead? NO, NO, NO, NO, this cannot be happening. This is a dream, an awful dream I need to wake up from. She was in the audience; she told me she would meet me here after the show. NO, this officer must be lying. Maybe she’s got the wrong family.
“I’m sorry, that can’t be true,” I laugh nervously. “My mom is out in the audience. She never misses a performance. My mom wasn’t meant to be working today. I think you have me confused.”
Looking at her partner, then to Ms. K, her gaze finally returns to me. “Your mom’s name is Grace Victoria Brooks, right?”
Nodding at her, it finally sinks in. Before the show, Mom didn’t send her usual good-luck text, and when I checked it before the final dance number, there was still nothing. Even when I tried to call just now, it rang out unanswered. I try to think about the last time I spoke to her, but I’m not sure.
A scream pierces through the room around us as I slump to the floor in a sobbing mess. This cannot be happening to me. Ms. K’s gentle arms wrap around me, and I can hear her soft crooning in my ear. “You’re going to be okay. You can get through this. You’ve already come so far, sweetheart. You’re so strong.”
But right now, I don’t want to hear any of this. I don’t want to believe what they’re saying. If it’s true, where does that leave me? My dad is in jail for something he did to protect me, and aside from him, there isn’t anyone that I can turn to. What am I going to do? What’s going to happen to me?
