Lillian stepped away from Katrina. “Well, I’ve signed the paperwork, so we’ll see. Now I just need to find a choreographer.”
Katrina clapped her hands together in excitement. “I’ll send your mother some recommendations, though I’m sure she knows a few herself. Anything you need, just ask, okay? I’m going to head out, but you can use the studio until the janitor has to lock up.”
Katrina left her to the empty room, and Lillian could finally breathe. She wasn’t like everyone else—like her mother—social interactions exhausted Lillian. All she wanted was a dance studio and blissful silence.
Rubbing her hands down the muscles of her bare legs, she warmed them up before pulling a pair of leggings from her bag and yanking them on. In class, she looked the part of the perfect prima ballerina with her tight bun and expensive leotard.
But here, on her own, she could loosen up.
She could play.
Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she relaxed her legs, trying to shake off any lingering weariness from the class. Her eyes skittered to her bag in the corner where the gate pass sat in the side pocket. She looked to the clock above the door. Six PM. She had half an hour before she was late.
The question was… did she care?
Not when it came to dance. She bent to where her phone rested on the front desk and turned on Spotify. Her favorite playlist started up through the Bluetooth speakers, and she launched into a series of turns, each one quicker than the one before.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Her eyes fixed on a divot in the wall, each time coming back to it to keep from getting dizzy. The music picked up, and so did her dance. Spins were easy. She’d been doing them since she could walk.
Some of the jumps, however…
She ran halfway across the room before leaping into a grand jete, her legs stretching into a split, but she came out of the move a half second too late. She stumbled on her landing and cursed herself.
Too high. She’d jumped too high.
Yet, she’d wanted to, to push herself to the limit and see which boundaries could be moved or broken altogether. It was part of who she was.
“Again,” she muttered to herself.
This time, she didn’t get the height, but she tried to turn as she jumped and stumbled backward on the landing before falling on her butt.
She could hear her mom’s voice in her head. If you can’t be extraordinary, it isn’t worth doing.
And what was Lillian? Ordinary? Average?
She knew that wasn’t true. Every girl in her class wished they could dance like her, but it still wasn’t enough for her mom. It never was. So she pushed, harder and harder, hoping it wouldn’t break her.
She kept trying until her legs burned and her lungs cried out for air.
You’ll never be the dancer I was.
Yes, her mom had said that to her too. More than once. That was what happened when one was raised by a dance prodigy. Daria Preston was revered once, now she was part of ballet history.
And she’d never forgiven the world for moving on without her.
You’ll never live up to the Preston name.
Those words kept Lillian out of competition after competition. She’d never tried, never let herself fail. If she didn’t try to win, she couldn’t lose, and maybe her mom wouldn’t be disappointed in her.
Then why this competition? Why now?
She pumped her arms before using all her remaining strength to jump once more. This time, when she landed, her ankle rolled, and she cried out as her leg collapsed beneath her.
There was her answer. All of this could end at any moment. Just ask her mother who’d had to stop dancing after an injury. For once, Lillian wanted to know if she had what it took.
“Are you okay?”
At the voice, Lillian jerked her head up, her eyes clashing with those of a boy who looked about her age. He wore tight jeans with a rip in one knee and a black t-shirt. Shaggy brown hair flopped into his eyes. He pushed a steam mop in front of him.
“Fine.” She scrambled to her feet, testing her ankle. It didn’t hurt when she put weight on it, and she released a breath.
The boy pushed hair out of his face. “You’re trying too hard.”
“What?”
“The jump. I’ve been watching you. You’re trying so hard to make every element perfect that when one small thing is off, it throws the entire jump out of control.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Sure, and I’m supposed to take dance advice from a janitor?”
He shook his head and pushed the steam cleaner farther into the room. “I need to clean this room. I am just the janitor after all. Are you done here?”
She crossed her arms. “No.”
“That’s not really my problem then, Princess. Feel free to go finish messing up your dance in one of the practice rooms in the back.” He turned on the cleaner, and the whir filled the room, clashing against the music.
The noise pounded in Lillian’s skull, and she couldn’t take it. Retrieving her phone, she turned off the music and faced the boy once more. He ignored her as he started cleaning the floors.
She walked up beside him and yelled over the noise. “How did you know?”
“What?” He looked sideways at her.
“That was I messing up little parts before the landing. How did you know? You’re the janitor.”
He shook his head and ignored the question.
“My jumps were fine.” She refused to let him tell her they weren’t. Only the landings needed work. “If you knew anything about dance, you’d know that.”
He turned off the steam cleaner and faced her. “You know what, you’re right. I don’t know anything, so ignore my advice. But this janitor has too much cleaning to do before he leaves for the night. You need to leave.”
“Wait… you’re kicking me out?”
“Yes, Princess. I don’t know how they cater to you at that fancy academy of yours, but here in Twin Rivers, you don’t get special treatment just because your mom was a dancer once upon a time.”
“You know who I am?” How? Did everyone know who her mom was?
He shrugged. “Some of us turn into pumpkins if we’re late getting home, and I really like being human, so can I get back to work?”
“Cinderella doesn’t turn into a pumpkin, she… wait, you’re calling yourself Cinderella? That’s a little strange.”
To her surprise, he laughed. “It was a joke. You know, something us normal people do.” He gestured to the steam cleaner. “May I?”
She studied him for a moment. How did a guy who looked like he belonged on a surfboard or on a couch playing video games in someone’s basement end up working in a dance studio? It wasn’t her business. She walked to her bag, very aware of his eyes on her. Slipping her coat on, she slung the bag over her shoulder and walked past him without another word.
Ordering an Uber on her phone, she lowered herself to the curb to wait, her mind going back to the jumps she’d failed to land. They weren’t complex, but as she’d sailed through the air, her mind never stopped working. Maybe the janitor was right. Maybe she’d tried too hard.
Or maybe she didn’t have it in her to win this competition after all.
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