“It’s not a secret. I’ve known Bette for like ten years. And, yes, we dated, but before that, we were just friends. Our families know each other.”
“And you don’t think I know all that?” My voice rises and I feel my heartbeat start to pick up speed.
Alec’s entire face is red now, even his hairline. Anger shows so easily on his pale skin.
“She hurt me, Alec. She shoved me in front of a taxi.” It’s the first time I’ve said those words out loud. The first time I’ve really believed them. I bite back tears. I won’t cry. I’m too angry to cry. I push them down.
“Excuse me.” One of the Level 6 ballet teachers steps into the studio. “Your noise level is unacceptable.” She shakes her head, then presses her finger to her lips. We ignore her.
“I don’t believe she did it,” he says in a low whisper.
“Really, Alec?” I say. “What more proof do you need? For them to do a documentary on it?”
I leap up, snatch my dance bag, and stomp away from him. A cry claws its way up my throat and I swallow it down three, four, five times. My bottom lip quivers and I bite down so hard I almost break the skin again.
“Gigi, wait!” Alec calls out.
I head for the guest bathroom near the front office. I lock myself in the bathroom and let out a scream.
I clench my hands. Bette’s face pops up in my head, and for the first time ever I want to physically hurt someone, to take it all out on her face. Every angry thought, every tear, every upset. After all this time, after everything that Bette put me through, and he’s still defending her. Well, he can have her. Maybe they deserve each other. Or maybe I deserve this. Maybe it’s karma after what I did to Eleanor. Guilt and anger hit me in waves.
But I thought this was something that might last. Something in the way that we dance together. Something that would bring out the best in both of us. I guess not. I wipe my nose and take deep breaths.
“You’re fine,” I say out loud. “You will be fine.”
I splash my face with water and fan my eyes. No one can know I’ve been crying. I pull eyedrops out from my ballet bag, as well as a little makeup. I put myself together again, and reenter the hallway with a smile. It’s time for rehearsal. I’ve got to keep it together.
I am fine.
“Gigi!” Will barrels into the studio. His grin is so wide it looks like it hurts. He waves around one of those celeb magazines he’s always reading, and it takes me a minute to realize why he’s so excited. “People. Page fifty-two! You are gorgeous!”
He squishes right up next to me and we pore over a four-page spread, with shots of me dancing with Will, hanging with Cassie, and even in class. Along the side of the third page sits a strip of photo booth pictures of me and Alec. He wouldn’t talk to the reporter or be in the shoot, but I handed over these photos to work the “it couple” angle as part of the story. The headline shouts “American Ballet Conservatory’s Phoenix Rising!” The Q&A talks about my struggle to recover. I didn’t mention Bette’s name, but the magazine speculates about her involvement and her dismissal from school. Right there, in black and white, it quotes Mr. K calling me “a real contender for the American Ballet Company apprenticeship.”
“It’s amazing!” I take a few quick photos of the spread with my phone, and compose a group text to Mama, Aunt Leah, and a few friends. As I hit send, I have the perfect idea. “Will, do me a favor. Get me a hundred copies of this magazine. I’ll give you the money. I need to send them to a very special someone.” We smile at each other.
In the studio, the Level 8 boys and girls are spread out, waiting for Mr. K and Damien, who enter with Morkie and Pavlovich, the male ballet teacher Doubrava, and others I’ve never seen before. They take their seats in chairs set up at the front of the studio. Mr. K claps his hands to call us all to attention. We’re on our feet and huddle together like his flock.
“An update on Eleanor: she’s home and doing better, and will return to school in a week. Tonight, I will meet with each of you individually in my office. Damien will observe the meetings. We will discuss where you’re at and chart your progress. The Swan Lake audition is two weeks away. You must be ready.”
Mr. K takes Sei-Jin first, then Henri. The girl-boy pattern continues while the rest of us wait, and eventually they run out of boys. The teachers watch us, and some dancers are afraid to even talk. They stretch and take deep breaths. These surprise individual meetings have everyone rattled. I hear Alec’s voice and I decide to sink into a face-down stretch to tune everything out. I can’t rid my thoughts of Eleanor. I think about what Mama would think if she knew what I’d done. I think about whether I should tell Eleanor and apologize.
The secretary returns to the studio door and announces the next dancer. I try not to look at Alec when his name is called. I try to ignore the ache inside of me now that we’re not talking, and sort of broken up. I decide to meditate while stretching. My body sinks into the floor and my breathing steadies. The deep pulls in my hamstrings and back relax me. The noises in the room disappear, and all I hear is the steady thrum of my relaxed heart.
Eleanor’s name still echoes in the room. It sends a tremor through my body. I close my eyes and try to forget how red her face turned and how she gripped her throat and how her lips ballooned within seconds of dipping veggies into the hummus. I try to forget the sound of her losing air as her throat closed. I try to forget the way she looked at me. Helpless. Afraid.
“She’s okay now,” I mutter to myself. “She’s fine.”
Cassie laughs. I catch glimpses of her and think about how I’m going to confront her about the hummus she gave me and the lie she told me about Eleanor’s allergy. I don’t know what calling her out will feel like or how she’ll react. I’m terrified of losing her as a friend.
I shake out my arms and legs, and try to focus on dancing instead.
I will be picked to dance Odette or Odile in Swan Lake.
I will be given a spot in the company at the end of the year.
I feel Cassie’s hand on my arm. “Gigi, they’ve called you like four times.”
I sit up too quickly and all the blood rushes to my head. People laugh a little as I scramble toward the door.
“Sorry,” I say to the secretary. “I didn’t hear you say my name.”
I feel terrible that I don’t know her name, but she doesn’t answer or acknowledge that I’ve even said anything. She takes long, rushed strides. I keep opening my mouth to ask her a question or two. I can’t get any words out and she’s not turning her head to give me a reassuring smile or to make sure I’m even there. We’re down the hall and through the lobby in what feels like a second, and then down the corridor.
She holds the door open to Mr. K’s office.
“Have a seat, Gigi.” He doesn’t look up from his desk to ensure that it’s actually me. Damien sits in a nearby chair, taking notes and reviewing paperwork.
I slide into the chair and sit on my hands so they don’t shake. Mr. K turns over several pieces of paper, then finally looks up at me.
“How are you feeling?” His brow furrows and deep wrinkles crease his forehead.
“I’m fine.”