“You okay?” Cassie says.
“Would you be?”
“No, and I’m not. I hate her just as much as you do.”
The petit rats whisper and smile in her direction. Some even venture over to say hello and welcome her.
“We should leave.” I start to pack my things.
“No, I refuse to do anything differently now that she’s here. You should do the same. She’ll get what she deserves.” Cassie says the word she loudly, and Bette looks in our direction for the shortest second. Her eyes seem even brighter, even bluer, like she hasn’t missed one hour of sleep since she’s been gone.
I snap the plastic spoon in my hand. Orange flecks shoot all over my tray and the table.
“Chill out. You can’t let her see that she’s getting to you. She gets off on it.” Cassie wipes up my mess.
Two of the new girls sit at her table—Isabela and Madison—and they fawn over her like she’s a superstar. Maybe she is.
Alec looks up, and our eyes lock. I wish flames could flash in my pupils to let him know just how upset I am.
“Cassie, I don’t know how you stay calm.” Anger bubbles up in me. I remind myself that it’s not good for me, that it could affect my heart.
“You have to know what you want.” She sips her tea, unfazed.
What do I want? This was supposed to be my moment—I’m playing the lead in Swan Lake at the American Ballet Conservatory. Which means I have a chance at an apprenticeship. I should be reveling in this. Instead, all I can focus on is her.
“I want her gone.”
“She will be. Trust me, Gigi. Her being back is the best thing. Because she’ll do it to herself.” Cassie winks like she’s the villain in some movie. “Have you talked to Will?”
The sound of his name sends a shiver through me. Bette spread the rumor that Will pushed me. She said it’s the reason she’s back and the suspension was revoked. I think about him crying and being dragged out of the building. I can’t forget the look on his face. He won’t respond to my calls and texts.
“No.” I flick the broken spoon around in my soup.
“I bet you it’s true. He’ll say she talked him into it. But that boy has a mind of his own.”
How can someone be talked into shoving another person in front of a car? My phone beeps. A text from Mama, who’s still crashing at Aunt Leah’s: I’m downstairs. Mr. K’s office. Now.
“My mom’s here.” I swallow the last few spoonfuls of my carrot soup. I look over at Bette again. She waves at me.
I leap up. My chair bangs into the table with a loud thud. People stop eating and stare. I feel Alec’s eyes on me, too. I slam the chair into the table and storm toward the café exit. I hear Cassie call out from behind. I take the elevator down to the first floor and march myself right to Mr. K’s office.
Mama leans forward in her chair and wags her finger in Mr. K’s face. Her necklace slaps against a picture frame on his desk. His eyes bulge a little, and I hope he doesn’t think she’s as completely crazy as she looks. I stare into my phone, texting Will a question mark over and over again. I’ve sent him an average of three per day, but no answer.
“How dare you not have the common courtesy to inform me before announcing that girl’s return. Gigi called me in tears. This is simply unacceptable.”
“Mrs. Stewart, I tried calling you several times. But I couldn’t reach you or your husband. This is not something you leave on an answering machine. And I wanted to tell Gigi, but there just wasn’t any time to set up a meeting. It all happened too quickly and—”
“And nothing, Mr. K. You didn’t try hard enough.” Her tone gets louder and louder. “I want to meet with her. I won’t be comfortable until we do.” Mama finally sits back in the chair with a thud. I try to touch her arm and get her to stop, but she brushes away from me. When her mind is set, it’s an arrow, never veering off its path.
“I don’t think anything that we do will make you feel comfortable.” He sighs and crosses his hands over his chest.
“Is my daughter’s safety not important? And you split the role between the two of them, so they have to spend all this time together. Perfect for the girl to harass my child.” She rises from her seat again. Her anger stirs into mine. My heart races. My monitor buzzes.
“The role was always going to be split. It’s a student ballet. We must give all our students an opportunity to be showcased. The Level 8 year is about exposure, especially for the company directors to see their talents. And since the roles are divided, they’ll hardly be rehearsing together at all.”
“These two have history. Couldn’t another girl have split the role with Giselle?”
“Mrs. Stewart, I assure you, this will be fine. We make our casting decisions based on the dancers’ skill and what they bring to the roles. Giselle is the perfect Odette. Ethereal, light. Bette is her opposite. We took the opportunity to cast this ballet as it should be danced.”
“I want a meeting with Rebecca Abney. This is all ridiculous.” Mama slaps her hand on his desk.
“I can call her and see if she’d be willing to meet. That’s all I can promise.”
“I’ll be staying at my sister’s in Brooklyn as long as Gigi needs me. So I can be here anytime.”
When Mr. K doesn’t respond quite fast enough, Mama motions her hand forward at the phone on his desk. He sighs, picks it up, and dials Mrs. Abney’s number from memory. In that moment, I know just how important Bette is.
I sink back in the chair. I plug my ears, pull my legs up into the chair, cross them underneath me, and try to get comfortable. I’m in my leotard and tights for afternoon ballet. I imagine the four of us in that little room—Mama and me and Bette and Mrs. Abney—and the shouting match it would trigger. The mean words and dark intentions and secrets spilled. I have my own secrets now. I have to protect myself.
“I don’t want to meet with her.” I stand up.
Mr. K hangs up the phone. Mama grabs at my arms, trying to get me to sit back down.
“I just want to know how she got to come back, after, after . . . all she did.” I fight back a storm of angry tears welling just under the surface.
Mr. K leaves his desk and walks over. He takes my hand in his.
“This world of ours, ballet, is so—what’s the word?—complicated.” He rubs his chin, and the sound the bristles of his beard make against his hand distracts me. “Bette Abney did not push you. That’s what her suspension was for. A violent act. She already paid for the other things she did to you, the suffering she caused. Handsomely, as I understand it.” He lifts my chin up and wipes away one tear that’s managed to escape. “So chin up, moya korichnevaya. You are strong. It will all be okay.”
“I’ve got to get ready for class,” I say. Mama kisses me, and I slip out of the room. I head for Studio A to drop my bag off and find a place to stretch. The studio’s empty aside from one girl, facedown in a stretch. She looks up. It’s Bette.
We stare at each other. I let my gaze burn into hers. I don’t move until Morkie and the other dancers drift in. I want her to know I will always be watching now.