Dad and Mama sit to my left. Mama’s leg twitches to an angry beat, and it rubs against mine.
I stare at the side of Will’s face. I close my eyes and think back to that night. How I laughed coming out of the club. How I felt happier than I ever had in my entire life at that moment. How I thought I’d finally found a place where I belonged, where people loved ballet as much as I do.
I try to remember how the hands on my back felt. I wonder if I should’ve recognized their size and shape and feel from all the times I’d danced with Will, letting him turn me and lift me and parade me around. All the emotions I’d buried rise to the surface.
How did I not know?
A voice inside says: You didn’t want to know.
“Please don’t press charges. He’s sorry. Right, Will?” Mrs. O’Reilly slaps his arm. The sound echoes.
Mama presses back in her chair.
“Say you’re sorry.” I can see Mrs. O’Reilly’s nails digging into Will’s pale flesh, leaving red half-moons behind. He doesn’t move a muscle. Her southern accent makes the words sound even harsher. “My idiot son’s disgraced the family in more ways than one.”
“He deserves to be punished by the law.” Mama doesn’t look at her. Only straight ahead, like she’s spotting for a pirouette. “He almost killed my child.”
“And he’ll be forever punished by the good Lord himself.” Will’s mother reaches out to touch my arm. I flinch and pull back.
“I don’t know what else there is to discuss, Mr. K.” Mama rises from her seat and picks up her bag, ready to go.
Will breaks down in full sobs.
“Now wait.” My dad grabs Mama’s hand and gets her to sit back down. “We should leave it to Gigi. All this happened to her.”
“Gigi doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t feel comfortable with,” Mama says, but Mrs. O’Reilly interrupts.
“The good Christian thing is forgiveness. Will knows he faces judgment from the above. He doesn’t need your—”
I finally look at Will. His skin is the color of his hair. He doesn’t look up from his lap. I’m a terrible judge of character. I’m too trusting. I’m too naïve. “Enough,” I whisper at first, then yell it over and over again until it’s the only word in the room. After last night, I want all this to go away. I want to start the year over. I want all the wounds to close and stop bleeding. I just want to dance and not have to deal with all this. I want to go back to being the old me.
“Why did you do it?” I say, turning in my seat to face Will head-on. My heart knocks against my rib cage, its erratic beats making me light-headed. “Why?”
Will looks up finally. Tears stream down his face, but he’s not wearing mascara today. “You have to listen to me. Please. Let me tell you what happened. I was trying to get Bette in trouble. I didn’t know you’d actually get hurt. Henri promised me you’d just trip, twist your ankle. Not be able to dance Giselle. I didn’t see the taxi. He made me believe that he liked me.” His words give me goose bumps. The boy he liked and had a strange relationship with was Henri. “I swear I didn’t want to hurt you like that.” His cries turn to hiccups. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”
The last phrase reverberates between us.
“I don’t care why you did it, but I don’t want to talk about this anymore, or even hear about it.” I turn to Mama. “I don’t want to press charges. I want to move on. I just want to dance.” I turn back to Will. The relief on his face is so sudden, so desperate. “And, Will, I don’t want to talk to you ever again.”
I walk out, leaving Will to his own little version of hell.
29.
Bette
I SKIP BREAKFAST, HEADING STRAIGHT downstairs and out back to meet my dealer to buy more pills. My prescription stash is long gone, and I definitely need a pick-me-up. I’ve been waiting for him under the dim streetlamp by the Dumpsters for half an hour—and so far no-show. I tuck myself farther in the little alcove behind the back door, stomping my feet a bit to warm myself up. The February air freezes into a poufy cloud as I breathe out.
I check my phone every three seconds. The screen is empty, which has been a trend these days. I smash my furry boot into a mound of snow. Eleanor is still avoiding me, Alec hasn’t wanted to do more than grab food in the café, Henri makes my skin crawl when he so much as glances my way, and even June doesn’t have any time. Cassie just stares at me.
I shove my phone in my back pocket as Jarred walks up. “Finally!”
He shushes me, but then pulls me into a greasy hug. He’s tall and skinny, sickly pale, with a full beard growing in, making him look far older than a junior at Columbia. I’ve been buying from him since he first moved to New York three years ago, and I know a lot of the company members do, too, because he dated a dancer back in the day. I met him at Adele’s apartment.
I scoff. “You got my stuff?”
“Nope.” He decides to have a cigarette.
“Need a drink, too?” I cross my arms over my chest. “Stop playing with me.”
“Lighten up.” He pulls out a couple of tiny paper packets, and it’s a rainbow of pills—baby blue, pale yellow, even a pretty lavender.
“What are those?” I pull the purple packet right out of his hands.
“Bonus!” His grin is slimy, hopeful. “These are stronger than the Adderall.”
“Just want the regulars.” I pull two hundred bucks out of my left boot and hand him the cash. “Thanks. Later.” I wave him away, and slip the pills into my pocket.
“That’s all I get for coming this early?” He has his arms open like I’m supposed to fold myself inside them.
“I gave you a tip. Now go.” I wait until he walks away, then turn back around and freeze. Cassie stands right behind me.
A large grin creeps across her face. “How’s Jarred?”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” I try to brush past her. She doesn’t let me pass.
“Which ones did you buy this month? Are they blue, maybe? Or white?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sure, Bette. Two minutes back on campus, and the games have begun again, right? You going to drug Gigi this time? Or maybe you’ll try to get me again?”
“I said I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She gets right up in my face now, and I can feel her hot breath—strawberries and cinnamon—hit my cheek.
I back up.
“You don’t remember? When you made Will drop me and send me to the hospital and rehabilitation for a year and a half. Or the way you messed with my diet pills. Made me faint in class.”
I’m caught off guard, so I back away a bit more, realizing too late that she’s trapped me against the Dumpster. My head brushes against the cold metal. I don’t know if it’s just the lack of light, but there’s a gleam in her eye that’s making me nervous, something I’ve never seen before. “Maybe you need to go back to rehab.” My fists ball. “Because you’re clearly having a breakdown.”