I mean, it's notinaccurate.
The group gabbing, smoking, stretching, and drinking coffee out back breaks up as we realize the time. Someone opens the back door, and everyone’s filing insidejustas Milena comes rushing up, hefting her dance bag back onto her shoulder.
“Sorry!” she blurts as she crashes into our little group, a wild grin on her flushed face. “I was on my way out the door and totally forgot I had to?—”
“Yeah, whatever bullshit you spent the whole drive here concocting in your pretty head, Ms. Thang,” Val snickers, “you can save it for another day.”
Milena’s brows furrow. “I don’t know what?—”
Lyra bursts out laughing. “Girl, those hickeys arefresh.”
The rest of us, even Milena, crack up as we all head inside.
Brooklyn manages to sprint onto stagejustin time. Then it’s immediately into morning class, then into smaller groups. Madame pulls Naomi and me aside to have us start working on our stuff for the gala. Naomi skips over to the far side of the stage to start warming up for herCarmensolo, and I move to the other wing to become Giselle, the innocent young peasant girl who goes mad and ultimately dies of a broken heart.
Except, as I start working, a weight settles on my chest.
There’s nothing innocent about me.
I’m fucking around with my dead best friend's great love. That makes mehorrible.
I repeat the steps over and over to commit them to muscle memory. When I take a breather, movement near the back of the stage catches my eye. I turn and watch Milena dance for a moment, and then a stabbing sensation sinks into me.
What. The.Fuck.
Milena isn’t just dancing. She’s dancing the very steps from Giselle's Mad Scene that I’ve just been working on.
And she’s doing themfor Madame Kuzmina.
I watch her move through one of the transitions flawlessly before she stops facing our director. Madame beams at her—fuckingbeams, which believe me is like seeing an actual fucking Martian walking down 5thAvenue with a Saks shopping bag. She nods at Milena encouragingly as the willowy blonde gets into starting position and begins the scene again.
What the FUCK?!
I know rivalries exist in the ballet world, even between friends. But Madame gavemethat part right in front of everyone. And Milena fuckinghugged meand told me how glad she was for me.
And here she is, wowing our director with moves she has clearly worked on.
Obviouslyangling for my fucking spot.
Something unhinged and cold takes hold of me. My eyes narrow murderously. My lips curl. My pulse becomes erratic, and I don’t even realize I’m storming toward Milena and Madame Kuzmina until Brooklyn suddenly materializes in front of me and grabs my upper arm.
“Whoa! Hang on, lady!” she hisses, tightening her grip on my arm and yanking me around, spinning me away from the two of them before she frowns deeply and peers into my face. “Dude, are you okay?”
Anger curls inside me as I struggle to form words.
“I—she—” I swallow, shaking my head. “What the fuck is she doing?!” I finally snarl, my chest rising and falling. Sweat sheens my back and my forehead as my brows knit tightly.
Brooklyn looks puzzled as she glances past me.
“Madame asked Milena to be your understudy. She…has to know the steps?” She peers at me again, her eyes narrowing in concern.
I purse my lips. “When? When the hell did this happen?!”
“Dove, she announced it at the start of rehearsal today.“ She looks at me, concern written all over her face. “You were literally standing next to me.”
I blink, then blink again. Wordlessly, I turn, my chest still heaving quickly as I glance back to where Milena is working one of the transitions again. She stops, sees me watching her, and beams as she waves.
“Hey, don’t get sick or anything!” she shouts over the cacophony of the studio. “There’s no way I would nail this like you're going to!”
