What the fuck is happening.
I feel numb as I manage to smile weakly back at Milena and then turn to face Brooklyn. She’s frowning at me again, looking very worried.
“Hey… Is everything okay?” Brooklyn says gently, still peering at me. “I mean, I get that there’s a lot of pressure right now, with the whole Bane thing. You want to like, sit for a sec? You look kinda?—”
“I’m fine,” I mumble, forcing a wry smile. “I just…didn’t sleep great last night.” I force the fake smile on my face a little wider. “Should have had a second coffee this morning, I guess.”
“Ugh, Ihatewhen I don’t sleep enough,” Brooklyn sighs. “Makes me all crazy feeling.” She glances at me again. “You’re okay, then?”
“Yeah, for sure.” I smile again, tapping my head. “Just going nuts. No biggie.”
She giggles. “Well, at least you'll be in character, Giselle.”
I swallow uncomfortably as she walks away.
What thefuck?
I do manageto keep it together enough to finish rehearsal. But after I’ve showered and changed, I pull the diary back out of my bag and read it as I walk to where I usually meet Dad’s guys in the Escalade.
Dear Boo,
I’m scared.
My brow furrows as I re-read the opening line, threading my way up Madison Avenue through the thick crowd of people around me.
Scared? Of what? I glance at the top of the page and realize the entry is dated just a few weeks before she died.
I can’t tell anyone. Let’s be real, who’s going to believe me? Not Grandma, of course. I'd tell Dove, but we’re so distant these days.
My heart sinks. We weredistant? When the fuck were Lark and Ieveranything except glued at the hip?
Maybe once upon a time, she’d have believed me, but not now. I think part of it is the Bane thing. I wish I could talk to her about that, too. But it’s too weird to ask her that to her face. I think she’d take it the wrong way or get angry.
I know, I know. I should just say it. She’s my best friend. Or WAS. I hope she still is. I miss how we were. I really miss having someone to talk to about all this.
I think something bad is going to happen to me. I can feel it, like when the birds go quiet right before a storm.
I figured out his secret.
I think he knows.
I blink away tears, my breath turning ragged as my heart hammers in my chest. I swallow a lump in my throat, navigating the thick crowd of rush hour pedestrians around me as my eyes return to the words on the page.
I think he might try to hurt me.
I think he’s going to kill me, Boo.
Reality itself screeches to a stop around me. My throat closes off, my pulse thumping an off-kilter, staccato beat as a whining roar fills my ears.
I think he’s going to kill me, Boo.
My hands are shaking as I slam the diary shut and jam it into the side pocket of my dance bag. Numb, cold, and trembling, I stutter to a stop at the curb, waiting for the walk light as evening traffic zooms by.
I figured out his secret.
I think he knows.
I think he might try to hurt me.
