“I’m sure she’s looking after herself,” Dad says, but he sounds dubious, too.
I close my eyes. They feel heavy, a little swollen. “I try. I’m just so happy I get to dance Odile, you know?” But just as I ask the question, I realize that theycan’tknow. They don’t understand that this intensity is how things have to be.
We talk a little more. Mom asks where I’ve visited in Paris, what I’m eating for breakfast, what my plans are for the weekend. I answer them all, trying not to sound too annoyed. Because I know what she’s really asking: are you doing something other than ballet?
I mention that I’ve made good friends here—Lucy, Anouk—and that we sometimes take a walk around the neighborhood after dinner. Last night we stopped at afromagerie,bought the stinkiest cheese they had, and dared each other to finish our slice first. It wasn’t as disgusting as I’d imagined, but my breath still tasted foul this morning, even after I brushed my teeth twice. All I could think was: never, ever eat cheese before seeing Louis.
“I’m jealous,” Dad says with a laugh. “Sounds fun.”
But then I let out a loud yawn, and Mom sighs. “Mia.”
“Yes?”
“Just…”
“What, Mom?”
“You don’t have to push yourself to the limits. Remember that we’ll still be proud of you, no matter what.”
My throat tightens. I want to hang up and erase her words from my memory. Because maybe she’ll still love and respect me if I fail, but I certainly won’t.
THE WEEKEND ROLLSaround and I’m ecstatic to sleep in. I enjoy a late breakfast at the dorm with my friends before I leave to meet Louis for…well, I don’t know. He texted me that he had a great idea for our afternoon together, but when I asked questions, he would only say that it’s a surprise.
At the breakfast table, everyone shares their plans for the day. Picnics. Sightseeing. Shopping. I nod and smile, but mostly I just focus on mytartinesin silence.
“You’re coming with us to the beach?” Lucy asks with a laugh after Anouk mentions Paris-Plages, the city “beach” set up on the banks of the Seine for summer.
“I can’t,” I reply, looking sideways. “My aunts are in town today.”
Lucy frowns at me, and I catch an inquisitive glance from Audrey. I’msucha bad liar.
“What are you going to do?” Anouk asks, leaning over me to grab a yogurt.
“It’s…a surprise.” I probably blush, but at least that part is true.
“Okay,” Lucy says tentatively, “but you’re not ditching us tomorrow.”
Tomorrow is Bastille Day, the French national holiday. We’ve been talking all week about what we’ll do, and where we’ll watch the fireworks from. Lucy even started a group chat with everyone from the dorm so we could share ideas. Going to Champ de Mars near the Tour Eiffel is the current winning option, but we’ll have to be there very early if we want a good viewing spot.
I try to look offended. “Of course not!”
There’s no chance of me running off with Louis tomorrow. He told me he always spendsle quatorze juillet—as the French call it—with his dad and some extended family.
“What time are you meeting your aunts?” Lucy asks. She pops a bright red strawberry in her mouth but doesn’t take her eyes off me. “And where?”
I stare at her for a moment, wondering if she’s just being curious or…Wait a minute. It’s Lucy we’re talking about. Curiosity is her middle name.
I check my watch. “Very soon, actually.” In fact, I’m not meeting Louis until the afternoon, but I won’t be able to keep up my lie for much longer. As I feel my cheeks grow hot, I realize that I should get out of here before I come clean and blurt out Louis’s name. “We’re meeting near Opéra Garnier.”
Lucy, Anouk, and Audrey all look at me at the same time, and I think I’m about to get caught. Deny everything, Mia. It’s for your own good.
“Well, have fun,” Anouk says, elbowing Lucy.
Audrey shrugs and…that’s it. I’m off the hook. Still, I’m not going to push my luck. I get up, clear out my breakfast, and say a quick goodbye before rushing upstairs to finish getting ready.
Once on the street, I decide that—though my blistered feet may disagree—the best way to kill time is to just wander the streets of Paris in the direction of Opéra Garnier. A few minutes in, I cross the bridge in front of Cathédrale Notre-Dame, finally taking the time to admire it face on. It was struck by a terrible fire a few years ago, and parts of it are still covered in scaffolding, but I can’t imagine it looked more majestic than this. I take a deep breath, feeling a little woozy at how lucky I am that I get to discover a city that so many people dream of seeing. One day, when I’m a professional dancer, I hope to travel all over the world to dance, but I’m not sure it will ever feel as special as it does rightnow.
When I’m on the other side of the Seine, I check the map on my phone and realize that my route will take me right past Le Louvre. On the way, I try to listen in to the conversations around me, and catch little bits of French.
