Maybe I didn’t.
The bell rings faintly, signalling the start of the showcase seating. People begin drifting toward the theatre doors, the clack of heels and dress shoes echoing off the walls.
Lilia loops her arm through mine, eyes dancing. “Ready?”
I nod, though a quiet flutter stirs in my chest. Beside me, Kym lingers. “Your hair looks really great,” she says quietly.
I blink, surprised by the softness in her voice. “So does yours.”
A small smile breaks across her lips, and she ducks her head.
We move together through the halls, the four of us, heels clicking in rhythm. And we file into the theatre, the velvet seats filling fast around us. The lights are still up, casting everything in a soft amber glow. Teachers stand near the aisles, directing people, but even they seem different. Somehow happier.
More relaxed, maybe.
“Move,” Lilia hisses under her breath, weaving through the crowd like a woman on a mission. “Move. Out of my way. Elbows in, people.”
Her hand is wrapped tight around my wrist as she drags me behind her, Bea and Kym in tow.
“Do you even know where you’re going?” Kym huffs, slightly breathless as we sidestep a group of year twelves.
“Yes. The front,” Lilia says without missing a beat. “Best seats. Every year. Tradition. Move.”
People are already finding their places, and yet, Lilia makes no move to slow down. Instead, she shoves past a tall boy in a blazer who gives us a dirty look. She smiles sweetly and does it anyway.
We reach the front row, and to our collective dismay, Berlin Brooks is already there, looking devastatingly stunning. Flanked by Ava and Zia, of course, who look just as incredible.
Her gaze flicks up. Lands on us. Cold. Assessing.
She sees me.
“Oh, no,” Lilia mutters.
“Don’t,” I whisper back, but it’s too late.
Lilia turns to me with pleading eyes. “Can we switch? I can’t sit next to her. I just can’t.”
I stare at her.
“Please,” she adds.
I sigh, already moving. “Fine.”
We awkwardly shuffle down the row, swapping seats until I find myself settling beside Berlin, whose head turns slightly in my direction.
She gives me a once-over. Her gaze pauses on my hair.
“New look?” she asks coolly.
“Yeah,” I say, matching her tone. “Thought I’d try something different.”
Berlin just nods once, before turning her attention back to the program in her lap.
“Your twin sister is performing, right?”
“Paris,” she says. “She’s dancing Odile. The Black Swan.”
I nod, though the name doesn’t ring many bells. “Is that one of the lead roles?”
