I straightened my back and tried to follow along.
“Gianna, those toes need to actually point.”
“I am pointing!”
“You’re bending your foot at a weird angle. That’s not the same thing. Try again.”
“This is harder than it looks.”
“Everything worth doing is hard. Again.”
Lily was laughing now, clearly enjoying watching us struggle with movements she was starting to master. We moved through positions, Delia keeping it fun while still teaching proper technique.
“My legs are going to fall off,” Gianna groaned after the tenth plié.
“They’re not. You’re just discovering muscles you forgot existed. Watch Lily. See how she’s doing it? Learn from the eight-year-old.”
“The eight-year-old is naturally graceful. I’m naturally clumsy.”
“Everyone’s clumsy until they practice. Again.”
I caught movement and turned to see Hector standing in the hallway entrance. He was watching us, hands in his pockets, andI wondered how long he’d been standing there in the doorway like a ghost I’d accidentally summoned.
Our eyes met—and held, longer than made sense.
For a second, maybe two, neither of us moved. He stood there in the shadows of the hallway, and I stood in the bright living room attempting ballet in my socks.
My cheeks heated. I waved awkwardly.
He lifted his hand in response, then touched the back of his neck. The gesture looked almost adorable, like he’d been caught observing something private.
“Is that Mr. Valdez?” Delia whispered—loudly enough that it wasn’t a whisper at all.
“Don’t make it weird.”
Gianna’s face lit up with mischief. “You know what would be fun? If Mr. Valdez joined us.”
“Hell will freeze over first,” I muttered, glancing back—but Hector had already vanished down the hallway like he’d sensed danger.
Delia got us back on track.
Lily practiced with more confidence, and watching her move with that much joy made every awkward stretch worth it.
During a water break, I grabbed my water bottle and noticed Delia standing near the window with her phone pressed to her ear. She stood turned away from us, shoulders tight—a posture that was very un-Delia.
I watched as she lowered the phone, stared at the screen for a moment, then lifted it back to her ear. Waited. Lowered it again with a sigh.
“You okay?” I asked, moving closer.
“Yeah. Fine.” She shoved her phone in her pocket, but her usual brightness was dimmed.
“Delia.”
“What?”
“You’re never this quiet unless something’s wrong.”
She pulled her phone back out and stared at the screen like it had personally offended her. “Jake’s not answering.” Her voice cracked just enough to betray how scared she was.
