New England Theater.
This is where the careers of the best dancers in the country begin. This is where dreams come true. My body begins to tingle. NowI’mhere. This ismydream. I nod and hold my breath for a moment as we enter through the wide doorway and step into the theater. “I’m about to die of excitement!”
“That makes two of us.” Mae laughs breathlessly and looks around with wide eyes as we both try and fail to get an impression of the entire inside of the theater.
It’s beautiful, and we’re not even in the auditorium yet, just the foyer. The plush red carpet absorbs any sounds made by our feet. My gaze lingers on the white walls. Here, the plaster moldings are covered in gold leaf, and they glow warmly as the rays of sunlight reach them through the arched floor-to-ceiling windows. The coat-check room is tucked away so discreetly in a corner that it’s not even noticeable at first. There’s a bar on the opposite side of the foyer, and spread throughout the area are small, round gold tables and armchairs upholstered in red velvet. But the centerpiece of the foyer is the huge door that leads into the theater. To either side, wide spiral staircases give access to the upper tiers. The voices around us hush as they enter, as though no one would dare to disturb the awe-inspiring silence in these sacred halls.
I let myself be carried by the stream of students and follow Mae into the auditorium. I get goose bumps as soon as I see the stage. The plush red curtains are raised, and although it may look like a totally normal stage, at the same time, it’s not.
It’s the stage upon which all our fates will be decided.
“Look, there are two seats free at the front.” Mae touches my arm and draws my attention away from the stage. She points at two seats next to the aisle. I follow her down the narrow steps between the left and center sections, and again, I don’t know what to look at first.
The parterre is divided into three parts, and it’s even larger than I expected—eight seats to the right, eight to the left, and sixteen in the middle. I don’t have time to count the rows, but together with the upper tiers, there must be at least enough seats for not only the two hundred students but also their families when there are performances. The seats are upholstered with the same red velvet as the chairs in the foyer, and the walls are also white and decorated with similar gold-leaf-covered plaster moldings.
“You look like you’ve just landed in your own personal wonderland,” Mae observes, sinking into one of the seats.
Relieved that she left the place on the aisle free for me so I don’t have to squeeze past anyone, I sit down next to her. I’m just about to answer when all at once, the whole room goes quiet, and all eyes turn to the stage.
Principal Pearson steps into the spotlight. He’s a tall, thin man in his forties, and he moves with a grace that clearly betrays his years as a dancer. His dark hair, which is shot through with silver, is combed back smoothly. He’s wearing a gray blazer and dark blue trousers. The smile on his face is both friendly and authoritative.He’s one of those people whose personality immediately fills a room, no matter how large it is.
Now he steps to the edge of the stage, his hands resting casually in the pockets of his trousers. He is just about to start his speech when I hear quick steps walking into the room and then a burst of nervous laughter. Almost simultaneously, everyone turns around to look. A boy and a girl are trying to sneak into the last row as quietly as possible, but they freeze abruptly as they notice that everyone is staring at them.
The girl turns to look at the stage, an innocent expression on her face. Her long, dark hair flows softly over her shoulders. She’s tall, taller than me but just as delicately built. She’s beautiful. She moves like a fairy.
I recognize the boy who walked in with her just as Pearson says his name.
“Jase! Skye! Why don’t you sit here in the front, since you’re already late?” It’s a rhetorical question, and a mischievous murmur spreads through the room.
I don’t understand a word. I can only stare athimas he turns around. He exchanges a brief, incomprehensible glance with Skye and then walks toward the front of the auditorium.
Jase.
Chapter 3
Zoe
Have you ever been in love?
I’m not sure. I mean, how does it feel to be in love? How do you even know if you are?
Yes.
—P
It feels like someone just punched me hard in the middle of my chest and knocked the wind out of me. I can’t breathe. My heart skips a beat and then starts racing much too fast. I feel the blood draining out of my face. A cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck, and my hands begin to shake.No no no.
I knew he was going to be here. I knew it, but I had successfully suppressed the knowledge. Now I realize there’s a big difference between knowing something and actually being confronted with it.
It was over, everything with him and me. I ended it. Because anything else would have been too much.
I left it all behind me. I lefthimbehind because I had to. I didn’t have any other choice. I didn’t see him again after that night. Irefused to allow myself to think about him because it hurt. I shut him out.
But now it’s all coming back. The notes, the secrets, the way one short glance from him could make me feel. Everything inside of me tells me to turn away, lower my head, and pray he didn’t notice me. But I can’t. I can’t look away, and at this moment, I can see nothing but him. At the same time, my brain is unable to comprehend him in his entirety.
I blink.
Moss-green eyes under thick brows. Black eyelashes that are much too long.
