We both turn at the same time. Lia is standing at the other end of the corridor in front of her room door. She’s soaked to the skin, and her hair is plastered to her head and neck.
“Lia, darling, what happened?” Mom gasps, horrified.
A deeply hurt expression briefly crosses Lia’s face, but it disappears again immediately. Instead, she forces a smile. “We had an appointment to plan the party for your birthday, remember? I was at Le Chat Noir waiting for you, but you were obviously busy. The rain surprised me on the way home.”
“Oh, Lia, I completely forgot about that. I’m so sorry.” Mom moves toward Lia, and it’s the perfect opportunity to finally close the door, but something stops me. Probably the final dissolution of our family, which is playing out right before my eyes. “Would you like to freshen up, and then we’ll drive to the restaurant together? I’ll come get you in a few minutes, okay? Jase and I have something to clear up.”
Lia looks at me sharply, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was jealous.
“Go ahead, Mom. I guess we’re done.” I stretch and yawn, feigning boredom.
“We’re not.” She rubs her forehead. She’s probably getting a headache again, like she always does when I do something that freaks her out. “What do I have to do to make you part of this family again?”
“Maybe just accept me for who I am,” I suggest, my voice artificially cheerful.
“Jase—”
Now another voice interrupts her. The last one I wanted to hear. But hey, this whole situation has to get even worse somehow.
I turn and see Zoe. I didn’t notice the door to her room opening, and if I’m unlucky, she’s heard every word. The walls between our rooms are so thin that you can hear almost everything.
“Sorry, I don’t want to interrupt you,” she says, not dignifying my mother with a glance. “We need to go over the choreography again.” She gives me a meaningful look, and it takes me a moment to realize what she’s doing. She’s trying to rescue me. We didn’t have a practice scheduled, not today.
But instead of feeling gratitude like any normal person in this situation would, I start to get angry. Anyone else could have overheard this stupid conversation and I wouldn’t have cared, but not Zoe. She already knows too much. If I’m unlucky and she’s been listening, now she knows even more.
Still, I take her up on it. Anything is better than dealing with Mom and Lia any longer. I turn to Mom. “I have to leave.”
She looks from me to Zoe in amazement. “But we’re not finished yet.”
“Yes, we are. Lia’s waiting for you. Go plan your party. I’ve gotthings to do now.” I turn around, grab my key, which is always on the coat hook, and pull the door shut behind me.
I ignore her as she calls my name, with Lia still standing soaking wet outside her room, staring at me in disbelief as I walk away. Zoe follows me, even when I leave the dorm and head to the practice studios. It’s pouring, and we’re soaked to the skin in seconds. I don’t say a word, and neither does she.
We silently enter the building and walk up the stairs, then cross the hall on the fourth floor to reach another staircase. It’s the one that goes up one more floor to the old studio under the roof that’s too small for group lessons. The floor here is worn wood, not the gray linoleum in the lower studios. The old boards have some creaky spots. The round windows can’t be opened—some kind of security measure to keep people from falling out. In summer, it’s also roasting hot. Now it’s just stuffy, and the smell of sweat hangs in the air.
“Jase, are you all—”
“Don’t ask!” I say, interrupting her harshly. I feel the pressure building up inside. I have to pull myself together. I’m so furious I’m about to explode.
She wants to know if everything is okay, if I’m all right, and of course, after that scene in front of my room, anyone would ask. But it’s not just anyone with me; it’s Zoe. The girl who knows more about me than anyone else does, even Caleb. I didn’t write any notes to him, after all.
Zoe gazes at me silently, and something in the way she looks almost makes me walk away. It’s not pity but something else. I can’t define it, but she looks at me and actuallyseesme, directly into my soul. She’s always done that, and before, it made everything a little easier. Not today.
Her gaze sends a shiver up my spine, and I get goose bumps. Partly because I’m cold in my wet sweatshirt. Without thinking about whether it’s a good idea, I pull it off over my head. When it lands on the floor with a splat, I look up and see suspicion in her eyes.
“What exactly are you planning?”
I roll my eyes as if it’s not perfectly clear. “I’m cold.”
“And it’s warmer without a shirt?” she asks skeptically.
“It is. Which you’d notice if you took off your sweatshirt too. It’s always pretty warm up here. But we can forget any extra practice if you get sick from walking around in wet clothes.” I give her a meaningful look, but she just crosses her arms in front of her chest and narrows her eyes. Then she exhales with a sigh, as if she’s made a decision.
She puts a hand to her shoulder, and it’s only when the strap slides down her arm that I realize she was wearing a backpack. She opens the zipper and pulls out a dry sweatshirt and two towels. She tosses one of them to me. I catch it reflexively. My eyebrows go up. “You’re prepared.”
“Actually, I was just about to go to the gym,” she says, shrugging. She pulls out her hairband and wraps the other towel around her head.
I follow her example, rubbing my hair dry and then the rest of my body as best I can. But my pants are wet and cold, and they’re going to stay that way.
