When I was accepted to the New England School of Ballet, I got a package that contained a gray sweatshirt with the school’s coat of arms and the gray ring binder. In the binder was all the information I needed to get settled: my schedule; my program for the first week, including appointments with a physical therapist and a nutritionist; a map of the campus; and a list of all the rules, especially about drugs and alcohol. There was a short section about dress code and a much longer one about eating disorders.
The whole first day is planned out in detail. Between ten and three, new students can register, pick up their keys, and move into their rooms. At four, the principal will hold a welcome speech in the theater, and then there’s a community dinner for everyone to get to know one another.
“Zoe, we’ll wait outside for you. Is that okay?” Dad’s voice shakes me out of my reverie, startling me. He, Mom, and Caleb stop in front of the administration building as I start to climb the stone steps.
“Sure. See you in a minute.” I don’t wait for them to answer; I just go up the steps and slip into the entryway.
Inside, it’s surprisingly cool and quiet. All I can hear in the huge room with the high ceiling is the quiet murmuring of voices. I walk straight toward a reception desk. In front of the giant windows, through which I can see the back of the theater building, there’s a cozy lounge area with two sofas, round tables, and a few armchairs. Warm sunlight casts shadows on the dark parquet floor and the high walls and on paintings of dancers in various poses.
Boys and girls are standing in separate groups, some with their parents and others without. Most of them look to be around my age. A few of them are glued to their phones, and others are talking to each other.
I get in line for the reception desk behind two girls, and ten minutes later I leave the building with my key.
“Did everything work?” Mom asks, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand as I walk up to her.
“We have to go over there.” I point to the dormitory before I fall in next to Caleb, who’s busy with his phone, as usual.
I wait until Mom and Dad are a few steps ahead before I point at his phone with a meaningful grin. “You know, somehow I don’t think you came along just to embarrass me. You’re trying to distract yourself. Whose message are you waiting for so eagerly?”
Caleb’s face turns red, and it’s almost cute how he squirms with embarrassment. “Parker’s.”
“You’re not serious!” I cry enthusiastically. “When did you two start texting?”
“A few weeks ago.” His blush deepens.
“And you’re only telling me this now?” I glare at him in mock indignation.
“There’s nothing to tell. We text each other, that’s it.”
“But you’ve had a crush on him for months! The fact that you’re texting now is really a big deal.”
“I know, but—” he breaks off, and his expression turns uncertain. An insecurity that somehow doesn’t fit with his personality.
My brother is the most self-confident person I know. He’s over a foot taller than me and has the stature of a quarterback, because he is one. He plays on the Harvard football team, where he’s a sophomore, and has big plans. He graduated from high school with honors, and after he finishes college he wants to go to Harvard Business School, get his master’s degree, and then join my mother at her cosmetics company. He’s an impressive guy, and he knows it. Except when it comes to Parker. Then he loses his self-assurance. And every time I see that insecure flicker in his eyes, my heart bleeds for him.
“What are you scared of?” I ask, poking him gently.
“That he doesn’t like me?”
“That sounds like a question.”
“Zoe—”
“He likes you,” I say, interrupting him. “Definitely. It’s impossible not to like you.”
“No, it’s not,” Caleb murmurs and nervously runs both hands through his dark hair.
“But he does,” I say, glaring at him again. Caleb makes a face at me, but he still doesn’t look very convinced. I’m going to have to work on him.
“Hmm,” he says.
“Trust me about this!”
“I trust you. But I don’t trust myself.”
“Then it’s time to change that.”
“Yeah, I get it. But today is about you, so let’s focus on that, okay?”
