Jase makes a face, and I can tell he’s thinking about his scholarship. “I have to do that too. I’ll ask Skye if she took notes. She probably didn’t.”
“You’re good friends with her, right?” The question jumps out of me before I can stop it.
Congratulations, Zoe. It’s exactly the right moment for this.But maybe it is. I never asked him about Skye before. But all at once,I remember Jase and Skye arriving late to Pearson’s talk on my first day and how he put an arm around her shoulders. The image annoys me. Damn, why am I even thinking about this?
Because maybe Mae is right.
Jase raises his eyebrows, as if this is the last question he could imagine me asking, and I wish I could take it back.
“Right,” he says honestly, seeming a little surprised, as though it just became clear to him why I asked. Then he answers the question that I don’t dare to ask. “Skye likes to act like she’s my big sister and I’m the little brother she has to take care of. Sometimes she’s really annoying.” A mischievous grin crosses his face. “The way siblings are, I guess.” His smile slips, and I quickly change the subject because I don’t want to talk about Caleb, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to talk about Lia either. He’s never talked to me about her.
“You didn’t come to talk about the notes from the class we missed, did you?”
He shakes his head, and the gleam in his eyes is back. “Do you want to do something forbidden?”
“How forbidden?”
“Just a little.” He reaches out a hand, and I give him mine without hesitation. At this moment, something becomes clear to me. Until yesterday, Jase had no idea what had happened to me. But from the beginning, from my first day at this school, he was the one who held out his hand to me. Waited for me. He was always waiting for me. In the ballet studio and outside of it.
His hand was always the question, and mine was the answer. Our fingers twine together as though they’ve never done anything else, and we leave my room. We walk across campus in the twilight, shuffling through the red and yellow leaves.
Jase leads me around the theater to the emergency exit, and after a cautious glance over his shoulder, he opens the door. We slip inside. He seems to have a plan, and I follow him although I have no idea what it is. Voices echo through the auditorium, and then the music begins. I recognize the piece immediately and stop dead.
“Jase,” I whisper. “They’re rehearsingThe Sleeping Beauty.”
He grins at me. “Exactly.”
“We shouldn’t be here.”
Rehearsals for the senior ballet are off limits to underclassmen. Although Pearson wants us all to be part of it, only the seniors and a few juniors who were needed to fill out the cast are allowed to be at the rehearsals.
“I know. But if you don’t come with me now, we’ll get caught, and then it will all have been for nothing,” Jase says. But he doesn’t sound worried at all.
I hesitate for just a moment before following him. We slip out of the backstage area into the foyer and then into the upper balconies. From here, we won’t be seen from below if we’re careful.
My heart hammers as Jase bends down and pulls me into the front row. He gives me a warning look but can’t hold back a smile. We sink into the soft cushions. It’s dark up here, but we can still see everything. Emily is standing in the middle of the stage with Mr.Conrad. He’s explaining something to her that we can’t hear. Other dancers stand and sit at the edge of the stage, watching them and whispering to each other.
I lean forward, resting my forearms on the railing, and just watch. There’s something magical about rehearsals, and not only when you’re the one dancing.
Of course, they can’t be compared to performances. At the premiere, everything is flawless. The costumes, makeup, hairstyles. Every step, every movement. Every smile. But you’re also nervous. You’re afraid of failing, even more than usual. Because everything has to be perfect. For the audience and for everyone who has put so much work into the production.
But the moment when you move from the practice studio to the stage for the first time, putting the steps you’ve learned over weeks of hard work into context, it’s a totally different feeling. Everything is a little easier, with less pressure. The pain that accompanies us every day as we push our bodies to their limits fades into the background. It’s pure adrenaline and euphoria. It’s the last moment before everyone sees it. It’s the one time you’re dancing for your own pleasure.
Everything feels more real, but at the same time, it’s like a dream. The space is bigger, it smells different than the practice studios, and the sound is better, deeper. The texture of the stage floor is different. Even the air feels changed.
On stage, and backstage, everything feels extra special. It feels like you’re getting closer to your big dream. Everyone is more excited and calmer at the same time, out of respect for the stage, the audience, and the dream.
Emily nods, and Mr.Conrad steps aside, leaving the stage for her alone. He gives someone a sign, and the music rings through the theater.
My feet twitch of their own accord. I know the steps, and I want to be down there in Emily’s place. I want to dance the part of Aurora, because it was alwaysmyrole.
I only realize I’m on my feet when Jase steps behind me andputs an arm around my waist. His breath caresses the sensitive skin behind my ear, and I get goose bumps.
“In three years, that will be you, Pixie,” he whispers. He makes it sound like an indisputable fact.
I turn my head, just a tiny bit, so his lips meet my skin. “You can’t know that.”
“Yes, I can. You know why? Because I saw you dancing on Saturday night. And I saw you last year before Charlotte stole the part from you. Emily is good. Charlotte is kind of good, when she’s not busy making people cry in bathrooms. But neither of them dances like you do. You’re tougher than they are because you had to fight.”
