It took me another thirty minutes before I found a plaque on the wall that readThomas Marsden, Dean of Admissions.
Professor DuPont was seated with his back to me across from a large man in his fifties. The man clenched and unclenched his hands on top of the desk as he listened to what Professor DuPont was saying. I leaned closer, but I couldn’t hear a word.
“Can I help you?” A voice behind me made me flinch, and I spun around. A woman wearing a cardigan and reading glasses stood before me clutching a cup of coffee.
“Uh—yes, actually, no. I have a meeting with Mr. Marsden at three o’clock, and I was a little early.” I held my breath, praying the lie would sit well.
She glanced at her watch and frowned. “You’requiteearly.”
“I’m always early. They say fifteen minutes early is on time.” I gave her my best smile as I cringed inside.
She sighed. “There’s a chair down the hall, if you’d like to have a seat.”
“Thank you, good idea,” I said. “I’ll go over there in a minute.”
She gave me one last side-eye and continued down the hall.
When I turned back, Professor DuPont was handing Marsden a check, they were shaking hands, and that was when I noticed the man’s finger. On it, a Greystone ring. Matthew was working directly with the dean to let anyone through that Greystone wanted. He didn’t even need me to help Calum. He must have done it just to have dirt on me, and I’d played right into his hands.
My chest burned as I ran away from the office and down the hall. I heard the door swing open. “Excuse me.” But I didn’t slow down. I sprinted down the hall toward the exit and shoved open the doors.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Naomi
January 2023, four months before her death
It’s the day of theBAC show, fifteen minutes before showtime, and thirty of us are packed into the dressing room. Zee won’t stop talking about the lighting and last-minute changes to the choreography, as everyone jockeys for mirror space.
“You nervous?” my friend Chichi asks as she applies a plum lipstick.
“Yeah.” My nerves are firing like crazy, but it’s not because of the show. We’ve rehearsed for months, and I could do the choreo in my sleep.
Something else is on my mind. My meeting with DuPont and his strange suggestion:Why don’t you ask your sister? After all, she was theretoo.
My sister couldn’t have had anything to do with Lila’s death. I’ll just talk to her tonight, in person, and she’ll clear everything up. I couldn’t call because Amy has grown convinced our emails are being watched and they’ve found a way to listen in on our phone calls. She says it happens to journalists all the time.
“House lights are out! Show’s starting!” someone yells.
I join the prayer circle for Zee’s pump-up speech.
“We have been preparing for this since September, y’all. We got this. Let’s go out there and dance full out, leave it all onstage. For a lot of us, this is one of our last shows. Do you hear them?” We listen to the rumble of the audience. “We seniors might not perform again after tonight. So please, remember your choreo, hit your marks, don’tbe nervous. We got this.” She cups a hand to her mouth. “B-A-C, B-A-C WHAT?”
“No one does hip-hop better than us!”Cheers all around me. I try to smile, but my thoughts are still on my sister.Focus, Naomi. Focus.
I draw in a slow, steady breath and head backstage.
—
I wait inthe wings until the lights come up and the music starts. Zee starts center stage with a quick solo. Then other dancers join her.
When it’s my cue, I lift my chin and march out confidently, smiling at the audience. We have a lot of friends here tonight, and the crowd is overwhelming. I hear my name and look down, hoping to see Liam, even though I haven’t spoken to him in weeks—he’d disappeared again, but he promised to be here, and so I thought it would be him.
But it’s Ben, who sits next to several of his teammates in the front row, cheering for me, since I don’t think he knows anyone else in the dance group. Ben, who I’d thought hated me at this point. We hadn’t spoken since that day I ran into him on Nassau Street when he’d told me I was making a mistake. It’s sweet to see him here.
The beat drops, and we find our places in our pyramid formation. I start in the back. We move in unison. Shoulders side to side, twisting our torsos. Winding our hips, chests thrusting up and down like they’re separate from our bodies. We reach my favorite part, where we tilt our heads forward and whip our hair right, left. The lights dip to black. This is my cue to sneak forward, to the front.
Crouching low, the formation parts for me. I make my way to the front in the dark. The blood pumps through my veins. The audience waits, holding their breath. Then with a deafening boom, the stage lights come on: a spotlight right on me as I whip my head back, arching my back as I drop my knees to the floor. Everyone is watching me. I dance full out, heart thudding, pouring everything I have into the movement.
