Though it wasn’t something I really wanted, I needed to see for the hell of it if I had what it took to be accepted into a prestigious ballet academy, even after what had happened to me.
I was a mess.
I always would be.
But I chose to crawl through the rubble…for her.
Two Weeks Ago
The room had buzzed with hopeful, stuck-up ballerinas as I made my way through the glitzy crowd. Pretentious giggles bounced off each wall in high octaves, jarring me. Gossip was falling like whispers of literal shit from beneath breaths, as snarky glances met my every side. I continued to weave myself around stretched limbs and lithe legs before reaching a corner in the back of the room with a sigh.
I couldn’t fathom whymy mother did this shit. It was toxic, damaging, straight-up fucking nasty.
Throwing my bag down on the old, torn, stained carpet with a thump, I drop to the ground beside it when I feel myphone buzz from the front pocket of my bright red oversized hoodie I’m wearing as a dress.
I’m so completely out of place here. My cherry red hair is waved loosely down the length of my back, while everyone else’s is gelled into headache inducing buns. My face is touched lightly by a speck of bronzer, blush, and mascara, leaving my freckles on full display, while every other girl in the room hides behind a mask of thick stage makeup.
Snatching up my phone and pulling it out of my pocket, a photo of me and Keats blinks across the screen. A small smile tips my lips as I swipe to answer and push it to my ear. I hold it in place with my shoulder as I rummage through my black cotton tote bag.
I haven’t seen Keaton since he picked me up on the side of the road and drove me out to LA. Only spoke to him a handful of times too. I hear from him when I’m meant to and, to be honest, knowing he’s not constantly at my ass means Caleb kept my secret, the very one I know is probably burning through him from the inside out.
It was unfair of me to ask that of him.
Yet he fucking begged for it, and I warned him that he didn’t want to know. It was a truth no one would be prepared for.
“I’ve missed you,” I whisper down the line. I could really go for one of his hugs, one that feels a little like our father’s and a speckle of our mother’s.
He chuckles that same quiet laugh that reminds me of home every time. “I’m gonna get out there soon, okay.”
I sigh, snatching up my Tylenol. “Please.”
His words are breathy, and I can hear him blow out a cloud of what I’m guessing is nicotine. I could really go for a cigarette too.
“I promise,” he rasps.
Just those two words send a shiver across the back of my neck, and I try to blink through the chill that accompanies it, the prickle of hope.
“Still don’t need to kill Caleb?” he asks, and I laugh, popping four pills.
I slap my hand against my mouth, and then snatch up my water, swallowing all four quickly. “Seriously, Keats? I thought you trusted him.” I cough when the pills get stuck in my throat, taking another mouthful of water.
He sniffs. “I do. Wait…” He pauses for a breath then continues. “Where are you? What’s all that noise?” he asks curiously.
I extend my hand outward, clasping the cherry red pointe shoes inside my bag. The lick of tears is overwhelming when it caresses the back of my corneas. “Well…” I hold on to the ripped shoes tightly, pushing them into my stomach when I feel it clench with burgeoning nerves and a sharp cut of adrenaline. My trembling fingers glide across the beat-up soles, and I close my eyes.
“Hey, you there?” Keaton’s voice is a little louder, more present, focused.
My eyes snap open, and as I stare atour mother’sshoes in my hands, I reply, “Keats, I’m about to dance.” My voice is so quiet, my bottom lip moving with a slight quiver.
I listen to him inhale. It’s deep, then when he exhales, he snorts his emotions back. If I was there, I can imagine his head reclined backward as he stares at the sky. I think he might be proud of me.
I hope he is.
I hopesheis.
“You know how proud she would be, right?” His voice is only a whisper as it cracks in the middle. Goosebumps are hardpebbles over my legs. I don’t try to control them or shove them away. I let myself fully feel them.
“Yeah?” I ask, even though I don’t need the confirmation. I can feel hereverywhere.
