All the same, I was grateful.
“Good,” Felix said with a decisive nod. “See you next class?”
“Not if I see you first,” I said channeling my dad so automatically that I didn’t realize what I was saying until the words were out.
Felix raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching.
Not if I see you first. He must’ve thought I was ridiculous.
“I’ll just… go, before I say anything else,” I said. “At all.”
Felix’s lips curved another few degrees before he looked down at Benji. “You, I will definitely see next class. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Benji nodded solemnly. “Yes, Mr. Bennet. I promise.”
He tugged on my hand to pull me out of the studio, down the stairs, and into the street.
Every third word I heard on the way home wasFelix.
7
FELIX
Shoulders squared.Chest out. Tuck in your ass, you’re not a rentboy.
Piotr’s voice was so clear in my head as I watched myself move in the mirror, testing my ideas for the competition choreography. I didn’t need him to be in the room anymore to correct me. Just as well, because he would have been barking something new at me with every step.
It looked wrong. I’d hadsix-year-oldsgoing through sequences like this yesterday, and they’d looked better doing it than I did. Every time I went to put weight on my right leg, I faltered, I flinched, because I knew it’d hurt.
Pain is good. Pain means you’re working hard enough.
I didn’t need Piotr in the room because I could see him in the mirror, one hand on my shoulder, his hard eyes boring into mine.
Not. Good. Enough.
Again.
Again. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes this time, wanting to feel the movement instead of see it. If I couldn’tseethe hesitation, the faltering, or worse, the stumbling, then maybe they’d be a little less real to me.
Lighter, faster. Feet, Felix, your feet!
Again. Again. Again.
With my eyes closed, I could feel the sunlight streaming through the window on my face, hear my own breathing. Piotr’s voice was still there, but his gaze was gone. The mirror couldn’t show me the stiffness, the awkwardness. It still hurt every time I put my weight on my leg—it probably always would—but at least I couldn’t see it on my face, in my body.
Stop scrunching your nose. Effortless, Felix! Effortless.
Effortless.
It had been effortless once. Once, I could have done this for hours without stopping. Hours of practice every day and a performance most nights—sometimes two, for a popular production—for weeks and weeks at a time.
Now, I was biting my lip as I forced myself through each step. It’d only been half an hour, andeverythinghurt. The pain had travelled from my leg all the way up my body to my neck, shooting to the base of my skull as though I’d been stabbed there every time my heel struck the ground.
It’d always hurt, but it hadn’t hurt likethis.
A sound behind me made me open my eyes mid-turn, breaking thefirstrule I’d been taught back when I was five years old and starting my first ballet class. When you turn, you pick a spot to focus on and you don’t let your eyes focus again untilyou’re facing that spot. Otherwise, you’ll get dizzy and lose your balance.
I just had time to register the shape of a person stepping into the room when I lost mine, stumbling, putting my right foot down hard and wrong, and crying out in pain. After that I was in freefall, stomach swooping as I lost any chance I might’ve had to save myself. I was going to hit the polished wood floor, and it was going tohurt. Amelia was going to hear the thump. She’d know. She’d know I couldn’t do this, that she was hanging all her hopes on me and I was going to let her down because I was too broken, and?—
