I nodded. “Me neither.” I took another sip of water as I studied Mom. She had dark circles under her eyes and the spark I used to see when she danced—or even talked about dancing—was gone. “You okay? You know, you can talk to me.”
I winced. Since when did I sound like a school guidance counselor? This was why I stayed away from emotional conversations. I stunk at them.
Mom leaned back and tapped her fingers on the table. Then she leaned in and sighed as she took a sip of her coffee. “How well do you know Ethan Morrison?”
I furrowed my brow. Why was she asking me that? Did she know something? “He dances with Bianca. I know that.” I tried to calm my pounding heart, hoping she wouldn’t pick up on the fact that he and I kissed hours ago.
And that I may have feelings for him.
I cleared my throat, hoping my mom wouldn’t pick up on my failed attempt at indifference. “Why?”
She studied me and then shook her head. “Never mind. He just called me earlier and asked me something…” Her voice trailed off. I raised my eyebrows at her ominous statement.
“What did he ask?” I hated how desperate I sounded. But I needed to know what they’d talked about. Was it me?
Mom blinked a few times as she turned to study me. Then she shook her head. “Nothing. It was…never mind.” She sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Her shoulders slumped.
I decided to let it go. I doubted it was about me. Guys didn’t normally call up random girl’s parents for just a chat. It most likely had to do with the fact that the team was tired of taking lessons. They wanted to get out of them and sent Ethan in as tribute.
“Can I help? I mean, with whatever is stressing you out. I’d like to help.”
Mom tipped her head to study me and then sighed. “It’s just, things are bad. Funding is drying up and I don’t know where I’m going to get more.” She cleared her throat and I could see tears brimming her lids. “If this thing with Juilliard is a bust, I think I’ll have to shut the doors.”
I stared at her with my lips parted. I wanted to protest. I wanted to tell her not to worry. But what do I know? I didn’t know the first thing about running a ballet academy.
“Mom, seriously?” I leaned in, hoping I’d misheard her.
“I thought maybe opening our school to outside classes might help. Specialized classes like what we’re doing for the Oakwood football team, but…I don’t think anyone is happy with the way that’s going.” Mom pinched her lips together. “I just don’t know what else to do. Juilliard calling me was the sort of Hail Mary I was hoping for. But if they don’t pick someone from our school, it’s the end.” She tipped her head up and closed her eyes as she blew her breath out. “We’ll be done. Finished. Closed.”
My chest felt as if there was a vise squeezing it to the point of bursting. Sure, I didn’t take dance classes, but that didn’t mean that I wanted the place to close. The school was my home and so many girls depended on it staying open.
I reached out and rested my hand on her clasped ones. She glanced up at me with a pseudo smile. She was hurting. I could see it. Feel it.
“It will work out, Mom,” I said as I held her gaze.
She freed one of her hands so she could pat my hand. “Thanks, Collette. You always know how to make me feel better.
I smiled, hoping she’d feel my confidence. That I could somehow make up for her lack of confidence. She was an amazing teacher and an incredible dancer. Anyone who worked with her would succeed. That was a fact.
“You know what you’re doing, Mom. You can do this.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. “Thanks, Collette.” She smiled, this time a genuine one. “I’m not sure what I’d do without you. Since your father left, I’ve always worried I was failing you.” She reached out and rested her hand on my cheek. “But you’re a fighter and I love that about you.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said. My voice had turned husky as emotions choked my throat. If she only knew what I had been planning, she wouldn’t say what she just did.
If she only knew that I had been contemplating signing up for the Juilliard audition against her wishes, she’d take her words back.
I wasn’t a great daughter. I was selfish. Mom didn’t set the standards for a ballerina and she just wanted me to be realistic. My auditioning wouldn’t change anything, andmy almost-certain failure wasn’t going to help anyone.
And yet, here I sat, thinking I knew better. And I didn’t.
If I loved my mom then I wouldn’t ask her to sacrifice her dream of running the academy just to play to my delusion that Imightbe able to get into Juilliard. If I loved my mom, I would step back. I would let the Juilliard recruits only see our best chance—someone like Bianca or Eve. To win a coveted spot on the Juilliard stage and finally put Academie de Ballet back on the map where it belonged.
If I cared about my mom, I would be a better daughter because in the end, the only thing that matters is the relationships you have. And if I lose my mother, I had nothing.
And that was the last thing I wanted.
Dancing wouldn’t make me happy if it made my mom miserable, and from the way she was hunched over the table with stress etched on her face, she would be heartbroken to lose the studio.
