“No, not at all.” I shake my head decisively and let go of the barre for a moment. “If you read too much of that stuff, you might as well go straight to therapy.”
“You have a point there. I haven’t read many, but I can imagine how much crap is being written.”
“You get used to it eventually.” Unfortunately.
“So you’re not worried about it? Sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy, but you really look like you’re not doing well, and I’m a little worried about you.”
“That’s sweet of you, but I’m fine. Really,” I add with more emphasis than I feel.
She doesn’t seem convinced, probably because I’m not either. But how can I explain to her what’s going on when I don’t understand it myself?
“I just slept badly.”
An understanding smile crosses her face. I’m not sure if shebuys my excuse, but at least she lets it go. “I understand. I think it was a full moon last night,” she says, as if that explains everything. “I didn’t sleep very well either.”
“Yeah, it was probably the moon.”
Zoe still looks worried as we continue with our warm-up exercises, but she doesn’t say anything else, and I’m grateful for the silence and the fact that Mae is on the other side of the room talking to Kelly about something. She wouldn’t have let it go as easily as Zoe did.
My head feels like it’s wrapped in cotton as I stretch, forcing my muscles to work. Unfortunately, my body isn’t really cooperating. I’m stiff, and I hope it’s just because I’m overtired and have been pushing myself too hard over the last few weeks. I should take a break, I know. But I don’t have time for breaks, I still need to improve.
But why do you need to improve?
The voice in my head is quiet but very familiar. It sounds like my mom.Why are you doing this, Rayne? Why do you always feel like you have to be better?
Blinking, I shake my head, trying to block out the voice, but I can’t. It’s there, and it won’t go away.
Why are you torturing yourself so much?
I close my eyes, suddenly wanting to cry. I realize I don’t know the answer myself. Not really, anyway. Maybe I just can’t admit the truth to myself. Like I said, today is not a good day.
“Good morning.” Mr.Conrad’s voice makes me look up. In his usual good mood, he enters the hall and directs us to our seats while Easton, who enters the room behind him, sits down at thepiano. He smiles at me, and I feel an urge to smile too, but it isn’t genuine and he can tell.
His eyes flicker, his mouth silently forming the same question Zoe asked me earlier.Are you okay?
I want to nod, but I can’t, and suddenly Mom’s voice is in my head again. I realize that there are always going to be days like this. Bad days when I miss her and Dad a little more than usual. Days when I’m exhausted and a little lost.
I think that’s okay. I don’t like it, but it’s okay. I know the pain will never go away. I have to learn to live with it, and some days are a little easier than others. Today just isn’t one of those days.
***
“Hey, Birdy.” Easton comes up to me after class and pulls me close, even though neither of us really has time before we have to get to our next classes. I let myself lean on his chest anyway and immediately feel a little better as I smell his familiar scent.
“What’s wrong?” he asks gently as I bury my face in his chest.
I shrug without saying a word. He strokes my back with one hand and gently lifts my chin with the other, looking searchingly at me.
“Hm?”
“I just want to sleep,” I murmur. That’s at least half of the truth.
He studies me intently, looking directly into my eyes, and I think he really understands what’s going on inside me.
“Is there anything I can do?” His thumb strokes the corner of my mouth, and I almost smile.
“No. Tomorrow everything will be better.”
“I’m sure,” he says, sounding so convinced that I almost believe him.
