You have no idea.
eastcoleman:
Don’t feel bad, Birdy. It’s your life, and it’s up to you to decide. If you don’t want to dance, that’s okay. If you do want to at some point, you’ll do it then. Even though I would be happy if you moved to Boston.
mockingbird:
Why are you so smart?
eastcoleman:
I’m not. I’m just good at giving advice that I probably wouldn’t be able to follow myself.
mockingbird:
I like your advice.
eastcoleman:
I’m glad. I just feel like I didn’t really help you.
mockingbird:
Yes, you did. You listened to me, that’s enough.
Chapter 7
Rayne
Face the Music—Louis Tomlinson
My first day at the New England School of Ballet begins with Louis Tomlinson’s latest album and a firm knock on the door of my room.
“Just a minute!” I shout as I try to pin my hair into a tidy bun. I didn’t think it would be possible to forget how to put my hair up properly, but apparently it is. This is my fourth attempt, and there are still loose strands hanging out in every direction. With a frustrated sigh I throw the brush in the sink and go to the door.
Zoe and Mae are standing in the hallway. Both are wearing the gray school sweatshirt, and have their hair tied back neatly. Very neatly. It feels a little unfair.
“Good morning,” Mae says cheerfully. “Are you ready for breakfast?”
I step aside so they can come in. “Not quite. My hair won’t behave.”
“Do you want help?” Zoe offers, and I sigh with relief.
“Please. I’m a bit out of practice. I haven’t danced in months and somehow—” I stop.Shit.I shouldn’t have said that. No one, absolutely no one, makes it into an elite ballet academy after months of not practicing. Especially if they didn’t take the lessons all that seriously even before the time off and only danced halfheartedly. Every break takes its toll, and the longer it lasts, the harder it is to get back into it.
It doesn’t matter that Zoe and Mae and everyone else would have noticed sooner or later that I’m not at their level. How am I supposed to dance when I can’t even manage to tie back my hair properly?
“No big deal.” Zoe smiles gently. “I think all the teachers will understand.”
I just nod. Yes, maybe. Still, I feel uneasy. I’m not very good, and everyone will notice right away. And then they’ll wonder how I got in. They’ll find out who I am, who my parents were, and that I’m only here thanks to my grandmother. Then they’ll hate me because I don’t deserve to be here.
“Rayne.” Zoe puts a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. You can do this, okay?”
“Exactly. We’re going to help you.” Mae is standing in front of the dresser with the record player, holding an LP. “First, let’s help you with your hair. I’ll be right back!” She puts down the record and hurries out of my room, reappearing almost immediately with a brush that has much finer bristles than mine, a whole pile of hairpins, and a can of hairspray. She gives everything to Zoe. “You do it, Little Miss Perfect. You can definitely do it better than I can.”
Zoe wrinkles her delicate nose. “You’re exaggerating.”
“I always do,” Mae says.
