Page 15 of With You

“We’ll see,” she says, ending the conversation before walking away.

I grab my things and leave the studio, bumping into Evie and Zena. I forgot they were waiting for me, and the smiles on their faces drop as soon as they see the lack of one on mine.

“I didn’t get it,” I tell them.

Saying the words out loud makes reality finally hit, and I have to fight back the sting in my nose, the burning at the back of my eyes as tears start to spring forward. I’m immediately enveloped in their arms, both of them saying soothing words to me as they hold me tightly. I let myself sink into it for a moment before I pull away.

“She said there’s still a chance if I do a pair piece,” I explain as we start walking back to the dorms. I want to be as far away from these studios as possible.

“Can you do that? I mean, you probably can, but we’ve never seen you dance with anyone.” Evie asks.

“Won’t it be hard to find someone?” Zena adds, the two talking over each other slightly as they rush through processing all the new information I’ve given them. They’re expressing all of my fears out loud, and it’s a testament to how well they know me.

“I’ll have to go through all the male ballerinas to figure out who’s best,” I say, a heavy sigh escaping me.

“What about River?” Zena says, and the suggestion stops me in my tracks.

“That’s a great idea. I’m sure he’ll do it,” Evie continues cheerily, dragging me along so I start walking again.

I cycle through every ballerina in my mind, and not a single one is at the level I need for a partner. Apart from him. As much as I loathe to admit it, River is one of the best dancers I’ve ever seen. He moves more elegantly than the other males in our class, every step calculated and deliberate yet executed with perfect precision and grace.

When we reach the dorms, Zena and Evie head to the common room to meet the others, but I excuse myself to be alone. There’s no time to waste as I consider my options again, writing down every name as soon as I get to my room. I pull out memories of them from classes and performances, singling out their strengths and weaknesses, in an attempt to find the best match. They’re not all bad, but none of them are him.

Twenty minutes later, my desk is littered with crumpled papers and my decision has been made for me. If I want any chance of performing at this showcase, he’s my only option. A groan of frustration escapes me as I drop my head into my hands and wonder how on earth I got to the point where I’ll have to ask River Campbell to dance with me.

Chapter 7

River

I’ve been second-guessing my choice not to audition for the showcase, but seeing dancers panicking outside the studio, I know I made the right decision. I took part in it last year, hoping it would bring back some of the spark I’ve been missing, but even performing the final solo didn’t make a difference.

I walk past them all to the studio I’ve reserved. Even though I’m struggling to find that excitement again, I don’t want to give up. At one point, I loved ballet. I always looked forward to classes, and it was the highlight of my day. I desperately want that feeling back. I’ve tried so many other things throughout my life—painting, fencing, horse riding, all manner of arts and sports—but ballet is the only thing that’s ever made me feel true happiness, like I had control over my life. With everything else, you either have to rely on your teammates or equipment. With ballet, I only have myself.

I don’t like this numbness that seems to be slowly overtaking me. I can’t find it in me to care about anything. Even when I’m with my friends, I struggle to join their conversations or feel the same level of excitement they do about literally anything. I need to figure out how to get out of this rut before everyone grows as tired of me as I am of myself.

I go through my usual routine, connecting my phone to the speaker, and warming up before running through a few variations. It’s mindless, and I know I’m not putting everything I have into it, but I go through the motions anyway. In the pauses between music, the faint sound of auditions taking place filters through the wall. I hope they all get more out of it than I did.

I’m halfway through my favourite variation from Swan Lake when I catch sight of the door creeping open in the corner of my eye. I plant both feet on the ground and step over to tell whoever it is to go away.

“This room is reserved for the next half hour,” I announce.

The person ignores me, pushes the door open all the way, and I can’t hide the surprise on my face.

“I know,” Amelie says, closing the door behind her before she approaches me.

“For solo practice, I should clarify.” It’s snarkier than it needs to be, but I’m already frustrated enough.

“I know,” she repeats.

“For someone who knows so much, you’re acting like you don’t.”

“I…” She curls her fingers into her palm, clenching her fists at her sides. It’s then I look at her properly. Her jaw is clamped tightly, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. There’s something missing from her eyes, the usual fire I see in them dimmed, barely any embers holding on to life, and I swear there’s a glassiness to them.

“Is everything okay?” I take a tentative step closer. Amelie and I don’t have this kind of friendship. Within our group, we only speak to each other to argue. But something’s wrong, and for some odd reason, she’s come to me. “Amelie, whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I didn’t get the solo,” she confesses quietly, averting her gaze as she dips her head.

“That’s bullshit,” it comes out before I can think of anything better to say. If anyone deserved it, it’s her. “Who got it?”