Page 21

Because of Ophelia.

I’m met by darkness and silence as the door swings open. I breathe a sigh of relief and instantly feel a little better. The apartment is small, but I have it all to myself. No more dorms, no annoying roommates.

It was supposed to be different. She should be here.

The headache is getting worse, but it still doesn’t drown out the damn voice in my head that keeps whispering things I don’t want to think about. But I can’t ignore it either. So I roll with it.

I don’t bother turning on the light. The door leads directly into the living room. There’s no hallway, and I hardly have any furniture. Just a large sofa in the center of the room, a coffee table, a sideboard with a TV on it, and a low bookshelf in front of the window. That’s it. The kitchen is tiny, just big enough for a small kitchenette and a fridge. There’s no dining table or chairs.

I walk around the sofa on autopilot. I ignore my bedroom, even though a part of me just wants to crawl into bed and forget about the day. But I can’t. The door to the next room creaks softly as I open it.

My heart sinks as I lean against the doorframe. White walls, dark floor. A floor-to-ceiling window. The room is completely empty. Too empty.

Suddenly it’s hard for me to breathe. There’s unbearable pressure on my chest, a weight pressing on my lungs. A sharp pain inside of me cuts like broken glass. I swallow and try to breathe, but it’s no use. It still hurts like hell. It always hurts, even though I can usually manage to ignore the pain, suppress it, live with it.

But there are always the other moments when it catches me by surprise, when it takes my breath away and blurs my vision. When everything is too much because she should be here. I let go of the necklace, and the links of the delicate chain slip through my fingers, one by one. Time slows down, and everything spins. Her, the necklace, the words on the back of the compass: You’re my home.

With a heavy sigh, I sit down on the floor with my knees drawn up and my gaze fixed on the wall opposite me. I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be sitting in here completely alone, but I can’t help it. I look down at the little compass in my hand. There’s a tiny gold star in the center.

Did you get it from your girlfriend?

That’s really none of your business.

Do you regret it?

Yes.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to ignore the voices. Both Lia’s and my own.

“What have I done, Izzie?” I whisper into the empty room. “Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut? Why do I always have to make everything worse?”

The only answer I get is a deafening silence.

Chapter 11

Lia

“There you are!” Susannah says the next morning as I come into the dining room for breakfast and sit down at a table with her and Katie.

“Sorry, I was held up. Mom called,” I lie, putting down my tray of whole-wheat toast, cereal, and yogurt and sinking into one of the green velvet chairs, which look like they belong in a fancy parlor instead of a student cafeteria.

Of course Mom didn’t call me.

For the first time in my life, I overslept. I didn’t hear my alarm because I was too tired after I couldn’t fall asleep last night. Because of him. Of course. Why else? As if I didn’t have enough problems already. Apparently, the universe has decided that I need one more. Couldn’t he have chosen some other ballet school?

I know the answer already, and I also realize how silly it is to even ask that question. After all, he didn’t know that I’d be here. And even if he did, it was just one night. I’m making a much bigger deal out of a few hours than is appropriate. Frustrated, I dig my spoon into my cereal more vigorously than necessary.

“Everything okay?” Susannah regards me skeptically, and I force myself to smile, even though I’m seething inside.

“Sure, everything is fine.”

“Really? You seem kind of . . . pissed off.” She says it like she can’t believe it herself. Probably because I never seem pissed off. I don’t show my feelings. Not the real ones. Not even to my friends.

“Yes, really,” I say, pushing all thoughts of Phoenix aside and changing the subject before she can probe any further. “How was last night?”

“It was really nice.” Katie reaches for her coffee and takes a sip. “It’s a shame you didn’t stay a little longer. It was our last chance for a first night together.”

“I know.” I feel a wave of sadness hit me. She’s right. It’s the last time we’ll start a school year together, and I just left. “I was just too jetlagged.”