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“Oh, come on, what are you worried about?” Katie says. “I’m the one who does everything well but not perfectly.” She sighs theatrically, but it doesn’t completely neutralize the worry in her voice.

“I’m worried because there will be only one female lead role regardless, and we know who’s going to get it. Right, Lia?” Susannah glances at me, a half smile on her face that seems a bit forced. She wants the lead just as much as I do. So does everyone else. But she’s right, there’s only one lead. That doesn’t mean I’m going to get it though.

Until the weekend, I was sure I would. I was overconfident because my practice went so well and because I’ve gotten even better recently. But today, there’s not even a spark of my optimism left.

I smile back at Susannah, a smile that is just as forced as her own. “That’s not true.”

“Oh, come on, Lia. The chances of you not getting the lead are slim to none. Who else would Pearson cast?” The bitter undertone in Susannah’s voice hits me straight in the heart.

She doesn’t mean any harm, I know that. She’s just worried, like the rest of us.

I really wish I were as confident as Susannah is that I’ll get the lead. But I’m not. Today, I’m not sure about anything.

“See, you’re not even arguing.” She rolls her eyes, and I helplessly dig my nails into my palms.

“What am I supposed to say? Pearson could give any of us the part. We’re all good, otherwise we wouldn’t be here. And after all, he likes you best.” I sound too annoyed.

“So what? That doesn’t mean anything. He’s not going to decide based on who he likes.”

“Hey,” Katie interjects before I can answer, looking at us both warningly. “Stop it. We can’t influence what’s going to happen or who gets which role anyway. Pearson knows what he’s doing.”

Hopefully.

Susannah is silent, and I don’t say another word either. We reach the theater and find seats in the front row. They’re exactly the same seats we were in two weeks ago. But when I glance to the right this time, where the teaching staff is sitting, I spot Phoenix among them. My body reacts to his presence with a warning tingle. It’s so silly that I react to him in any way at all, because whatever was between us is over.

It didn’t even really start.

But I can’t do anything about the warmth spreading through me. Just like I can’t help staring at him. Scanning his face, noticing his grim expression, and the frustration in his eyes, which are lined by dark shadows. He looks exhausted, more than just tired. There’s a hard line around his mouth that is new and yet strangely familiar.

I don’t know if he senses me looking at him, but he turns his head in my direction. Just for a second, but it’s enough to throw me off balance. Heat rushes to my cheeks, and my pulse quickens. This isn’t fair. My stomach flutters. I want to look at him, I want to ask him a thousand questions, and I want him to do the same. I want to go back to that one night when we told each other too much but not enough. His eyes darken—I can see it even though we’re sitting a few yards apart. It’s crazy.

My breath catches. How can a single glance from him be enough to make me feel so much? How? We look at each other for a few seconds that feel endless. There’s something in his eyes that I can’t read.

Talk to me. Tell me your secrets. Tell me everything, because I want to know everything about you.

His jaw muscles twitch. Maybe he read my mind, but then he turns away. It feels alarming, but there’s no time to dwell on it. Mr. Pearson comes on stage, and all at once there’s silence. All I can hear is my own heartbeat, much too loud in my ears, much too fast.

He stops at the edge of the stage, a smile on his face, his hands loosely in his pockets. “Hello, everyone. It’s great to see you all here,” he greets us, just as he does every year. “Some of you are very excited today, and others are very curious. To all those who have joined our wonderful school this semester, I would like to briefly explain why we’re gathered here today. Many of you may already know that every winter, our graduating students are given the opportunity to dance on this stage and shine.” His smile widens, and he pauses, but we want him to just say it now. We want to know which ballet we’ll be performing, and who gets which role.

In the past, I’d always enjoyed Pearson’s speech. It was nice that he talked not only about the graduating class but also about everyone else who contributes to the show. All the students who help with the set design or costumes and a few juniors who are allowed to join the performance as dancers, because our classes are small. Sometimes, twenty students aren’t enough to fill the roles in a full production. I liked the way he talked about us all being a team, a family. That we belong together.

Today, I just wish he would finally get to the point. I feel nauseous and a little dizzy. My body can’t cope with the excitement, with the damn uncertainty about whether everything I’ve given has been enough. Pearson’s words blur into an indistinct rush of noise. I try to force myself to listen to him, but my brain won’t cooperate. I space out and breathe too fast.

Just say it. Please just say it and put us out of our misery.

But he doesn’t say it, not yet. He keeps talking, maybe unaware of the unease that’s spreading through the room with every passing moment. Next to me, Katie shifts nervously in her seat.

“All right,” he finally says. “I think I’ve kept you in suspense long enough. I know you’re all eager to find out which ballet we’ve chosen for this year and how the roles will be distributed.” The corners of his mouth rise as a sigh of relief ripples through the rows. “This year, we’ve chosen Swan Lake.”

Silence. Then enthusiastic laughter and whispered words ripple through the hall. I just sit there motionless, trying to remember how to breathe.

Swan Lake.

The White Swan and the Black Swan.

My lips curl into a smile. A demanding piece, a demanding role. No, two demanding roles, two leads combined into one. Odette and Odile, the White Swan and the Black Swan.

“Mr. Conrad will assign jobs for the freshmen, sophomores, and juniors. All seniors, please come with me.” He beckons us.