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Pearson stands opposite the mirror, arms crossed over his chest, a warm smile on his face. I want him to stop. He can’t smile at me like that, not when he’s about to shatter all my dreams. I can’t get a word out, so I just nod at him silently, desperately trying to stop myself from wiping my sweaty palms on my dress.

“How are you?” His question seems sincere, but it feels like a bad joke to me. What does he expect? That I’m fine? Hardly.

“To be honest, I’m pretty nervous,” I admit, because what’s the point of lying? He knows how I feel. He was a dancer himself for long enough. He dreamed the same dream as all of us.

“You probably already know that Susannah will be our Swan Queen,” he says, and I’m almost relieved that he’s not beating around the bush. Still, his words hit me hard. Now I can no longer convince myself that it was just a mistake, a silly oversight. Now I know that Susannah really did get the lead role. The role that should have been mine.

“Yes.” That single word comes out of my mouth as a choked whisper. I can barely hear myself, but I don’t think Pearson was seriously expecting an answer from me anyway.

“I know you expected to get the role, and you will dance it. I want you to be Susannah’s understudy. At the same time, you should also be on stage, of course. So I want you to dance as one of the lead swans and . . .” The rest of what he says doesn’t register with me.

There’s just one terrible word stuck on repeat in my head: Understudy.

“. . . your workload will be heavy since you have to rehearse two roles at the same time, I realize that. But I’m sure you can do it. Do you have any questions?” Pearson raises an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. Did he notice that I wasn’t listening at all? I don’t really care. I want to shake my head and disappear, go hide in my room and lick my wounds.

But then I hear myself speak. “Why?” I ask.

“Why?” he repeats, his forehead creasing in irritation, as if no one had ever questioned his decision before. That’s probably true. We are trained not to question decisions but to accept them. To obey. To do what’s expected of us. But I can’t just accept this one with a smile. I’m hurt and devastated.

“Why her and not me?” I choke out. “Why did you give Susannah the lead when you obviously believe I can do it? When you believe that I can take on two roles at the same time? If that’s true, then why am I not good enough for the lead?” I blurt out without thinking. My head is empty and at the same time much too full.

For a moment Pearson just looks at me, a little surprised. He didn’t expect me to be so direct. How could he? Normally, I would have kept my mouth shut and accepted his decision. Normally, I would have thanked him for the opportunity and promised to do my best.

But not today. I’m still reeling from the fact that I’m not going to stand on that stage.

Instead, Susannah will be the center of attention, talented and radiantly beautiful. Better than me. Although to be honest, I wouldn’t have believed that it was possible.

I get a bitter taste in my mouth as anger wells up inside me. It’s not fair. Nothing about it is fair. What could I have done wrong?

“It doesn’t mean that you aren’t good enough,” Pearson says. His voice is more gentle than I’ve ever heard it. He wants to cheer me up or calm me down, maybe both. He can save himself the trouble.

“What’s this about then?” I raise my chin defiantly. I must be out of my mind; I shouldn’t be behaving this way. Not with my principal. But none of it matters anymore, does it? Three years of work for nothing. It was all for nothing.

It’s an open secret that the dancer who gets the lead role in the Christmas performance will have no trouble finding a job afterward, with the Boston City Ballet or in New York. We all have the same dream and work toward it with all we’ve got. This performance was supposed to be the start of my career, the first step toward finding where I belong. Now I’m just one of many; no one will see me, and I won’t get a chance. If I didn’t make it here, I won’t make it anywhere, and I wish it weren’t as melodramatic as it sounds. Unfortunately, it’s true. I can’t lie to myself about it.

Pearson sighs, leaning against the barre behind him, crossing his ankles. “You’re good, Lia, you know that. You’re one of our best dancers.”

I grit my teeth, because I’m still not good enough, damn it. He knows it and I know it. He should just tell me the truth. But maybe I don’t want to hear the damn truth after all, because I know it will hurt.

“I’ve been with you and the others in your class for three years now. I’ve seen the progress you’ve all made, and I don’t have to tell you that you’ve made the most progress of anyone. You know that.”

Tears well up in my eyes. Now I really don’t want to hear this, because the “but” that’s coming makes it too loud, too heavy, too devastating.

“But even after three years, I feel like you’re not really here. Your technique is undoubtedly among the best I’ve ever seen, but sometimes it seems like you’re holding something back. You’re not dancing with your whole heart, Lia, and that’s what the White Swan needs. The Black Swan too, for that matter. You have to feel the emotions so you can show them to the audience, and I’m afraid you’re not there yet.”

It feels like I’m falling.

You have to feel the emotions.

You’re not dancing with your whole heart.

You’re not there yet.

A hysterical laugh escapes me. This can’t be true. He can’t possibly be serious. And yet he is. I am perfect, but too perfect. I’m not there yet. I don’t feel enough. It’s almost tragic how wrong he is.

“Okay,” I hear myself say, my fingernails digging into my skirt. I wish it were my skin. I wish I could feel something, but there’s nothing. “Thank you for your honesty.”

I nod to him and then turn and leave the studio. I hear his voice and have no idea if he’s saying my name or something else. It doesn’t matter. I have to go right now. I have to get out of here before I lose it. My hands are shaking, my eyes are burning, I want to cry and crawl into my bed. I want to hit someone. Not just anyone. Susannah.