I curl them into my stomach and stagger away.
She marches over to the wall and snatches the mallet, hefting it over her shoulder. “Don’t fuckinglieto me, Violet.”
“I don’t remember what happened,” I snap at her, sick of this. “Okay? I don’t know what happened that day.”
She shakes her head and restarts the music. “Dance.”
Reluctantly, I take my place in the center of the room. I begin. It’s not as fresh in my head, even though Shawn showed me the video earlier. Even though muscle memory guided me through it so recently. My mind has warped some of his choreography. Muscle memory can get things wrong, especially since I only learned it once.
She slams the bottom of the mallet into the floor like a metronome. The wood is rough when I rise onto pointe. It grabs at my shoes, slows down my spins.
“Stop,” Mia says. “There. Your hip.”
She comes forward, and I repeat the move. She puts her hand on my thigh, adjusting it. I ignore the way my skin crawls, her palm on my bare leg.
Then she steps back. “Okay, good. Again.”
On and on. She dissects every little part, until sweat rolls down my back and I’m panting for breath. Hours, it feels like. I don’t know how long we actually go.
Inevitably, I stumble and fall. I hit the floor hard and stay there, trying to catch my breath. Mia has taken a seat on a kitchen chair she dragged in, and she doesn’t try to get me to stand or continue on. Although I fear she will.
“When were you going to tell me you were leaving CPB?”
“I’ve got questions, too, you know.” I twist to sit more comfortably, pulling my leg up to my chest and wrapping my arms around it.
“Ask.” She reaches in her pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. I’ve never known her to smoke, but I don’t say anything as she plucks one out and sticks it between her lips. She lights it, then exhales smoke. “Go on, Violet, ask me.”
“Have you been following me?”
She tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “After you decided to take me up on my offer to see the Vermont doctor, of course I followed you. I had to be sure you weren’t doing more harm than good.”
“And the break-ins?”
“No. Although I do suspect your ex, Jack. He’s an odd duck, is he not? Possessive, angry.” She laughs. “Funny, seeing as how you’re currently dating someone a step above.”
Two people. Her following me. Him trying to actively ruin my life.
“You didn’t have anything to do with those articles?”
“The first one, I did.” She lifts a shoulder. “Your mother called me in a panic at the hospital. It was when you were in surgery. She told me the whole fucking story. And then the senator’s boy just walked? After hurting you—and potentially ending your career? He’s lucky he didn’t do more lasting damage. Heshould’vebeen arrested.”
Mia taps ash from the end of her cigarette, letting it fall to the floor. There were too many loopholes in the case against Greyson. There was time between him leaving the scene—where no one saw him except me and his passenger—and the police showing up at his house.
There was no solid proof that he was drunk driving.
“I meant what I said, though. That you had a community behind you. I hoped they would’ve added more, but… oh, well. Nothing I could do about it without getting my hands dirty.”
“They’re dirty now,” I say.
She frowns. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“Where do we go from here?”
“You tell me what you learned that would make you want to leave CPB. Leaveme. And then we’ll discuss what our options are.” She leans forward, staring down at me. “Think about it, Violet. Your memory can’t be that hazy. You only lost a day. But you lost the nightI’vemost wanted to forget.”
“I think you already know.” I raise my eyebrow. “I think you know a lot more than you’re saying. I’ve tried to remember, but it’s gone. So please, tell me.”
Suddenly Mia is in front of me, brushing my hair away from my forehead. I don’t move, can’t even breathe, as her fingertips probe my scar.