Jess snorts and refills my cup. “Off to a good start.”
“You’ve been noticeably absent,” another girl calls.
I turn my attention to the group. The one who spoke is a sophomore on the dance team. I think her name is Michelle?
I shift, suddenly uncomfortable with the spotlight.
I shouldn’t be. I grew up in the spotlight. I was cultivated in the spotlight. But somehow, sparring with Greyson has worn away the edges. I’ve come to learn that it hurts when I’m put to the test and don’t pass.
Is that what happened? I didn’t pass his test?
My cheeks burn.
Willow grips my free hand. “She’s been letting Paris cool off. You know how she gets.”
More girls nod, and I relax. We find seats, and the discussion moves from me to Paris. I’m not the only one who’s felt her wrath over the years, I guess. Then from Paris to Greyson—and the whole hockey team. They’re on a winning streak, demolishing the competition at an away game last weekend.
I smile and drink and nod my way through the evening.
I’m as plastic as my cup—and I hate that I feel like this. The more drunk I get, the more I settle into the floor. I go from sitting next to Willow to leaning on her, to resting my head on her shoulder.
When the pizza comes, I pick at a single piece and blame my churning stomach on the alcohol. I don’t want to know how many calories I’m drinking, how much sugar… the hangover will be my punishment.
Tonight I just need to let go.
Before I know it, the pizza is gone and someone puts on music.
I hop to my feet, suddenly invigorated. I haul Willow up with me.
“Dance party!” I yell.
They’re with me. The music cranks louder, and I sink into the rhythm. It took too fucking long to learn how to move the way real people do—not just ballerinas. I was flexible, but I didn’t know how to use my body.
That’s why I joined the dance team.
That, and the Crown Point Ballet has a distinct contemporary flavor. If I wanted to succeed, then I had to incorporate some new theories into my study—a common Mia phrase. She wants the best, but she wantsnew. Eccentric. Beauty that comes in odd shapes.
She has the best choreography because of it.
I twist and whirl, and the drinks did their job—I can’t feel the pain in my leg at all. I grab Jess’s hand and spin her, pulling her back toward me. I tip my head back and relish moving my body again, until the walls blur and I lose track of myself.
The longer I dance, the more I convince myself that I needed this. I needed to forget for a while. And that’s exactly what I’m doing.
Forgetting.
21
VIOLET
Idon’t know what wakes me up. A noise? A sensation?
My eyes open in the darkness, and I blink a few times to try and see more clearly. All around me are the faint snores of the other girls. A sliver of moonlight streams in around the edges of the blinds.
I open my mouth, then realize there’s something covering my lips.
What the fuck?
I touch the slightly bumpy texture of tape over my mouth, and then the shadow descends. My hands are yanked over my head and connected to something. There’s a softclick, and cold metal closes around my wrists.