Page 10 of Kissing the Debutant
Alexis wasn’t such a deep sleeper. The moment Jack lifted her into his arms, her eyes fluttered open. She reached a tiny hand up to touch his face. “I love you, Jacky.”
And with those words, the rest of the world couldn’t hurt him, no matter how many prima donna dancers threw insults at him.
He smiled and put her in her bed. “Love you too, Lexi-girl.” He kissed her forehead, and her eyes closed.
Jack left their door open a crack and walked into his own room. After changing into plaid pajama pants, he headed into the kitchen to look for a late dinner. Dishes cluttered the counters, leftover from a hastily abandoned dinner of mac and cheese his mom prepared. She must have gotten the call from the diner while eating.
He didn’t mind cleaning up after his family. Like at the dance studio, cleaning cleared his mind and allowed him to get lost in a mindless task.
He scrubbed each plate clean before setting them on the drying rack. Their dishwasher broke ages ago, and there was no money to fix it.
As he cleaned, he choreographed a dance in his mind. It was in quiet times like these he worked best.
The only sound in the house was the running faucet and the soft clanging of dishes as he set more to dry. By the time he’d finished and wiped down the counters, he’d let the peace calm him and remind him this life was good despite what it lacked. Someone like Lillian Preston would understand his world just as much as he understood hers.
Not at all.
He opened the fridge and stuck his head in, searching for something edible. Pulling out the leftover pasta from a few days before, he heated it up and brought it into the living room where his school bag awaited his attention.
He pulled out his math book to prepare for a coming test, a test he knew he’d do just okay on, never great.
But he was okay being average at most things as long as he never let his family down.
3
Lillian
“Great job as usual, Lillian.” Mrs. Fletcher slid the graded American Literature paper onto her desk. Lillian had put everything she had into the paper on Lorraine Hansberry’s playA Raisin in the Sun.
An A minus. Lillian’s shoulders fell. Her mother would only see the minus. Those few missing points would equal failure in her eyes.
“Thanks, Mrs. Fletcher,” Lillian murmured as she gathered her things and headed for the door. She had a few minutes before her favorite class of the day, History of the Ancient World. A few minutes to either stress over her mother’s reaction to her poor grade or ignore the whole thing by diving into Facebook. Lillian wasn’t much of a Facebook user—it was for old people, but she fished her phone out of her bag and pulled up the competition chat that had hijacked her phone. Lillian liked the girls she’d met at orientation, but she almost regretted agreeing to the private chat.
Rose:Hey Divas, what do you think? I’m thinking of changing my hair to green to keep me pumped for winning all that scholarship money! What are you girls doing to stay motivated?
She was joking, right? Green hair for scholarship money? Lillian laughed at the thought.
Layne:I’m currently trying not to pull all my hair out.
Jenna:Green would be ridiculous and awesome. I don’t need anything to keep me motivated. I’m a Diva, motivation is my natural state.
Lillian wished she could be that confident. She knew she had the talent to win this scholarship, but telling her mother about it was another story.
Lillian:It could be cute, Rose. Daily practice keeps me motivated to win.
Lillian’s words sounded forced, but it was the best she could do. Girl talk wasn’t really her thing.
“Settle down. And phones away, Ms. Preston.” Dr. Randall paced the front of his classroom, waiting for the large crowd to file into the theater-style room.
Lillian slipped her phone back into her bag and readied her desk for taking notes. With images of the Steele of Hammurabi on the big screen, it looked like another day of history, which was Lillian’s favorite. Studying ancient civilizations was the one thing that made her forget about dancing. With graduation lurking around the corner, Lillian found herself thinking about her potential major more and more—ifshe decided to attend a traditional college. If her mother had it her way, secular college wasn’t even on the table. The American Ballet Company was the only future her mother would even discuss.
Lillian enjoyed dancing, and she was good at it, but she didn’t love it the way her mother had when she was a young rising star. She had her mother’s talent but wondered if she had enough heart.
Losing herself in the ancient past, Lillian relished every moment of her last class of the day. The one time it was easy to push ballet from her mind and focus on a subject she was passionate about. That, and in a class of nearly forty students, it was easier to blend into the masses and fly under the radar.
“Wake up, William!” Dr. Randall cracked his hand against his podium, and Will let out a loud snore before he jolted awake beside Lillian.
“I’m sure ancient civilizations aren’t nearly as exciting as hockey practice, but it’s only an hour of your time. Try to pay attention. Your grade could really benefit from it.”
