Page 62 of Wounded Dance
But she’s only gone a moment when the lights blink. God. The class transition. Everyone will come out and see a handcuffed man on the ground. More students will drop out. The other wheelchair girls. They might cancel the class for good. Gabriella will never come back. I’ll never see her again.
I dash out the door. “Let him go!” I shout. “Please! The kids are coming! They can’t see this!”
When I get to the huddle of people, Danika turns to me. “He’s violated the protective order,” she says. “This isn’t a choice anymore.”
“I led him down the sidewalk,” I say, frantic now. “Please, don’t arrest him. Everyone is going to see!” I kneel down next to Denham as if I can shield the world from spotting him.
But it’s too late. Cars start pulling in, parents bringing the next round of dancers. Kids start filing out the doors, leaving their classes.
Some of the parents hesitate, holding on to their children and hanging back on the steps. One or two of the cars slow down to turn, then drive right on by when they see the man on the ground.
“That’s more emails,” Danika says. She looks down at Denham. “Are youtryingto destroy my dance studio?”
“I just want my daughter,” Denham says, his cheek still pressed to the pavement. “That’s all I want.”
“Quiet,” the police officer orders. “I’m waiting on backup,” he says to Danika. “This was just supposed to be a serve.” He looks down at me. “I’d really prefer you stay away, Miss. I saw him harassing you.”
“He wasn’t…” I say, but trail off. There is no way to explain the complicated events that led to this moment.
“I’ll get in the car,” Denham says. “I won’t cause any trouble.”
“Boy, you have already caused a lot of trouble,” the officer says.
“He’ll do it,” I say quickly. “I know him. Just let him get in the car. Don’t scare everyone.”
“I’ll help,” Ted says.
The officer peers over at Ted. “And who are you?”
“My hired security,” Danika says.
“All right,” the officer says. He pulls Denham up by the handcuffs. “Into the car.”
Denham stands. The officer and Ted lead him over to the vehicle. When he’s safely inside and the door closed, my hands start to tremble. It’s too much. All of it. I wish I had never met him, never talked to him, never let him near me.
I wish he had told me he was my brother, and we’d just been friendly and graduated from the same school. Or even that he hated us all along and ran off with his parts-stealing friends.
The sidewalk bites into my knees. I want to get up and go back in the academy, but I don’t have the strength. The class yesterday. The stress today. I can’t handle it.
A breeze picks up the loose tendrils around my face, but I can’t even lift my arm to push them away. I just want to lie down and do nothing, think nothing, be nothing.
I know when Blitz comes out because I feel his arms around me. “Come on, Princess,” he says. “They’ve got the bad guy.”
I want to say that he isn’t the bad guy. That I am. That I led him to all of this. I pursued him when we were young. And I led him to this arrest. It’s me. All me. I’m the worst thing to happen tohim.
When I don’t move, Blitz scoops me up and carries me back to the academy. We pass everybody, the wheelchair girls, Janel, Suze.
I keep thinking each day that this is the worst day, but it just keeps happening. Bad day after bad day. This nightmare won’t end.
Blitz carries me down the hall to the storage room. It’s our happy place, dimly lit from the light coming in the high windows, rays landing on costumes and sparkly hats. He sets me on a stack of mats.
“Talk to me, Princess,” he says.
“He knows I know where Gabriella is,” I say, gulping air.
“That’s okay,” Blitz says, smoothing loose hair back from my forehead. “That’s different from knowing where she is.”
“But I can’t even see her anymore. Gwen removed her from the academy.” More fat tears roll down my face.
