Page 22 of Facing Off
I bet he’s worried that I’m not answering, but all I can think about right now is ballet. I’ll have to call him later, after I dance some more. There’s this one move I thought I’d nailed perfectly, but strangely I’m starting to stumble with the landing. That’s…odd.
I work on it some more, telling myself not to worry.
Six grueling hours later, I’ve forgotten about taking breaks, having a proper dinner at a decent time, or heading home at all. I decide there’s no point in leaving. I’m sleeping overnight at the studio. This way, I can fit in some extra practice before everyone else shows up in the morning.
I head to the showers in the building. It’s a quick rinse and lather. I have no time to luxuriate in the steam and soothe my sore muscles. I have to be efficient and get as much sleep as possible tonight. Ten minutes later, I’m wearing comfy clothes that I stored inside my locker. Thisisn’t the first time I’ve done this, so everything I needed was packed in a bag.
After moisturizing, I head to the couch inside Madame Kozlova’s office. It’s the best spot to sleep. Soon I’m stretching my sore body on leather cushions, and shutting my eyes. That’s when I finally remember that I forgot to call Quinn back.
Shit.
My head thumps against the armrest. It’s too late now. We’ll have to talk to each other later. I bite the edge of my lip. He’ll understand I’ve been busy lately, right?
Itisone of the lessons that the foster system taught me and Quinn. People don’t always do what you want them to do. You can’t rely on anyone to be consistent or available. Not to say, I have this horrible past of abuse and torment making me think that. I don’t. So many other kids have it way worse than I did. And some came out of the system with a proper, adorable family.
Me, I’m in the middle.
I got placed with guardians at the age of seven who gave me food and shelter, and that’s about it. I guess I expected more, because leading up to that age, I was in a group home run by stretched-thin professionals who weren’t given enough government funding to figure out what to do with thirty kids of various ages whose situations unexpectedly left them without families. Most nights—and some days—the golden era of television is what brought us all together. I thrived on ’90s family sitcoms. They made my expectations soar. I thought that was the kind of family waiting for me once I got fostered.
Needless to say when they found me a forever home, I learned the truth. Sure, I got a room to myself, regular meals, and a new school to attend, but none of the other stuff. My guardians didn’t care about how I was feeling, askabout my day, give me any fatherly and motherly advice, or use corny catchphrases to make me laugh.
Frankly, they barely spoke to me.
Maybe that’s why I don’t mind being isolated sometimes.
I stare at my phone, debating. Then put it away. Sleep pulls my eyes shut. It’s okay, I decide. After the audition. That’s when I’ll reach out properly to both Kavi and Quinn. If my stomach clenches over the delay, I reason it’s not because of guilt.
They shouldn’t be too surprised. My dedication to this dream is what’s taken me this far, and it’s what I have going for me.
“Tomorrow, everything will change when Bob Pepita asks me to be his principal dancer, and they’ll understand,” I whisper to myself before drifting off.
9
ADRIAN
As soon asQuinn told me Sonya hasn’t picked up her phone in a few days, I left the club.
I didn’t know where to go.
Even though Sonya and I came across each other often enough, she almost always left me hanging—after a few words or even a short staredown. So it should be no surprise that I don’t know a lot about Sonya’s personal life and where she likes to hang out.
She’s not at her apartment.
Quinn confirmed that.
But not knowing what else to do, I went there. I camp out in the lobby all night, waiting for Sonya to come home. I’m buddies with Sonya’s doorman, Farim, now.
She doesn’t show up.
Now it’s morning, and Quinn has more information.
“Sorry, it took a while to find it since they moved, but this is her dance studio’s new address.”
In the background of Quinn’s video call, Lokhov pops up. “This is a shit idea. You two are going to get into trouble.”
Quinn winces. “Fuck. I know I’m overreacting,” he says. “But?—”
“You’re her brother,” I say firmly. “And you need to double-check to make sure she’s okay.”
