Page 25 of Facing Off
Because I don’t understand either. A few minutes ago, I was preparing for my grand allegro combination, ready to leap high with my legs extended and then?—
I forgot how to dance.
That can’t be it. I’ve trained so long for this moment, but I have no idea how else to explain it.
I…forgot…how…to…dance…?
Panic soaks into my skin. This has never happened to me before. What’s going on? I lift my head up, only a few inches, as commotion rises in the audience. People gawk. Mouths gossip. The sounds of pens over paper scratch my ears as if they’re crossing me off a list I’ve sacrificed everything to get my name on.
Hughes tries helping me up, but I’m ignoring him and rising. My breathing is shallow. Raspy. I can’t think properly.
What have I done? Where is the choreographer? Will he let me start over?
My head jerks around, searching the audience for a stout man bundled in a silk scarf.
No. I want to scream. He’s already gotten up, with his back turned to the stage, striding towards the exit of the auditorium.
Madame Kozlova pulled so many strings to make today’s solo audition happen. The breath in my lungs disappears as I realizeI’ve failed. My nails dig into my palms. I’m bracing hard and fighting not to stumble offstage. I can’t. If I did that, it would mean I’m irrevocably finished. That’s…not true. It can’t be. I’malwaysstrong and stubborn, no matter what situation I face.
My fingers shake as I curl them into harder fists.
Be a rock, Sonya. You have to stay strong. Come on, think. There are worse things that could happen. Way worse. Remember that and don’t fall apart. You can’t. You’re fine. Keep it together.
As I stand there, people in the audience begin to get up. The choreographer’s entourage is also leaving.
“Close the curtains,” commands my dance mistress, gesturing at someone. That same mouth that was encouraging me a few minutes ago is now a pressed wrinkle.
As soon as the heavy velvet drops, I spin around. That’s a mistake because I see him, and the control I thought I was holding onto, cracks.
“Why are you here?” I bite out before I can stop myself. “Did Quinn send you? Just because I forgot to call him back.”
Hughes draws close. I hate how I have to angle my head up to make eye contact.
“What?” I demand. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
It’s been a while since I’ve seen this kind of expression on his face, and somehow, it still bothers me.
Barring that confusing moment on the park bench, I think I always expect Hughes to smirk, laugh, and crack jokes. There’s no storm strong enough to rain on his parade.
So the fact that his mouth is tipped the wrong way? That his usual awful, arrogant smile is nowhere to be seen? Another wave of stress hits me as I’m reminded that my performance wasthatbad.
Without meaning to, I wrap my arms around myself. The kind of unsteady, wobbly, vulnerable gesture that I never never imagined I’d make with anyone watching.
Something different flashes across Adrian’s blue eyes.
11
ADRIAN
The imageof her using her arms to hug herself rips straight through me, knocking all the air out of my lungs.
But then.
I swear, a second later, her arms drop back at her sides. As if the vulnerability was a trick of the light. There one moment and gone the next.
“Hey, are you okay? Sonya darling?—”
Her dark eyes go dull.
