Page 58 of Facing Off
“She fired me?—”
My thumb starts rubbing circles.
“Stop that,” she hisses.
“Nope.”
Her mouth flattens as she clenches her jaw. “Why don’tyou ever listen? Or do what I expect you to do? Why are you…such a thorn in my side?”
“Tell me how it’s possible you got fired, darling.”
Sonya closes her eyes. “I don’t know. I guess they’re afraid I’m going to hurt someone with my dancing. Like I’m doing it on purpose. Screwing up. Falling. Why would I do that? This place is my home. I’ve spent more time here than at my apartment.”
My heart quietly cleaves into pieces. How could anyone not want Sonya? It doesn’t make sense to me.
She swallows, continuing. “Madame Kozlova was supposed to believe in me. She knows that I’m mentally the strongest ballerina she’s ever met. That she never has to worry about me, because I never let her down.”
A light breeze ruffles Sonya’s hair as she opens her eyes again. Black pupils drenched with misery.
Her pain sticks to me. I can’t fucking stand it. I hate it so much.
“And now? After two mistakes she wants to—” Sonya tugs at her hair. “I’m strong-willed, headstrong, independent. All those things. That’s me. But it’s not enough? I’m not good enough? Now w-what?”
She wheezes.
I let go of her wrist and cover the back of her neck with my hand, squeezing lightly. “Breathe, baby.”
Sonya shudders. Then inhales sharply.
“Not.” She huffs. “Your. Baby.”
The dread in my stomach doesn’t erase but slightly lifts hearing the bite in her words. “It shouldn’t surprise me that you’re stubborn even when you hyperventilate, but it does.”
“Not nearly stubborn enough.” Sonya looks at her hands.
They’re trembling.
My teeth grind. Never mind—undefined, unrelenting pain stabs me behind the ribcage. Especially when she tries to make them into fists and fails.
“I don’t want to feel like this,” mumbles Sonya. “I can’t stand it. I hate it so much. I want…” Her voice drifts.
“What do you want?” I ask softly.
“To get mad.”
“Yeah?”
“I’d prefer it. Any day.”
“Okay.” I offer her my hand. “If that’s what you need, I’m going to make it happen.”
25
SONYA
I’m staring at graffiti,specifically a Scream All You Want decal block-lettered on the wall. Below that is a bench. On it is protective gear to be worn over our clothes.
I lift up a padded jumpsuit and start putting it on, pretending that my nervous system isn’t flashing warning signals in my brain. That these fidgety, fumbling fingers of mine are settled, when they aren’t.
