by Rachel Shane
“Of course you did. You came here flaunting it. God! You’ve hung out with him before, haven’t you? And you didn’t tell me. You never tell me anything!”
“D! Please.” When I scrubbed my brow, my hand came back wet.
The anger twisted her features into cruel lines and I shrunk back in response. “I stood up for you. When the other girls bitched you out for quitting, I convinced them to sympathize with you. When they made fun of your dancing, I pointed out the things you did better than everyone else. When you didn’t ever call me back, I chalked it up to you being too busy helping your sister.” She added under her breath, “I’m such an idiot.”
The room was tipping over, slanting to the ground. It took all my effort to stay upright. “I’m so sorry, I—”
“Your sorries are meaningless.” She stalked off, knocking me against the wall in the process.
The only way I could make this right again was to set things straight with Lonnie. I’d have to break his heart. I knew how much that sucked. I bumbled back into the hallway, grabbing onto random shoulders to try to steady myself as I navigated through the room. The stupid apartment was so big that I got turned around more than once.
I finally found the kitchen, only to be void of Lonnie. His guitar rested against the iPod dock, which was now blasting some hardcore rap that made my brain hurt. I let out a breath. That meant Lonnie was still here, somewhere. I headed for it, intending to pick it up and bring it with me so he couldn’t leave without finding me first. I reached for it, but leaned too far forward and the next thing I knew, it crashed to the ground. And so did I. My knee landed on top of the wooden base and smashed right through it.
The loud boom of heavy wood hitting tile and my resulting scream sent heads turning in my direction. Pain radiated from my knee and from my head, but I knew they weren’t related.
The guitar looked as broken as I felt.
I pawed at the lower cabinets until I found the handle and used it to pull me upright. Blood dripped from a large gash on my knee. My stomach churned but this time not from the contents swimming inside me but from the knowledge that I’d ruined Lonnie’s dream, too. I raced out of there, desperate to find the exit before I ruined anything else.
I found Lonnie first. I crashed right into him on my way out of the kitchen.
He wrapped his arms around me to steady me. “Are you okay?” His eyes traced down to the blood on my fingers from wiping my knee. “Holy crap,” he yelled to the other partygoers. “Someone get a washcloth. Stat!”
No one listened.
“No. I’m fine. I mean, I’m not.” I dragged my hands over my face, surely swirling my melting make up even more. “I’m a mess.”
He cocked his head. “I can see that.” He reached out a hand and I hopped back, nearly losing my balance again. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He leaned in toward my face, and I cupped my hand over my mouth to prevent him from getting any more kissing ideas.
“It’s okay, I’m not going to smell your breath or anything. Did you get sick before?” He pried my hand away from my face and placed it back down by my side. “I figured that’s why you ran out. I was waiting by the bathroom for you.”
My chest constricted at the way he looked at me with such hopeful, concerned eyes. They should have been narrowed, like everyone else’s. “Lonnie, I like you, I do.”
“Uh oh.” He snapped his hand back, shoving it deep in his pocket. “I hope this is the alcohol talking.”
“I just got out of a relationship.” After all my lies, it felt good for once to tell the truth. “I’m not ready for another one.”
Weirdly, a grin crested his lips. “I’ll take it. It’s not a rejection. It’s an opportunity.” He tilted my chin up with his finger. “To change your mind.”
Except it wasn’t my mind he needed to change. It was his.
I couldn’t be interested in him. Not when I still couldn’t stop thinking about Finn. Not when my best friend—er…ex-best friend—wanted him.
After that, Lonnie and I started hanging out less and less. When we did hang out, our free flowing banter turned stilted. The space between our bodies grew further and further apart until we practically stood on opposite sides of the room.
Lara traded in her crutches for a permanent limp. The physical therapists stopped coming by. I wondered if Lara had finally given up and accepted reality that she would never dance again. She was lucky just to be walking. I chalked up her newfound philosophy to starting college and discovering all the other opportunities available to her. Maybe she didn’t need dancing anymore.
I certainly didn’t.
Displaying 3 out of 403 comments.
Crista said…
And now you made me look bad too! No one believe what you read here, okay?
Amanda said…
I believe ever word. Rock on, Kasey.
Finn said…
Dude, pretty sure there’s something she wants way more than dancing. ;-) At least that’s what she told Hayden in R265.
WITH ANOTHER FIVE HUNDRED dollars drained from the family bank account, I’d run out of money to cover Lara’s frivolous spending. I’d asked her about it countless times over the last few days but each time she played the victim and either ignored my question or shot me through the heart with a reminder of what I did to her. Each morning she’d be gone by the time I left for school and wouldn’t return until after I’d snuggled into bed. I’d woken up earlier and earlier every day but I somehow always missed her departure.
So I stayed up all night, staking my perch at the kitchen table so as not to miss her. The sun was still off duty, and darkness cast ominous shadows on the furniture. All with the backbeat of my dad’s snores echoing from upstairs. I stared at my cell phone, sitting silently on the table. Finn didn’t write back. Except for his last comment—and I did mean last—his room number.
I’d run out of blog, so if he didn’t respond to my email, I probably would never hear from him again. I gripped the edge of the table to keep me from shattering.
Lara limped into the entryway, clutching the wall for support. “What are you doing up so early?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” I yawned for emphasis.
She nodded at me as she backed out of the room.
When the door slammed behind her, I scrambled out of my chair and hustled after her. Less than a month into the school year and I was ditching school. It wasn’t a coincidence that ditching meant I wouldn’t have to face Lonnie and Denise.
Lara limped to the end of the block, taking each step as if it required great effort. What would have taken me one minute took her twenty. I trailed her nine blocks to the subway, merging with crowds of pedestrians whenever I thought Lara might turn around. Despite her injury, she chose to go to a subway stop father away from our usual one—the one that I took to get to ManPrep. No wonder she left so early. On a normal day, I would have been halfway to school already despite leaving the house two hours after her.
She descended the subway stairs, and I waited until she disappeared below before I followed. Lara lowered herself into a wooden seat on the platform, avoiding eye contact with the strangers near her. I pulled Dad’s Yankee hat over my eyes and blended behind a group of commuters each lost in their own world of music. They reminded me of Lonnie.
Another pang stung my chest.
Lights and a roaring horn warned of an oncoming subway. Lara eased herself off the chair and limped toward the train. The doors started zooming closed behind her. I sprinted toward the next car and the doors almost crushed me as I squeezed through their half-open entryway. By the time the train sprung into motion, I was out of breath and on my way to a heart attack.
Pressing myself against the window helped me watch the passengers file out of the cars station after station. With each stop, more passengers exited until the crowded car grew sparse. Finally, Lara came into view stepping over the threshold. I wedged my foot in the door so it wouldn’t close on me and trap me inside. The doors bump
ed my foot and shot back like elevators detecting an obstruction.
“Watch your freaking foot, kid!” yelled one of the remaining passengers.
Lara reached the turnstile.
“Stand clear of the closing doors,” an automated announcement said.
Once Lara made it to the stairs, I exited the train and the doors collided shut behind me.
Phew.
Lara limped another few blocks before turning a corner. Skyscrapers cast her in dark shadows. I thought we’d get out somewhere in the East Village, where Tysh College was located, but we blended with business suits in the crowded streets of Hell’s Kitchen.
The most recent ATM withdrawal came from Hell’s Kitchen.
She turned into a building with glass walls covering the entire bottom floor, exposing a large dance studio. Muscular dancers stretched on the wooden floor.
My stomach dropped. Lara was taking dance classes? She couldn’t even walk straight. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved—maybe just maybe I hadn’t ruined her life forever—or terrified that this was how her injury had gotten worse.
Lara set her bag down in the far corner of the room, keeping her back to the window. While the other girls stretched, Lara eased herself onto the floor and straightened out her legs. The other dancers kept their distance from her, leaving a good ten feet of space on the floor, as if she repelled them with an invisible shield.
I knew how that felt.
I crushed the hat beneath my armpit and entered the lobby.
“Are you new?” said a woman, attaching a microphone to the elastic on her sweat pants.
Good. If she was the teacher, she could answer my questions. “Is Lara Fishbein in your class?” A stupid opaque wall blocked my view of Lara.
The woman pursed her lips. “Listen, her injury didn’t happen at this studio despite the rumors going around. Just give her some space. That’s what I told the other students. I’m Erika,” she said as we shook hands. “Did you bring a change of clothes?” She eyed my jeans. “If not, it’s fine, but you’ll need to go barefoot.”
She thought I was here to dance. That meant I looked like a dancer to her, still. My brain was screaming, “Tell her you’re a dancer! Join her class! Yayyayayayay!” I forced other words out through gritted teeth. “I’m just here for Lara.”
“It’s such a shame, isn’t it?” She put her hand to her chest. “God, I don’t know what I’d do if that happened to me. There’s a rumor going around that she used to be one of New York’s most promising students and now she’s been kicked out of every studio in town.”
Every studio in town. I bet each class she was kicked out of lined up with an ATM around the corner from it.
“Anyway, I’ve been fighting with the owner of the studio,” Erika continued, “I don’t want to give up on her too, but even with the liability waiver, they’re not taking any chances.”
Liability waiver? Uh oh.
“— And the studio owner’s been pushing me to find someone who’ll convince her to leave. She gave me a heart attack the other day when she fell. Had to dismiss everyone early.”
My heart sank. “She fell? Did she get hurt?”
Erika must have seen the panic on my face because she flicked at the air. “If she did, couldn’t have been too bad. She came back, right?”
I sucked on my lower lip. I had a feeling Lara would come back even if her bone was sticking straight out of her skin.
“So will you help me convince her to leave?”
I knew one way to get her to never come back to this class. I took a deep breath, mustering up all my courage. “I’ll join your class.”
I paid my tuition. Another five hundred freaking dollars drained from the family bank account. At least now I could look Mom in the eye when I claimed I was the one who drained it.
The polished floor felt cold underneath my feet as I padded toward my sister.
“What are you doing here?” we both asked each other at the same time. The attitude and volume of her voice drowned out my soft, concerned one.
The other girls snapped their heads in our direction and ended their mild chatter.
“How many classes have you taken?” I sat cross-legged next to Lara on the floor, diverting my eyes to the eavesdroppers a few feet away.
She ignored me.
“Better question. How many have you been kicked out of? Erika told me you fell last week. You don’t need to push yourself if you’re not ready. Heal some more first.”
Lara didn’t react at all, but the other girls inched closer to us.
I lowered my voice. “So what if you lost your scholarship, you can still reapply.”
She snapped her head toward me. “And you wonder why I had to get away from you. To stop you from going through my stuff.” A tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it away so slowly, it looked like it took great effort to move her arm. What had happened to her between the party and now when she had so much anger inside her, she had projected it onto the entire dance team? Now it seemed like she barely had enough energy to sigh at me.
Erika turned on the music. Loud beats pumped through the speakers. The other girls separated and took their spots in line. Lara’s elbows locked and quivered as she pushed herself off the floor. I stood and offered her my hand but she refused. The other girls sidestepped in place, warming up.
“At least you kept that a secret from Mom and Dad.” Lara turned to face the front of the room, raising her feet about a centimeter off the ground while the other girls lifted their knees to their chests.
“And from the blog. This is just between you and me.”
“Good.”
The dancers touched the floor side to side. My own hips started to sway to the rhythm. I planted my feet firmly on the floor, forcing all my weight into keeping my legs as stiff as tree trunks. “Which you still haven’t read.”
“And I’m not going to.”
The warm up ended and Erika transitioned into harder moves, all involving swiveling hips, graceful arms, and high kicks. I wrapped my arms around my chest to prevent them from getting any ideas. As the other girls knocked out every move with gusto, I wondered if I was as good as them. They had the finesse but they lacked the flare I knew I could give the steps. They kept glancing back at Lara. Checking on her. To see if she would fall.
Lara’s hip movements resembled a first time hula hooper who didn’t understand the dynamics of how to keep the circle up. I knew I could dance better than her now and that was the most devastating realization of all.
I swallowed hard. “There’s one thing I don’t understand. Why pretend to go to college?” Maybe if I knew her motive, I could use that as a way to convince her to help me with the fundraiser.
The dancers squatted while Lara only drooped her shoulders forward. My hips descended at the insistence of gravity, but I fought it and pulled myself back upright before Lara noticed.
Lara sighed. “It’s only a half truth. I am taking classes. Dance ones. My hip is not going to heal by just waiting around. I have to push it, and when I do, they’ll give me back my scholarship. No one ever has to know I lost it to begin with.” She dipped lower, wincing in pain. A few heads snapped in her direction.
I wasn’t sure if Lara was lying to me or lying to herself. My skin prickled as evil thoughts betrayed my brain. If she was able to dance again, maybe I could too. But that dream was as unrealistic as me thinking I could ever be good enough for Broadway.
“Everyone thinks this is a minor injury. Even Jules and Ali. When I’m as good as new, no one will know the truth.”
“Why’d you stop going to Physical Therapy then?”
“How do you know that?” Lara increased the vigor in her arm movements. At least they hit the beat and showcased some of her talent. But she looked like a conductor, leading an orchestra while the rest of her barely moved.
“Lara. Look at you, you’re in pain. This isn’t working. You need to see a doctor.”
“I’m fine. This is not
hing compared to what I’m used to.” Staring at me, she stomped her foot too hard, with too much gumption. Her lips quivered as she tried to fight through the pain to prove some unnecessary point to me.
I couldn’t let her keep hurting herself like that. And so I said the clincher. “You’re not as good as them anymore.” I gestured around the room at the girls who followed Erika’s steps like mirror images, while Lara performed like a fuzzy and faded carbon copy.
“Yes. I am. I will be.” Lara bent her body like an extortionist to match the low dips Erika demonstrated at the front of the room. “I have to be.” Her legs wobbled, but she kept going, leaping into a split and stretching her bad leg as far as it would go. Crying out in pain, she landed on her butt with a thud and another scream.
The whole room stopped to stare at her. I bent over her to shield their vision as much as possible.
She reached out and grabbed my arm. She must be desperate. Her other hand clutched her hip. She stared at me with undulating pupils, her eyes saying, “Don’t go away.” My heart broke. How could I ask her to be involved in the fundraiser if it would mean giving up on her dream and replacing it with a new one? I grabbed her hand and suddenly the moment was all too familiar. Me, holding onto her, promising not to let go. She must have come to the same realization because her eyes widened and she dropped my hand like it had scorched her.
My heart felt heavy in my chest.
The other girls gathered around us. “Are you okay?” one of them asked, but the rest looked like they just stepped onto a stage in front of a packed audience and forgot the choreography. “Not this again,” another scoffed.
Beside me, Lara sniffled, obviously fighting back tears of pain.
Erika cut the music. “Drinks and bathrooms everyone. Chop chop.”
The other girls left the room, gathering in the doorway instead. Erika clapped her hands and the girls dispersed into the hallway. Then, she approached us.
She touched Lara’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”
Lara tried to nod, but her face squished in pain.