The Hit List

by Nikki Urang

  Two girls from the music department walk toward us down the hallway. One is in a class with me. She’s hard to miss with her bright pink hair. They talk quietly to each other, but as they get closer, I can make out their words.

  The brunette I don’t recognize plays with a strand of her hair as she walks. “I just don’t understand why he hasn’t called. It was amazing. I would think he’d want to do it again.”

  I can only imagine why she’s upset. Probably another victim.

  “I saw him flirting with Betsy today in Intro to Theater. Maybe it wasn’t as amazing as you think.” The pink-haired girl shrugs. She doesn’t look concerned about either her friend’s or Betsy’s wellbeing.

  I glance at Adam, but he doesn’t give anything away. I’m not even sure he’s paying any attention to them. The girls continue to walk down the hallway and their voices get too quiet for me to hear any more.

  Luke’s roommate, Nathan, approaches us from the opposite direction. He would be attractive if I’d never spoken to him. His green eyes were the thing that drew me in, but then he opened his mouth.

  His black hair is a mess. He’s either just come from rehearsal or from some girl’s room. He gives me the head nod when he’s a couple feet away. His sleazy smile gives me the creeps. “Hey, sexy. Want to come over later?”

  Eww. Not in a million years.

  I grimace. “No, thanks. I’ll pass.”

  “Suit yourself. It’s only a matter of time before you give in to this.” He lifts his shirt and gestures to his abs.

  No. That’s just sick. I don’t want anything to do with him ever.

  Adam curls his lip. “Didn’t you get chlamydia last year from sleeping with some random girl?”

  Nathan smiles and winks at me. “I think that random girl was her roommate, but don’t worry. I have a clean bill of health now.”

  He’s about as far from attractive as he can possibly get. “Something to be proud of.”

  That’s probably all he has to be proud of.

  “You know where I live.” Nathan rounds a corner down the hall.

  Adam stares at the hallway where he disappeared. “It’s unnatural how much you and Brielle get hit on.”

  “It’s because of that game. These guys are running around trying to sleep with every girl on campus.”

  I don’t even understand how they would get someone to sleep with them after everyone in school found out about the game. No one is that desperate. And if they are, they need higher standards.

  He stops walking and looks at me. “You know, not every guy at this school is playing that game. Some of them might actually be interested in dating you. Like James.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  Brandon is in the studio when we arrive. He looks like he’s almost finished. A towel drapes around his neck and a tank top sticks to his chest, the visible skin flushed from his workout.

  Adam puts a hand on the door to push it open.

  “Shouldn’t we wait until he’s done?”

  “I have time reserved. We’re fine.”

  Brandon raises his hand in a wave as we enter the studio. “Hey, guys. I was just leaving.”

  “Hey,” Adam says.

  I give Brandon a small wave. The last time I saw him, I was passing out. Not exactly the best first impression for one of the people who gets to vote for me for Fall Showcase.

  “Are you feeling better?” He wipes his face and throws the towel over his shoulder. His brown hair is slicked back against his head, but a few spikes stick up here and there.

  Adam frowns at me, confused, and it takes me a second to remember that he doesn’t know I almost passed out today.

  “Yeah, thanks. It’s just been a rough week.”

  Brandon slides his iPod into the pocket in his pants. “Well, get used to that. You’re going to have a lot of those around here.”

  Adam laughs. “I wish I could say he was lying.” He puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side.

  It’s awkward, but I’d rather be closer to Adam than Brandon. I don’t pull away.

  “I wouldn’t worry so much if I were you. From what I’ve seen, you stand a good chance of making it into Fall Showcase and of being in the running for London.” Brandon picks up his stuff and walks toward the door.

  I turn to watch him. I like it better when there’s distance between us. He gives me a weird vibe. “Isn’t it a little unfair that the seniors get to judge who makes it into Fall Showcase? Why wouldn’t you all just vote for yourselves?”

  Brandon takes a drink of his water. “Seniors get a free pass to Fall Showcase.”

  “Of course.” I guess it makes sense that they should automatically be in one of the last shows they’ll get in front of the talent agencies.

  “I look forward to seeing you in rehearsal, Sadie.” Brandon pushes through the door and disappears into the hallway.

  Adam whistles as the door closes behind Brandon.

  “What?”

  Adam is hard to read. His face is guarded and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. “Just be careful. If you’re worried about anyone playing that game, it should be Brandon. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s the brains behind the whole thing.”

  “What are you talking about?” Something about Brandon rubs me the wrong way, but despite that, he’s been one of the nicest people in L. A. so far.

  “I’m not saying not to trust Brandon because I’m sure he can be really nice, but he and Luke don’t exactly get along. I don’t think he would toy with you just to get to Luke, but you never know.” He grabs my hand and pulls me into the middle of the studio.

  “That’s crazy.”

  What difference would it make anyway? Luke doesn’t like me so why would it affect him in the least if Brandon pays me any attention.

  Adam laughs. “I never said it wasn’t. Just watch your back. There’s been a target on it since you got here.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  It feels like people have been against me from day one. I wish I could convince myself that I’m blowing everything out of proportion. But Adam’s right.

  “I worry about you and Brielle since you’re both on the top ten list. I shouldn’t have to worry this much about people.”

  I laugh. He must not see half the shit that Brielle does. “I don’t think you have to worry about Brielle. She seems like she can hold her own. And she’s playing her own game by leading them on.”

  His brow pulls together in confusion. “She wasn’t always like that. She was really shy last year when she started here. I don’t know what happened, but it was like a switch got flipped. The city got to her, I guess. She started caring more about sleeping around and partying than going to class. That’s what got her in trouble with Miss Catherine. I just don’t want to see her have a breakdown because of this game.”

  I don’t want to see that either. I can’t handle it if we both go off the deep end. “She’ll be okay.”

  “What about you? Are you okay with everything? Is it weird that everyone knows you already?”

  I shrug. I’d rather no one knew me because I probably wouldn’t have ended up in the game, but there’s nothing I can do about that now. “People can be weird about it, but I’m fine.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, I liked the article about you in Jeté Magazine.”

  “It’s not, but thanks.” It’s a constant reminder of my failure. And now it’s a constant reminder that everywhere I go in the dance world, everyone will already know about me, making my fresh start impossible.

  “What did you want to talk about?” He sits down on the floor, stretching out his legs.

  He looks sincere and it makes me want to tell him about everything, but I don’t think I’m ready to do that yet.

  I take a deep breath. “I need help partnering.”

  He runs a hand through his hair and gives me a crooked smile. “You’ve done it before. It’s kind of like riding a bike. Once you start getting into it ag
ain, it’ll all come back to you.”

  If only it were that easy. I would give anything for that to be my problem. “That’s not the issue. I know I can partner. It’s not like I lost it in the last year.”

  “You’re confusing me. You can’t partner, but you can?” He looks like he’s trying to do calculus in his head.

  I sigh. I need to tell him enough so he’ll understand, even though I don’t want to tell him anything at all. He deserves some kind of explanation if he’s willing to take the time to work with me. It’s rude to expect him to help me with no reason why.

  “I haven’t partnered with anyone since my injury. The whole reason I got injured in the first place was because a lift went wrong.”

  “You’re scared.”

  I can’t meet his eyes. I don’t want to see the pity. I never wanted people to feel sorry for me.

  I don’t want to talk about this, to tell him that I’m scared I’ll get hurt again, to tell him Patrick shattered any future trust I would ever have with another partner.

  “What if I get hurt again and I can’t dance anymore?” It’s a very real possibility.

  He laughs. It booms off the walls and lightens my mood a little. “No pressure.”

  I shove his arm playfully. “I don’t think you’ll drop me.”

  “I’ll help you in any way I can, but at some point you’re going to have to dance with Luke.” He looks up at me from his position on the floor. There’s sadness in his eyes.

  I’m well aware of that, but the thought of a repeat of today’s rehearsal is sickening. “I just want to be able to get used to lifts again without him.”

  Walking to the stereo, he turns the music up. “Let’s take it slow. Dance with me. No choreography, just us.” He stands up straight when he comes back to me. It makes him look more confident.

  He wraps his arm around my waist and grabs my right hand with his left. We dance around the studio, using every inch of space. He’s good at improvising and he pulls me into small familiar lifts from time to time. It reminds me of dancing with Patrick before everything fell apart and he left. Familiar and safe. The way it should be with Luke.

  The song ends and he pulls me into a hug. “You did great, Sadie. So, now the question is—”

  “Why can’t you dance like that with me?” Luke asks from the doorway.

  7

  Luke leans against the doorframe of the studio. He pushes off against the wood and walks toward us. I’m frozen in Adam’s arms, but Adam solves that problem for me when he steps forward between me and Luke and his arms fall from around me.

  I silently curse at him for eliminating my buffer against Luke. I feel like I’ve done something wrong, but I shouldn’t. This is probably the best thing I’ve done for myself in months.

  “Hey, Luke,” Adam says.

  “Hi.” Anger rolls off Luke’s body in waves.

  He has no right to be angry.

  “I’m just going to go,” Adam says, picking up his bag. “Watch yourself, Morrison.”

  I plead for Adam to stay with my eyes, to help me explain, but I know he can’t. He turns back to me once he’s behind Luke and mouths the words “talk to him.”

  Yeah, right.

  Adam disappears into the hallway and I’m left alone in the studio with Luke.

  “What are you doing here?” I cross my arms over my chest. Anger is the only thing I have. If I can stay angry, I won’t get hurt.

  “I could ask you the same thing.” His eyes burn into me.

  I see the jealousy he’s feeling, but I don’t care. I’m doing this to be a better dancer. Whatever it takes. That’s what I told myself before I left New York. Whatever you have to do to make your dream come true, do it without regret. Whatever it takes to make it to Fall Showcase and London. Whatever it takes to keep dancing.

  “It’s not a crime to dance with someone else.” My right hand finds my hip, my other clenching into a fist at my side.

  “It is when it interferes with our partnership. You know he’s gay, right? He doesn’t want to get in your pants no matter what you do. I mean, you can’t possibly be that dense.” He smirks at me, knowing his words have cut deep.

  He’s just crossed a line he’s not coming back from. Not everyone gets involved with someone from the opposite sex because they’re interested in some sort of sexual relationship. It feels cheap that he would even suggest something like that.

  I glare at him. “Fuck you, Luke.”

  He runs his hands through his hair and takes a deep breath. “Can we start over? I’m sorry I said that stuff to you earlier. This year is really important to me. I can’t afford to screw it up.”

  He couldn’t screw up if he tried. He’ll always have the safety net of his parents to pull him out of whatever situation he gets into. If I screw up this stage in his life, he’ll still have his talent and his parents to fall back on.

  “Your parents are head of the department. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” They wouldn’t let him fail.

  “Which makes it that much harder to break into this business. People look at me like I’m some spoiled little rich kid,” he says, pointing at his chest. “My parents are in charge of the dance department at one of the most prestigious performing arts schools in the country and the only reason I got in is because I’m their child.”

  I frown. He may have an in with his parents being who they are, but it still took some sort of talent to get him where he is. Talent I’ve seen. Talent that makes him one of the best in the school. “That’s not true. You’re an amazing dancer.”

  He smiles bitterly. “No one sees that. Not the talent scouts. Not the people who are out there offering jobs. They see my parents’ name. They see I have raw talent, but I don’t have the best extensions and sometimes my turnout isn’t there.”

  I smile at the criticisms he holds against himself because I’ve been there. One flaw in an otherwise breathtaking performance is always the focus of attention. A sickled foot, a bent knee, a missed count.

  People are paid to find flaws in us. It doesn’t matter how hard we try, there will always be something and it’s hard to be okay with that. It’s hard not to take every thing they say to heart. It’s not just injuries that destroy dancers. It’s imperfections.

  The little things are a dancer’s downfall. Because when someone wants to find something wrong, they will. We’re not perfect, and we never will be.

  “They see flaws that my parents’ child should have left behind by age ten. They focus on every thing that sets me apart from being just like them. I had access to some of the best teachers in the world. I should be perfect.”

  I can see the pain in his eyes even though he tries to cover it with anger. He sounds so deflated, like these people have the power to decide who he is.

  My heart bleeds for him. He strives for perfection, but he’s only human. I learned a long time ago that internalizing every flaw, every criticism, slowly sucks the life out of you if you don’t create a balance. Dancing becomes a chore. And the day that happens is the day you should walk away.

  “It’s not always about perfect technique. You’ve got to have heart, too.”

  The dark blue in his eyes turns to ice and he crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, that’s definitely your area of expertise. I hear my parents talk about you. I’ve seen your audition tapes. You don’t just dance, you shine. I can’t take my eyes off you as soon as you step out onto the floor. Hands down, you’re the best dancer at this school.”

  I stare at him, daring him to add a sarcastic comment about how I’ll never surpass his talent, but it doesn’t come. I want to tell him about my own struggles in New York. About the time a teacher told me I could never be a ballerina at the age of eleven because I didn’t have the body type and recommended I take diet pills. Or the time when I was fifteen and a director told me I didn’t have thick enough skin to make it in this world because I cried at an audition when he called me fat. Or the time last year when I want
ed to give up on my dream because the last person I ever thought would leave me did.

  But I can’t. I can’t be vulnerable with him. He may trust me enough to share his fears, but I refuse to let someone in like that again. I will never trust anyone enough for that.

  “I thought you were the best dancer at the school.” My goal is to throw his words back in his face, but when I meet his gaze, I don’t find the usual cocky attitude I’ve gotten used to from Luke. Instead, he looks a little lost and more than a little scared.

  I shouldn’t have said it.

  He shakes his head, a sad smile on his lips. “We both know that’s not really true. I’ve gotten used to playing the part. I’m successful by association. I get jobs because of my parents’ positions. That’s my form of success, and I can’t afford to lose it. If I can’t maintain that, I won’t have anything left.” His words are soft, so soft that I’m not sure I heard him right. His eyes search mine for some sign that I understand him.

  This is exactly why I can’t trust him. “You don’t love dancing, you love success. If that’s the case, you’ll never be truly successful because the minute you step out on that stage, the whole world will know dancing isn’t the most important thing in your life.”

  He takes a step closer to me and runs his hand through his hair. “You don’t get it. This is what I want. I want to be the best. I want to deserve all the shit that appears for me at the snap of my parents’ fingers. I don’t want to live under their shadow anymore, and I need the best dancer at The Conservatory to help me get there.”

  I can’t help my smile. It’s validating to hear, especially since I feel like I’m doing something wrong every time I’m around a faculty member.

  “How can we fix this partnership?” His eyes plead with me.

  I’m not sure I even want to fix it. Trusting him won’t make my life any easier. If anything, it’ll make it more complicated. “It’s not my business whether or not you’re playing the sex game, but you need to stop trying to play for me if you are.”

  He sighs and rubs his palms against his eyes. “I’ve told you. I’m not playing that game. What are you really worried about?” He scans my face as I try to look as impassive as possible.