“You may begin,” the stern-looking man at the end of the table said.
I settled into fourth position. You’re ready, I reminded myself. I’d broken in my pointe shoes more over the weekend, and even managed to sneak in a couple extra hours of practice in the school gym during lunchtime. My toes and arches still ached, but I could tell they were already stronger than they’d been just the week before.
I pushed off from fourth position, tombé-ing with one leg as I swung my supporting leg up, performing a series of step-over turns. Then I moved into a pas de bourrée, imagining myself as a bird, perching on a branch, then fluttering up, down, up, down, up. The moves I’d choreographed with Signora Benucci flowed together. That’s when I felt it—the magic moment when everything fused and my legs and arms felt like music and motion combined.
As I finished my final pirouette and moved into a low curtsy for the judges, I broke into a smile. No matter what happened, I’d danced my best for them. I felt the truth of it in the tingling of my limbs, in the happiness hurtling through my veins.
I barely saw Violet or the other waiting dancers as I left the studio and changed into my street shoes; adrenaline turned the hallway into a heady blur. When I stepped out into the sunshine and saw no sign of Ethan, my exhilaration dampened. He hadn’t come. But as soon as the thought flashed through my mind, a second one came behind it, a voice censuring me. Who were you really hoping for? the voice whispered. Ethan? Or Lanz?
I struggled to silence the voice. Of course it was Ethan. It’s always been Ethan. But … what if I’d outgrown “always”? What if “always” didn’t fit Ethan and me—us—anymore?
I pulled out my phone. Five text messages. Three from Tilly—each one exhibiting more and more frustrated emoji faces—asking for an update on the audition, one from Andres’s phone (but really it was Tilly again), and one from Lanz. I read Lanz’s last.
My hand trembled as I stared at the screen, my heart lifted by his words. Then my phone vibrated, making me jump. There it was. A text from Ethan:
I pictured him hanging out with his Invention Convention buds, toasting their victories over slices of supreme pizza (his favorite). Even after my great audition, I wasn’t in the mood for that. But this wasn’t anger. It was the gnawing feeling of something shifting inside me, of some of the expectations that I’d had about Ethan and me blurring with confusion and doubt.
It was a simple text, but it felt like the beginning of something immense.
I had just gotten to school the next morning when it happened. As I stood at my locker with Tilly and Andres, my cell vibrated with an email. I knew it would be from the conservatory. I managed a weak “It’s here” to Tilly, who promptly made a grab for my phone, which I swept out of her reach.
“Let me see.” Tilly jumped up and down.
“Just … give me a sec.” I leaned against my locker, clutching the phone to my chest. Since yesterday, waiting had been excruciating. Of course, Mom had had no idea why I was so on edge.
“What’s gotten into you?” she’d asked last night, when I’d kicked the door of the deep freeze for not opening on the first try. “Is something wrong at school?”
I couldn’t tell her, but the guilt of keeping the secret from her only added to my moodiness.
Now I closed my eyes. I’ll be happy with any part, I told myself. Any part at all.
Holding my breath, I opened the email. I had to reread it twice before the words sank in:
Dear Ms. Analu,
It is with great pleasure we offer you the principal role of Cinderella in our June 1 performance. Daily rehearsals will be held 4–6 p.m., Mon–Sat. Attendance is mandatory …
“I’m in,” I whispered as Tilly and Andres, who’d been reading over my shoulder, whooped and grabbed me in a crushing hug. “I’m in!” I laugh-shrieked.
“Not just in.” Tilly squeezed my hands. “You’re Cinderella!” She stepped into the middle of the hallway and yelled, “Attention, peeps! My best friend is going to be a famous ballet dancer someday. So you better be picking up your trash, or she’ll tell the world that global warming’s all your fault.” A few kids slowed as they passed her, and she raised a threatening eyebrow at them. “That’s right. You heard me.” She turned to me. “I need to post this on my blog! We could do a role-model spin on you, talk about your conservation efforts …”
I yanked Tilly back toward my locker, giggling. “Famous is a teensy bit premature, Till. But thanks for the love …”
My voice died as I saw Violet walking in our direction, her lips in a composed smile.
“Malie.” Her arms went around me in a barely there hug. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
She held me at arm’s length, as if she were an adult appraising a child. “I didn’t know you had it in you. Cinderella! I cannot believe it!”
“Me neither.” I fidgeted with my schoolbag as an awkward silence settled between us. “So … what part did you get?”
“I’ll be Fairy Godmother.” Her careful smile quivered. “And they’ve told me I’ll be your sub for the part of Cinderella.” She waved a hand. “They always have to assign substitutes, because … well, you never know, do you?” She glanced down at the floor. “This is the first year I won’t be dancing as principal.”
“I know. I’m—I hope you’re not too disappointed?” I would’ve been, if I’d been in her position, and that made me feel a twinge of guilt, even through my excitement.
Her lips quivered faster, but she shrugged. “I’ve had plenty of chances in the spotlight. It’s only fair to give somebody else a shot. And anyway, I have a long dancing life ahead of me.”
“That’s a great way to look at it. It’ll be fun to work together. You’ll be a terrific Fairy Godmother.”
She tilted her head at me. “Aw. That’s sweet of you.” She gave me one more smile, then said, “I better go. You’ll want to spread the news.” She gestured to my cell phone. “I’ll bet your mom is going to be speechless!”
She breezed down the hallway as my stomach hardened into a boulder of dread.
“My mom.” I gave Tilly a pleading look. “How am I going to tell her?”
Tilly rolled her eyes. “Open mouth. Words pour out. Simple. I mean, no school project goes on for this long. I’m surprised she hasn’t caught on already.”
“We’ve been so busy at the parlor …” I sighed, thinking about all the ways the conversation with Mom could go so wrong. “She won’t be happy I lied. Or that rehearsals will take up so much time.”
“Mal.” Tilly’s gaze was stern.
“Okay, okay. I’ll tell her. Only … not yet. I’ll start rehearsals, get a good feel for the routines, and then I’ll tell her.” Suddenly, I wanted desperately to change the subject, and then I had the way to do it. “Ethan!” I blurted out. “I’ve got to tell Ethan!”
I took off at a jog toward the science lab, leaving Tilly and Andres staring after me.
I was about to burst into the science lab, but I saw something through the door’s window that stopped me.
Ethan and Eve were bent over a beaker, deep in conversation about whatever they were witnessing in a frothing blue substance. Ethan grazed Eve’s hand with his fingertips. It could’ve been that he was showing her how to measure some of the powder she was holding, or it could’ve been flirting. It definitely had a flirting look to it, and yet they both seemed innocently oblivious.
I blushed, feeling like a spy. Could I be angry at Ethan for something he didn’t realize he was doing? Did I even feel angry? Or was I simply surprised? I hardly knew. I stood frozen for a few seconds more until Greg, another kid in the science club, brushed past me into the room. He dropped his backpack onto a desk with a clang, making Ethan and Eve jump. When they caught sight of me standing in the doorway, they stepped apart instantly.
Eve gave me an embarrassed smile. “Malie! Hey!”
Ethan walked toward me, his face cranberry. “Hey, you.” He gave a backward glance
to Eve, then mumbled, “We were finishing up an experiment.”
I nodded, deciding not to overthink what I’d just seen. I could’ve imagined it, and besides, Ethan wouldn’t ever intentionally do anything to hurt me. And Eve had Lanz now. At least, I thought she did. My stomach twisted, but I shook the feeling away. This was a good day. A great day. I wasn’t about to psychoanalyze it into ruins.
Which was what made me announce “I’m Cinderella!” a little too loudly, causing everyone in the lab to stare. “In the conservatory’s ballet,” I added, more softly this time. “I just found out!”
“Mal, that’s awesome!” Ethan grinned. “I knew you’d get in!” He stepped closer to hug me, but then hesitated awkwardly, as if he was worried about others seeing. When his arms finally wrapped around me, they rested lightly on my shoulders—the most platonic hug he’d ever given me.
“Thanks.” I smiled, even though his congratulations felt a little like a letdown. “I have a lot of work to do. The ballet’s June first. A month away.”
Ethan frowned. “The first? Oh no.” He rubbed his forehead. “That’s the weekend of the National Invention Convention. In DC.”
“Oh.” The bubble of happiness inside me wobbled, threatening to pop. “You promised you’d come.”
His face was pained. “I had no idea that the national convention would be that weekend, and I … I …” He glanced at his feet, looking so torn that I reached for his hand.
“You have to go,” I said matter-of-factly. This was what we’d always told each other, that we’d never stand in each other’s way. “You can’t miss the chance.”
Relief crossed his face. “Thanks for seeing that. This is huge for me. It’s everything, really.”
Everything. I paused over that word. If it was everything, then that made me … what? A lump of hurt formed at the back of my throat, and my vow to be understanding was forgotten. “You don’t have to look so happy about it,” I snapped. Then, when I felt Eve’s eyes on me, I spun around and hurried into the hallway.
“Mal, wait!” Ethan caught up to me. “What just happened? You said a second ago that I had to go—”
“I know I did!” I blew out a breath. “That’s what I’m supposed to say. But I thought … that you’d be more upset about missing my performance. Why are you so detached? Shouldn’t I matter more to you than that?”
“You matter to me. You know that.” His gaze was sincere, making my heart crumple.
“I do. But maybe not the way I should matter to you.” I swallowed. The niggling fears that had been building inside me over the last few weeks burbled to the surface now. “Ethan. Do you ever wonder if we’re too right for each other? So right that we’re, I don’t know, missing something?”
His brow furrowed. “What are you saying? That you’re not happy with this anymore? With … us?”
My face was burning. “I … I don’t know. I want to think about this—”
“Ethan?” Eve stuck her head around the door. “The bell’s about to ring and we’ve got to clean up.”
“Be there in a sec,” he said, then refocused on me. “Mal, if you’re saying we should break up—”
“How upset would you be if we did break up? Honestly?” I held his gaze until he dropped his eyes in silence. “We’re friends. We’ve always been friends. But friendship isn’t the same as dating. Maybe … maybe we both need to think about that for a while. On our own.”
He opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again. His expression was a maelstrom of frustration and confusion, but he didn’t look hurt. When he spoke again, it was a quiet, “Then what?”
I offered him a small smile and a shrug. “Then … we see where we are. Okay?”
He peered into my eyes for a long minute, then returned my smile with one of his own. “Okay.”
I nodded toward the science lab. “Eve needs your help. I’ll … call you?”
He gave me a final nod, then disappeared through the door. I headed down the hallway, a bittersweet melancholy settling over me. Had I done the right thing? More important, did I have any idea what I was doing anymore?
I flung back my comforter and sat up, checking the time. Twelve a.m. I’d been tossing and turning. I should’ve been dreaming of grand-jeté-ing across the stage in Cinderella but instead I was wrestling with a building anxiety. It had taken about a nanosecond for Tilly and Andres to find out about the “talk” Ethan and I had had, and my phone had been buzzing with texts from Tilly all night. I hadn’t responded to a single one. I wasn’t ready to hear her opinions yet.
I slid open my window, hoping an ocean breeze might lighten the humidity in my bedroom. A full moon blazed in the sky, and as I peered past palm trees toward the water, I saw a familiar ethereal glow along the horizon. My spirits lifted. Was that what I thought it was? It was the right time of year for it. I slipped out of bed and changed from my pj’s into shorts and a T-shirt. I left a note for Mom so she’d know where I was, then grabbed my cell.
My fingers hesitated over the screen. There was only one person I wanted to share this with. A week ago, even two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about texting him, but now? Everything was more complicated. Still, I hadn’t seen him since I’d gotten the news about Cinderella and, well, I missed him. Pushing all thoughts of how distant he’d seemed lately aside, I texted Lanz:
I held my breath until a text came back a moment later.
I smiled.
I laughed, relieved to hear him sounding more like himself.
Ten minutes later, Lanz found me sitting in the sand by my kayak (last year’s birthday gift from Dad), two life jackets beside me. His hair was tousled from sleep, and his mischievous smile shone in the moonlight.
“Here I am.” He bowed playfully. “At your bidding. What are my orders, capitano?”
“Safety first.” I tossed him a life jacket. Once we both had the life jackets on, we dragged the kayak toward the water. I tried not to giggle as Lanz struggled to balance himself on the kayak’s seat.
“What? Am I not an expert sailor?” He pushed out his chest in mock-pride, and almost tipped over backward into the waves.
I shook my head between laughs, then pushed the kayak over the cresting waves and climbed in to face him. I picked up my paddle, but hesitated before handing him his. “I’m not sure I can trust you with a paddle.”
He inspected it. “If I can master the gelato paddle, I can master this one, too. Besides, I could never let anything happen to Cinderella.” He winked.
“So you know I got the part.” We paddled farther from shore into the gentle swells. He hadn’t been at Once upon a Scoop (Mom told me he’d asked for the afternoon off), and I hadn’t wanted to text him. It was the sort of great news you only wanted to share face-to-face.
He nodded. “Eve told me. I saw her after school today.”
“Oh.” So he’d spent his afternoon with Eve instead of at Once upon a Scoop. “You two seem to get along well.”
He nodded. “She’s very nice.”
“And …” I swallowed. Suddenly, I was wishing I’d never texted him to meet me here. “You—you like her?”
He shrugged. “Of course I do! What’s not to like?”
I turned my gaze to the shore, wondering if I could turn the kayak around. I could tell him I wasn’t feeling well, or that I was tired … I just didn’t want to be here, in this tiny boat, with nowhere to hide my emotions.
“Well.” Lanz scanned the water. “I don’t see any weremaids.” He leaned toward me. “Are you going to let me in on your secret?”
“What?” I startled at the question. What if he already knew? Knew how every time I was around him, he turned my world topsy-turvy?
He laughed. “Malie. Are you going to tell me why we’re out here? Rowing through the ocean in the middle of the night?”
“Oh. Right.” That was what he’d meant. I turned my attention to the water. “Give me a second.” The tide was calm, quieter than usual, and the moonlight gli
ttered on the water. About twenty feet to our left, an ethereal blue light shimmered beneath the surface. “There!” I pointed to the spot, then motioned for him to row in that direction. Within a minute, we were directly above the glowing water.
Below us, thousands of comb jellies glowed greenish blue, floating gracefully in an underwater light show.
“This is incredible!” he whispered.
“It’s bioluminescence,” I said. “The comb jellies are only here at certain times of the year. Dad used to bring me out to see them before he moved. Last year he gave me the kayak so I could keep up the tradition. The cove’s protected by the breakers, so the current’s never strong. Otherwise Mom would never let me come out here on my own.”
“Thank you for bringing me here,” Lanz said, looking at me.
“I wanted to show you this to thank you.” I kept my eyes on the water to avoid getting lost in his eyes. “You’re the reason I’m in Cinderella.”
He shook his head. “I only introduced you to my mother. Everything that happened after that was your doing. Your talent.” He smiled, and the flickering lights from the water reflected on his face. “Mammina doesn’t believe in favoritism. Not even for my friends.”
Friends. That was all we would ever be, and I needed to be okay with it. For the sake of self-preservation, for the sake of Ethan. And Eve. For everyone.
Lanz dipped his paddle gently into the water, causing the jellies to ripple around it in unison, creating one fluttering blanket of blue.
“They look like dancers,” Lanz said. “In an underwater ballet.”
I nodded. “That’s exactly what I used to tell Dad. It’s like they choreographed their movements.”
“Or not.” Lanz shrugged. “Maybe they just … connect. No planning, no practice. Impulsive.” His expression was serious, his eyes intent on my face.
A tingle ran up my spine. I had to look away, or else, or else … “It’s so late. Or … early, I guess. We should get back to shore.”
Sundae My Prince Will Come Page 10
