by Megan Atwood
It just couldn’t be. Devon was hers and hers alone. How did Jordan even know his name? Ophelia would ask him that night. He would have to answer her then.
She set her alarm for eleven thirty and slept.
When the alarm went off, Ophelia sat up groggily and checked the clock. Adrenaline coursed through her. It was time to meet Devon. Butterflies danced in her stomach as she thought about her questions. But it was time. She had to know if what Jordan said was true.
She put on her dance clothes, feeling like an old woman. In the mirror, her hair was lank and lifeless. Her eyes were dark and sunken in. Her cheekbones looked like they could cut glass.
Kayley was right: Ophelia did look like death.
She walked up to the studio and made it there by ten to midnight, but she just didn’t have the energy to dance.
Ophelia stretched halfheartedly, and at twelve, she turned to the center of the room, determined to see Devon come in.
His voice came from a dark corner of the room: “My Giselle.”
She turned slowly around to look at him. His pale eyes beckoned her, and before she could utter a word, he brought her toward him.
They began to dance.
After about five minutes, Ophelia knew something was wrong. She could barely stand up.
Stars danced before her eyes. Her breath came out short and panicky. She tried to get Devon to stop, but he kept whirling her around. Finally, she broke away.
“Did you dance with Jordan Johnson too? With other girls?”
He smiled an indulgent smile and said, “I am always here for you. When you dance Giselle on the stage, I will be there for you too. We will be together, always.”
Ophelia shook her head. She felt foggy and disconnected. “Jordan Johnson said you tried to kill her.”
His once-sweet face contorted in anger. “How dare you question me!”
He grabbed her, then pushed her away. Ophelia had no strength left. She landed on the floor buttfirst, head snapping against the wood.
The lights in the studio snapped on.
Someone grabbed Ophelia’s shoulders, and she tried to back up, scared that Devon was going to hurt her.
Kayley’s face came into focus. “Ophelia! Ophelia, are you all right?”
Ophelia blinked rapidly, trying to get her bearings. “Devon?” she said, worried he’d left.
The faces of Madeleine, Sophie, and Emma came into view behind Kayley’s.
“Devon?” Madeleine said. “Who’s Devon?”
Kayley frowned and looked at Ophelia. “Devon is the one who tried to kill Jordan Johnson.”
With that, Ophelia passed out.
Chapter 13
For the second time in two weeks, Ophelia woke up in the nurse’s office. This time, though, she woke up to the faces of her friends.
“Nurse John,” Kayley said, “she’s awake.”
Nurse John came into focus and said, “Ophelia, you passed out again.”
Ophelia tried to croak, “Duh.” But it just came out as a grunt.
The nurse patted her arm. “You just rest here. Your friends are going to look after you.”
After he left, Ophelia found it hard to look at her friends. Silence overtook them, and no one moved.
Kayley was the first one to speak. “How do you feel?” she asked, putting her hand on Ophelia’s arm. Tears came to Kayley’s eyes.
Ophelia laughed a shaky laugh. “Like crap.” She added, “What happened? … I don’t know what’s been happening.”
Madeleine nodded and went to the other side of the bed, putting her hand on Ophelia’s arm.
“You aren’t getting enough nutrients, so they’re giving you dextrose,” Madeleine said. “Your electrolytes are off. Your heart rate’s messed up too.”
“That’s the short version,” Kayley said.
“You came close to, well … being really sick,” Emma added.
Ophelia closed her eyes and let tears spill. She didn’t open them when she murmured Devon’s name.
When Ophelia did look up, Kayley stared down at her with compassion. “I overheard your conversation with Jordan Johnson. I heard about the diary. So we went and found it, in Madame Puant’s office. It’s super old-looking all right.” Kayley held the diary toward Ophelia. “Don’t even ask me how we snuck in there. Do you want to read it?”
Ophelia did and didn’t. She couldn’t bear the thought of Devon being with anyone else. She wouldn’t believe that she was just another victim in a long line of victims. Or that Devon would hurt her in any way. But she remembered his look of anger and the way he shoved her. She swallowed hard and took the diary, opening it to the first page:
My friends are acting strange, and I know it is because they are jealous. The only thing that gives me comfort right now is Devon. Dancing with him makes the whole world disappear. I find that I long for him every single night—I wait with bated breath to be reunited with him. He feeds my soul like nothing else can. I needn’t eat nor sleep, for Devon is my nourishment. Those around me only serve as distractions, and they will never understand this need I have for him, this yearning that consumes me.
Ophelia closed it with a hard thunk. The words were the same ones she had written in her own diary. Exactly the same. And she’d bet that the rest of the diary was at least as similar.
Her friends gathered around her and hugged her.
After a few minutes, Ophelia pushed them away and sniffled, reaching for a Kleenex. The rest of them reached for one too, and the five of them laughed together, a long, hard laugh. Ophelia realized it was the first time she’d laughed in ages.
It felt good.
When they finally stopped, she said, “You guys, I don’t know what happened. I feel so … out of control.”
She wiped her eyes impatiently. “It’s just, no one makes me feel like he does. And I got so wrapped up in everything, I didn’t even …” Ophelia sobbed again. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been so awful to all of you! I don’t know how to let him go.”
She told all of them the whole story. Every single bit. And for the first time in a long time, Ophelia felt light. She no longer had a secret, no longer had to sneak around. She was desperately afraid of losing Devon, but she knew that he wasn’t good for her. She knew there was something up with him. And the only way to combat that was to get her friends involved.
If she had learned one thing at Dario Quincy Academy, it was that friendship trumped any curse.
When she was done telling the story, Kayley twisted her lips in thought. “We need to figure out a way to get him. But, Ophelia … I don’t think you should see him again. We’ll all work together to find a way. Deal?”
Ophelia nodded her head slowly. “OK. But I will probably need to stay in someone else’s room at night.” She looked away guiltily.
Madeleine nodded. “Done. We have four nights until the performance, and you have four friends,” she said. “It seems like we’ll have just the right amount of time and people to figure this out.”
“Thanks, you guys.” She looked at each of the girls with complete sincerity. “You saved my life.”
Chapter 14
“If we could just get Ms. Johnson’s number, Madame.” Madeleine blinked innocently.
Madame stared at her suspiciously. “Now what is this for? A class assignment on past ballet students?”
“Uh, yeah. For civics.”
Kayley elbowed Madeleine in the ribs. Madeleine added quickly, “I mean history.”
“Mm-hmm.” Madame tapped her pencil on her desk. “And, Ophelia? You are well enough to complete homework assignments?”
Ophelia sank down in her chair. She’d skipped so many ballet practices, she thought for sure Madame would kick her out of the program. She’d even been hesitant to come to Madame’s office. But she didn’t want her friends doing anything that would get them in trouble—not without her, anyway.
She cleared her throat. “I’m feeling much better, Madame. In fact, I feel well enough to
rehearse for the rest of the week before the performance. And speaking of Giselle, we saw you speaking to Ms. Johnson the other day while we were rehearsing. That’s what made us think about her for this interview. It would be especially interesting because of her relationship to this academy.” Ophelia looked directly in Madame’s eyes. “And she might have a lot to say about the school and all the … interesting things that have happened here.”
Madame’s mouth turned up in a tiny smile before she became serious again.
“You know, that might be just the thing. If it’s one thing I can’t abide in this school, it’s secrets. That and rumors. Unacceptable.”
She stood next to Ophelia, putting her hand on her arm. “When we bring things out into the light, then we take away their power.”
For some reason, tears came to Ophelia’s eyes again. She felt like Madame saw and knew everything.
“Keep strong for the performance,” Madame said. “But if there’s a single hint that you are not well enough to do Giselle, the performance is canceled. You’ve already had one close call.”
Madame sat down at the desk and scribbled something on a piece of paper. “Now, normally, I’m not in the habit of giving out the numbers of our board members. But for this, I’ll make an exception.”
She handed the number to Kayley and said, “As long as you girls work together, this will all be all right.” She gave a slight wink that could have been easily overlooked. “Work together within the bounds of the assignment, of course. Now, carry on.”
She looked down at her desk in a clear dismissal of the girls. As they walked out, she added, “Call from a school phone, please, not a cell phone. And I expect you’ll be burning that number after you use it.”
After two hours and lots of pacing, Ophelia finally found the courage to call Jordan. When she picked up the phone, Kayley threw her hands in the air. “It’s about time!”
Ophelia bit her lip and dialed. On the third ring, Jordan picked up.
“Hello? This is Jordan.”
Ophelia swallowed. “Jordan, this is Ophelia.”
Silence greeted her at the other end. After a few seconds, Jordan spoke warmly. “Ophelia. I’m so glad you called. I know that took a lot of courage.”
Ophelia nodded and then felt ridiculous because she was on the phone. She said, “Jordan, I read your diary and … I know about Devon. Or at least, I know what he’s trying to do. He tried to kill you, didn’t he?”
“Yes. He did. He had killed at least two others before me.”
“How? How did he try to kill you?”
Kayley, Emma, Sophie, and Madeleine crowded around the phone. Ophelia elbowed them to get some air.
“He starts by making you feel special,” Jordan began. “By making you feel you’re the only one on the floor. The only one who can be his partner. But he sucks the life force out of you.
“I was the lucky one. My father saw what was happening to me in time. He pulled me out of the school and put me into therapy and a program. By that time, I could barely stand up. Those before me weren’t so lucky.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ophelia said. She knew exactly how Jordan felt. “I dance Giselle this Saturday. What do I do to stop him?”
There was silence again on the other line. “You can’t dance it. He’ll kill you.”
Frustrated, Ophelia said, “Well, how do I stop him?”
Jordan laughed. “You don’t! You just don’t dance it. You know Giselle’s death scene? The dance that has all that footwork and all the leaps? That’s when his victims died. You can’t dance Giselle, Ophelia. It will kill you.”
Ophelia thought about that for a moment. “Thank you for your time, Jordan. You really helped me.”
“Ophelia, I’m truly sorry,” Jordan said. “This isn’t something anyone should have to go through.”
Ophelia hung up. Madeleine patted her shoulder. “I’m so sorry you can’t dance Giselle, honey.”
Ophelia laughed. “Oh, I’m dancing Giselle.”
The other girls said in unison, “What?!”
Ophelia laughed again, feeling giddy. “Yes, I’m dancing Giselle.” She grabbed a granola bar, taking a huge bite out of it. “I’ll be damned if I’m letting some stupid ghost boy stop me from living my dream.”
Chapter 15
Ophelia felt strong. She felt the music flow all through her veins, felt it almost take her over. Almost.
She was herself now. And she was waiting for Devon to show up.
The performance was going to start in twenty minutes. She looked at Madeleine, Kayley, Emma, and Sophie, all of them nervous and shaky. Ophelia jumped up and down to get the blood flowing. She’d had a huge dinner earlier to make sure she had enough fuel for the performance. She peeked out from behind the curtain and saw Jordan Johnson and her father in the red velvet boxes that sat above the crowd. Ophelia could see they were nervous. Jordan kept wringing her hands, and John Johnson III bounced his knee.
A hand drew her back and she jumped.
It was Madame. Her face was pinched, and she beckoned Ophelia to follow her.
They went backstage, and the sounds of the orchestra warming up faded in the background.
Ophelia leaned against a cardboard house used for the second act and looked at Madame curiously. Madame took Ophelia’s face in her hands. The move was so surprising, Ophelia had no words.
“Ophelia, you will tell me if this ballet is too much?” Madame said. “You will not go on if you think you’ll get hurt, yes?”
Ophelia felt a lump in her throat. “I would tell you,” she said. But a wave of doubt hit her.
“Ophelia. I know that whatever it is you fight tonight, you will win. I have full faith in you. And we are all here for you. Always.”
Tears threatened Ophelia’s eyes. She managed to say, “Thank you, Madame.” Madame nodded and walked away.
Ophelia took a deep breath and said quietly, “I’m worried too, Madame.”
She stepped back toward the staging area and the strains of the orchestra coming together. Someone yelled out the fifteen-minute mark, and Ophelia found Madeleine, Kayley, Emma, and Sophie.
The five girls grabbed each other’s hands and formed a circle. Ophelia whispered, “Whatever happens tonight, you did everything you could.”
Kayley huffed in anger. “You still don’t have to dance this! Can I just say again, I think this is stupid? It’s just a stupid ballet, Ophelia. It’s not worth your life!”
Some other dancers looked over at them curiously.
Ophelia squeezed Kayley’s hand. “I don’t know how I know, but I do. If I don’t face this now, it will haunt me forever. He will haunt me forever. Jordan isn’t over him. I heard it in her voice. And I don’t want to be like that. I think tonight is my night to break free. And I have to do it alone.”
Sophie shook her head. “Not alone. We’re here.”
Ophelia smiled. “Yes. You’re here. And after this ballet, I’ll be here too.” She squeezed their hands, and the stage manager called places.
Ophelia took her spot and prepared to dance for her life.
Chapter 16
After the first few scenes, Ophelia felt wonderful. She felt in control of the dance for the first time, felt the beauty of the movements and the heartbreak of the story. She felt everything she was supposed to. But Giselle’s death was coming up, and she couldn’t deny that she felt nervous.
And then she saw him. He was across the stage from her, staring at her with those beautiful pale eyes. She could almost smell him from where she stood: right by Madeleine, who didn’t seem to see him. She noticed Madeleine looking her way and gave her the thumbs-up. Ophelia gave a halfhearted wave back.
Was she the only one who could see Devon?
The music that signaled Giselle’s entrance to the death scene began to play. Across the stage, Kayley, Emma, and Sophie had joined Madeleine, none of them seeing the agent of death right next to them. They held each other’s hands, staring at Ophelia with
worried eyes.
When her time came to go onstage, Ophelia prepared for the battle of her life.
She entered on scene and sure enough, Devon came too, dancing with her for each step. She could smell his dusty scent, the woodsy, spicy smell that overtook her. Her eyes fluttered, she melted into him. She could feel like this forever.
He whispered to her: “Giselle. My Giselle.”
She turned away. “I am not your Giselle.”
When she pirouetted around, he was in front of her again. He grabbed on to her waist and held her close. It would be so easy to just give in. Just to let him have her so that she could feel this way forever; warm, comforted, perfect.
She glanced at the side of the stage and saw her friends standing there. They were still holding hands, worried expressions still on their faces. She knew that each one of them also held her right then, held her in their hearts. She knew they couldn’t see Devon, and even if they could, they wouldn’t be able to see what made him so irresistible. She loved them, she did. But maybe she loved Devon more.
He spoke softly in her ear: “It’s time. Come to me, Giselle. Come to me forever.”
Ophelia felt her heart flutter. Felt the beats slow as she danced. Felt her vision blacken. And she knew.
This was dying.
She was performing Giselle’s last steps. She was Giselle. And she would die in this scene. She felt light and airy, felt like she could evaporate and it would be all right. It would be peaceful.
She saw a glimpse of Madame in the wings, saw tears running down her face. She thought about her friends and her family, about dance and her studies, about laughter and life. She thought about cold winter days and creepy hallways and springtime and lakes and sunlight.
And her eyes sprang open.
Tonight was not the night. It was not time. Tonight, Giselle would live.
She began to dance other steps. Steps that bounced. Steps and moves that put her firmly on the earth.
“What are you doing?!” Devon hissed at her. His face, once beautiful, looked grotesque.
All she could do was laugh. With each step, she felt her heartbeat grow stronger.
