Face to Face (On Pointe Book 3)

by Penelope Freed

  “It sounds awful, Coley. But can’t you just play and ignore them? There must be one or two guys on the team who aren’t like that?” I have no idea. We went to as many of Cole’s basketball games as we could last season, but you don’t know what a person is like just from watching them play. There was a lot of what looked like friendly shoving between teammates though.

  Cole’s shrug tickles my cheek. “Not really. They’re my teammates, Bug. It’s supposed to feel like we would do anything for each other, that’s how a team should be. But I swear, every time I turn around one of them is in my face, wanting to get the ruler out. It’s not that I don’t want to have fun, I totally do, but maybe I was spoiled by all our years of having everyone always coming here, going to other people’s places to party is so tiring, god, they are so loud and obnoxious.”

  That has me laughing. “Seriously? Do you not know how loud and obnoxious your entourages have always been? Why do you think I always tried to sneak downstairs to see what was happening? There is no way to drown it out in my room and do anything else.” I pull away from Cole and poke him in the chest. “There must be one or two guys you can stand?”

  “There are a couple of guys who I think…” Cole trails off. “But Marcus lives with them, so it doesn’t matter.”

  “Who’s Marcus? And why does it matter that he lives with them?”

  “Marcus Church, our team captain. It matters because he’s the worst of everyone. He’s like a fucking cartoon villain—has a new girl every night, never even knows their names, barely goes to class, always has to be tough, will jump on you the second you show weakness. Total homophobe. God, I hate him.” Cole’s hands fist and clench as if by reflex at the sound of this Marcus’ name.

  If the fists weren’t a giveaway for Cole’s feelings, the clenched jaw and hard look in his eyes would be. “Did he…” I swallow, not wanting to make Cole feel worse, but curious. “Did he do something in particular to you?”

  Dark eyes snapping to meet mine, I know I’ve hit the sore spot. Dislodging me, Cole hops up and starts walking away. Scrambling to my feet, my own worries gone, I follow. “Cole?”

  “Bug…” He stops with a jerk, like he’s hit a wall. I do hit the wall of his back, with an “oof” before stepping back. Whirling to face me, Cole wraps me up in his arms and the words tumble out of him, like he can’t keep the words inside any longer, but he can’t look at me while he says them either.

  “There was a guy on the team my freshman year, Henry. He was great. He didn’t party, didn’t tolerate the ball bunnies, he was so chill, you know? An all-around cool dude. He was the captain, actually, and he was good at it. We started hanging out and got to be good friends, best friends even. I liked him.” Cole’s shrug trembles against me, all I can do is squeeze him back. “Turns out he…liked me too.”

  “Did you…” I have to stop and think about how I want to ask this. “Did you…?” My already frazzled brain can’t come up with the words I need.

  “Did I like him in that way?” Cole supplies the words for me. At my nod, he sighs sadly and keeps talking. “Not at first. But I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him as my best friend. So, we stayed friends. He was super respectful and never made me feel uncomfortable or anything, just kept being my best friend. And I don’t know, by the end of the year he was…my Henry.” The shift in Cole’s body language is subtle, but hugging him like this makes it easy to feel the way he stands a little straighter, less defeated at the mention of Henry’s name. “Going from loving him as my best friend to loving him completely was as easy as breathing.”

  Was? I don’t like the way Cole keeps saying his name in past tense. I pull back far enough to look up and see the far-away look in my brother’s eyes. “Neither of us wanted to broadcast our relationship to the rest of the world. Henry’s family is super conservative and he knew they’d never accept him.”

  “But Cole, why didn’t you tell us?” I have to interrupt, not wanting him to think for a second that any of us would love him less no matter who he loved. “You know Mom and Dad wouldn’t care, we’d all have your back.”

  “I know, Bug. I wanted to tell you guys, but Henry asked me not to because he couldn’t come out to his family. And I would have done anything for him.” He’s still talking about Henry in the past tense and it’s starting to worry me. “Marcus was his roommate. The night before school started last year, we thought he’d be gone all night—he’d been bragging about the chick he was going to bag at this fraternity party—but he came home early and, well, caught us making out on the couch.” With a jerk, Cole lets go of me and walks away, scraping his fingers through his dark hair. I let him walk away, sure he’ll come back in a moment. He gets to the corner of the pool and turns to pace towards me, the hurt and anguish on his face breaking my heart.

  “Cole…what happened?” I ask quietly, scared of the answer.

  “The asshole starts yelling and screaming about how he won’t live with Henry, won’t play with either of us, called us every slur you can think of plus more I won’t repeat. It was ugly, Bug.” I want to hug him again but he stalks away from me, so I wait until he comes back.

  “Anyway, the fucker goes to Coach and rats us out. Henry gets called into Coach’s office after practice the next day. Next thing we know, Henry isn’t team captain anymore, Marcus is.”

  “But that’s discrimination, he can’t do that!” I growl, incensed. “There’s no way that’s legal, Cole.”

  “It’s our word against Coach and Marcus. There’s no way to prove it. Henry told me afterwards that Coach never said a word about being gay, just that he didn’t feel that Henry was capable of ‘uniting’ the team, that he would be divisive, so that’s why the captaincy was being taken away.” Cole shrugs and somehow I can tell that this isn’t even the worst part. I still haven’t figured out why Henry is past tense.

  “What else happened, Cole?”

  “Someone told Henry’s parents.” Cole keeps talking over my gasp. “They disowned him. Kicked him out and refused to pay for anything. Not a cent. He had to drop out of school.”

  “And…”

  “And he left me. Told me I was better off without him, that he was going to bring me more trouble.” Cole’s voice cracks on the last word. Rushing in, I wrap myself around him as much as I can. My own worries and confusion are forgotten as he cries against my shoulder.

  I know I’m only the baby, that I can’t do much more than hold on tight, but I will hold onto my brother with everything in me to keep him from cracking apart.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hannah

  Don’t cry.

  Don’t cry.

  Don’t cry.

  Lisa’s hand rubbing up and down my back is nowhere near as calming as my mom’s, but I’m glad she’s here. The therapist is prodding at my ankle, her fingers searching for any tenderness while her eyes are trained on me, looking for a telltale wince. She keeps poking at me, shifting her hands around my foot and ankle. I fight to keep my face calm and not flinch, scared it’s going to hurt each time she presses hard.

  None of the spots she presses on the inside of my ankle hurt, there’s no pain at all. But when she puts pressure on a spot to the outside of my ankle, right above where my pointe shoe ribbons would wrap around it, I can’t stop the hiss of pain that escapes me.

  “I take it that spot is tender?” she asks. “What about here?” She presses around the spot, feeling for something and helping me identify how large an area is sore. “Well, young lady, I think we need to get an x-ray, to be safe, but at the very least you’re going to have to rest it for a few days. I’m going to arrange with the director to get you the x-ray, but I want you off it for the rest of the weekend, okay?”

  “Do you know what it could be?” I ask, my voice wavering.

  “Sweetie, I’m not allowed to give you a diagnosis. There are a couple of things it could be
, but that tender spot is what’s making me cautious. Let’s get the x-ray and go from there.” I know she’s trying to be reassuring but her words aren’t doing anything to ease the knot of worry in my gut. “Wait here for a minute while I go get some tape for it.” She pats my knee before walking away to rummage in a drawer.

  Turning to Lisa, I give her my best smile. “You should go to class, you can still make it if you hurry.” We’d headed for the physical therapist’s office instead of going to breakfast. Since it’s Saturday, our morning classes start at ten instead of nine, which was very helpful for us.

  “Are you sure? I can stay and go with you to the x-ray?” Lisa bites her lip. “I don’t want you going alone.”

  “No way, you worked too hard to get permission to come. I’m not making you skip a class to come sit in a waiting room. I’ll text Trevor, he should be done soon, he can come with me.” Thank goodness his camp only makes them do a short workout on Saturday mornings, he’ll be free the rest of the day.

  “Are you sure? I don’t mind?”

  The therapist speaks up from the corner. “Hannah won’t be alone, I’ll be going with her.”

  “See? I’ll be fine. Now go. Hurry up or you’ll be late,” I add, pushing her towards the door.

  “Text Trevor,” Lisa says as she backs out the door, worry written all over her face. I waggle my phone at her so she leaves.

  “Is Trevor a friend?” the therapist asks, coming back to sit on the low stool in front of me, two rolls of tape in her hands.

  “My boyfriend,” I explain, watching as she pulls a long strip of white tape free of the roll. “I thought you’d wrap it?”

  “Tape will do for now, love. Besides, someone used the last Ace bandage and didn’t replace it.” Her casual answer eases a bit of the fear in my chest. Maybe it’s not as bad as I thought? “We’ll know more once we get the x-rays done. I’m going to go make the phone calls needed. Can you get in touch with your parents for me, please? I need their permission to take you off-campus. Have them call me at this number.” She hands me a business card before crossing the room and slipping out the door.

  I waffle between texting my parents and looking around the room. We’re tucked in the corner of a small gym, a row of cabinets blocking off space for a patient table and her stool, giving us the illusion of privacy. There’s a treadmill, a stationary bike, and some free weights along one wall, mirrors along the second and some serious-looking equipment that I’ve never seen before along the third. A huge rack next to the weights has yoga balls and half balls balanced on it.

  I know I’m stalling. I’m terrified of what happens next. The therapist is being so vague, I wish she’d tell me what she thinks is wrong. I wanted to prove to my parents that I was old enough, tough enough, to be out here on my own so I haven’t told them anything about my ankle. But I can’t put it off any longer. I pull out my phone and start typing.

  Me: Hey. So, I’ve been having some pain in my ankle and the physical therapist here wants to take me to get it x-rayed. Can you please call her at this number?

  I type in the number and wait for their response. My phone rings almost immediately.

  “Sweetie?” My mom’s voice in my ear has my throat closing up. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” Swallowing hard, I will myself not to cry.

  “So, I’ve been having some ankle pain off and on. It got bad last night so Lisa and Ms. Parker made me promise to come see the physical therapist here. She wants me to get an x-ray but needs your permission to take me off campus,” I blurt out in a rush, trying to get all the words out before I can cry.

  “Are you in pain?” My dad’s worried voice has tears pricking my eyes but I swallow them down so I can keep talking.

  “Not all the time, it’s taped for now. It was just kind of achy, it didn’t seem like a big deal which is why I didn’t say anything before.”

  “So what happened?” My mom always knows when I’m hiding something.

  “It started hurting a lot more once I was rehearsing for Black Swan. Last night it was the worst it’s ever been, so now here I am.” As I finish explaining, the therapist comes back into the room. “The physical therapist is here, do you want to talk to her?” I look up at her to see what she wants to do.

  “Can you have them call that number for me, love? I need it to go through the official channels.”

  I repeat her instructions to my mom before hanging up. When the phone on the wall rings a moment later, I turn my attention back to my phone.

  Me: Therapist wants to take me to get it x-rayed. When are you finished? Think you’d be able to come with me?

  While I wait for Trevor’s response I scroll through Instagram to see if Martin’s posted anything new since yesterday. We’ve stayed in touch ever since the YIGP finals, sending pictures and comparing notes on the repertoire we’re learning, him in New York and me here in Seattle. CBS is doing excerpts from Balanchine’s Stars and Stripes for the upper division class’s workshop performance. I admit I’m jealous. That ballet has always looked like such fun to dance, especially the sailors, but I wouldn’t give up doing Swan Lake for anything. Swan Lake is just so perfect—everything a classical ballet should be.

  Martin posted a picture this morning of him and his boyfriend Sammy in Central Park, eating ice cream and looking adorable. Glancing at my messages, I cringe at the double digit on the notifications and close the app, ignoring them for now. I don’t get as many messages and follow requests as I did when Martin was posting pictures of us all the time, but it’s still more than I can handle.

  Trevor: Finished and showered, I’ll be there in a few minutes. And yes of course I’ll come with you. Not about to let my girl go through this on her own.

  Me: Thanks. I didn’t want to go alone, but I made Lisa go to class.

  Hanging up the phone, the therapist walks back over to the table where I’m sitting. “Okay love, I’ve squared everything with your parents and have your insurance information. Your mom said you had the card with you?”

  “Oh yeah, I do. It’s in my room. Should I go get it now?”

  “That would be great. Is your boyfriend coming?”

  I slide off the table, trying to land gently on my feet. Not that my ankle is hurting all that much right at this moment, but now I’m scared that with every step something is going to go wrong. “Yeah, he’s on his way. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  “Is he a dancer too?” she asks, curiosity in her tone. “Doesn’t he need to be in class?”

  I blush. “Oh no. He’s attending the runners camp that’s sharing the dorms with us.”

  “Did you meet him this summer then?” She doesn’t do much to hide the skepticism in her voice, although if that were the real situation I don’t think I’d blame her.

  “No, we’ve known each other for a while. Him being here the same time as me is a coincidence.” I make my way to the door, hoping to end the conversation. I don’t want to discuss my love life with a stranger. “I’ll be right back.”

  Normally, I’d take the stairs to the third floor where our room is, but something tells me that isn’t a good idea so I wait for the elevator to come down.

  “Hey beautiful,” a familiar voice says as the door opens. Trevor holds the door for me to join him in the elevator. I step inside and immediately wrap my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his chest. The moment his arms wrap around me I relax.

  “Have to get my purse,” I mumble against his shirt. He smells clean, making me want to bury my nose in his chest.

  “Are you okay?” One of his warm hands strokes the top of my head, his fingers sliding between the strands. Can’t I just stay here and forget about my ankle? I’m sure it will be fine. Right? “Hannah? Is everything okay?” It’s the worry in his voice that forces me to speak.

  “I’m okay. I’m worried. The therapist won’t tell me what
she thinks it is until we get the x-ray. But then, she let me walk over here so I guess it can’t be that bad, right? Maybe a few days resting it will be all it needs.” I know I’m talking fast, but I can’t stop myself, all the thoughts in my brain are falling out of my mouth before I can stop them.

  Just then the elevator stops, the doors sliding open. Trevor follows me out into the little common area on the floor, his hand sliding down to twine his fingers with mine. “Hey.” He tugs me to a stop before I can head down the hall. “It’s going to be okay.” He smiles crookedly at me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, then running his thumb along my jaw to hold my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “You got this. Whatever happens, you got this.”

  The tears I’ve been fighting all morning spill over and run down my cheeks when I blink. With a choked sob, all the fear I’ve been pushing aside hits me at once. Trevor’s arms are around me, squeezing me tight before I take my next shuddering breath, but my knees don’t want to hold me up. Instead of collapsing to the ground in a pile of tears, I find myself being picked up. Instinctually, I wrap my legs around Trevor’s waist, burying my face in his neck, holding as tight as I can. He’s making shushing noises, his arms wrapped tight around me, holding me close. I feel us move sideways before he leans against something, my knees coming to rest on whatever it is he’s half sitting on.

  “I’m so scared.” I manage to get out. “What if something is really wrong? What if they send me home? I don’t want to have a reputation as a fragile dancer, I need to be tough. I haven’t even started yet, it can’t be over now!” My last word turns into another sob.

  Trevor lets me cry for another minute, stroking my hair and murmuring reassurances in my ear. “Hey, we need to get your stuff. Which is your room?” he says with a little twitch of his shoulder to get my attention. “We won’t know anything until the x-ray, T. Before you freak out any more, let’s get that done. Who knows, maybe it’s not that bad?”