Mikayla had never thought of it that way, but it made sense. How long had she been moving against the music? Fighting it, and her body, like they were a current?
As the class neared its end — how had the two hours gone so quickly? — Phillipa had them string all the segments of dance together and run the entire routine from start to finish. And to Mikayla’s surprise — and delight — something clicked. The music filled her head and the room fell away.
She felt the way she had back when she first started dancing. Happy. Free.
When the music stopped, Mikayla realized she was smiling. A real, genuine smile. She stole a look at Aria, who was beaming triumphantly, as if she could see the change in her.
The class did the whole routine three more times, more and more students finding their stride, and by the end of the third, Mikayla was breathless, but giddy. How could Filigree and this feel so different? How could they both be called dance?
“Good job, everyone!” called Phillipa. To Mikayla’s surprise, the instructor applauded, and the other students applauded back, the room momentarily swallowed by the sound.
The class broke apart, and Mikayla followed Aria outside.
“Well?” said Aria. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? I thought —”
Mikayla surprised both of them by throwing her arms around her guardian angel.
“Thank you,” she said into the angel’s shoulder.
“You’re welcome,” said Aria. “Just doing my job.”
Mikayla’s excitement about the new dance class followed her home, but it died the moment she and Aria stepped inside. Her father was hunched at the kitchen table, her mother whispering to him, and Mikayla could tell that yet another job had fallen through.
Doubled over like that, he looked broken, and Aria tugged her away by the arm, the two retreating to Mikayla’s room.
“I wish there was something I could do for my dad,” Mikayla said, shutting the door.
“There is,” said Aria, and Mikayla brightened before the angel added, “Be there for him.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“But it is what you can do,” said Aria.
“But maybe if I had gotten into Drexton …” said Mikayla, but she trailed off, knowing that it wouldn’t have fixed everything. As much as she wanted there to be a simple solution, there wasn’t one. “He just used to be such a happy person,” said Mikayla. “Now he’s always on edge.”
“That sounds familiar,” said Aria with a smile.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you used to be happy, too. Until you became so afraid of letting everyone down. That’s probably how he feels. The same way you’re scared of disappointing your parents, he’s probably scared of disappointing you.”
Mikayla had never thought of it like that.
She slumped back against the bed, but Aria got up to go.
“Hey. Where do you go at night?” Mikayla asked. “Do you just disappear until I need you again?”
Aria shook her head. “Sometimes I’m invisible, but I’m still real. Mostly I explore the city. I want to see everything.”
“People live here for years and still don’t see it all,” said Mikayla.
“That’s okay,” said Aria. “I want to see as much as I can before …” she trailed off, frowned, and picked back up. “Before I’m done.”
“How will you know when you’re done?” asked Mikayla when Aria was at the door. Mikayla felt a stab of worry. She didn’t want Aria to not be a part of her life anymore.
Aria looked down at her bracelet. “I’ll know,” she said. “But we’re not done yet.”
Mikayla watched the door close behind the girl, and swore she saw Aria disappear as she stepped through. She sat there a moment, staring at the poster on the back of the door.
WINNERS NEVER QUIT. QUITTERS NEVER WIN.
Mikayla got up and took the poster down. She rolled it up and tucked it in one of the moving boxes. It was a small step in the right direction.
Then she went to find her father.
He was still sitting at the kitchen table, typing away, and Mikayla wrapped her arms lightly around his shoulders.
“Hey, honey,” he said, distracted.
At first Mikayla didn’t know what to say. But if Aria was right, her dad really felt the same way she did, so she told him what she’d want to hear.
“I’m proud of you,” she said. “No matter what happens.”
At that, he stopped typing and looked up, his eyes shining with tears. “Even if we have to move?”
Mikayla could almost feel Aria there with her, a touch on her arm, as she said, “A house is just a house. Home is the people in it.”
Mikayla went back to her room feeling lighter than she had in ages. For the first time, the boxes didn’t scare her.
Aria had made quite a dent in her to-do list, and yet it wasn’t getting any shorter.
Every time she crossed an item off, two more seemed to pop up. Mikayla was right, there was just too much to see, even if someone had a whole life in which to see it.
But Aria didn’t. Mikayla’s smoke was thinning, which meant Aria was running out of time.
“Where did you come from?” Mikayla asked Aria as they rode the subway to school that Monday.
“I told you, California,” said Aria.
“Why California?”
“I was helping a girl named Caroline.”
Mikayla swung her legs back and forth on the subway seat. “What was her problem?”
“Bullies.”
“And who did you help before that?”
“Gabby. Her brother was sick.”
“And before that?”
Aria shrugged. “Gabby was the first girl I helped.” She held out her bracelet for Mikayla to see. “See these rings?” she said. “I get a feather for each girl I help.” She touched the silver feather that belonged to Gabby, then the linked silver feathers from Caroline and Lily. And then the empty ring. “This one is you.”
Mikayla frowned. “What happens after me? Where will you go when you’re done?”
It was a question that Gabby had asked, as well as Caroline. But with those girls, Aria had known what to say — to the next girl who needs my help — and now she didn’t.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Wherever I’m supposed to be.”
Mikayla nodded thoughtfully, and Aria was grateful when she changed the subject. “So,” Mikayla said cheerfully, “were you able to get through any of your math problems?”
Aria was pleased that Mikayla seemed to be in bright spirits all day. Up until lunch, that is, when they took their seats and Beth said, “OMG, I texted you but didn’t hear back — how was the Drexton audition?”
The natural smile slid from Mikayla’s mouth, her smoke twitching and twisting. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t think it went well.”
“No way. I’m sure you did great,” said Katie.
“You’re just being hard on yourself,” Beth chimed in.
Mikayla looked down at her food and managed a nod. Then she felt Aria squeeze her arm. “To be honest,” she said, “I’m kind of relieved. I’m not sure it’s what I wanted. Anyway, it’s not the end of the world. One way or another.”
Beth gaped at Aria. “What have you done with Mikayla Stevens?” she teased. Aria smiled, picking up an apple from her lunch tray.
“Speaking of body snatchers,” said Katie. “There’s a Broadway show opening on Friday, all about aliens. We should get tickets.”
Mikayla went quiet. “I can’t,” she said at last.
“Filigree?” asked Katie, in a voice that made it clear they were used to this excuse.
“No,” said Mikayla. And then, after another deep breath, she said, “Money’s really tight right now. I can’t afford it.”
Aria held her hand under the table, knowing how hard it was for Mikayla to finally be honest about her circumstances. She was tense, obviously worried about how the girls would
react.
But Kate simply said, “Okay, no worries.” And Beth added, “Let’s do something free, then. There’s a concert in Central Park….”
And just like that, the conversation — and the world — went on.
Mikayla squeezed Aria’s hand back, and let go. “Sounds great,” she said.
The last bell rang, and Mikayla and Aria grabbed their things and made their way outside.
Sara was a few strides ahead, already heading for Filigree. But she looked back, saw Mikayla, and stopped, obviously waiting. Aria skipped down the stairs and took a few steps in the other direction. Toward the subway that would take them to the Community Dance Center.
This was the moment of truth.
Mikayla stood there between them, at the literal intersection of two paths.
Aria hadn’t said anything, hadn’t tried to tell her what she thought was right. It had to be her choice. Go back to Filigree, and everything that came with it — the hours of training, the harsh criticism, the kind of dance that won medals and left her feeling hollowed out. Or go to the Community Dance Center and … dance. No gold trophies, no prestige, but no pressure, either.
Mikayla didn’t have to decide for forever, but for now.
“Aren’t you coming?” asked Sara, impatiently.
Mikayla hesitated, and looked from one girl to the other. Then she shook her head.
“Not today,” she told Sara. “You go on ahead.”
And then she took another step in the right direction.
“Welcome back,” said Phillipa, holding the door open.
Mikayla and Aria stood there, breathless from running, ready to dance.
And for two hours, everything was perfect. Not perfect in the technical, no-points-lost kind of way, but perfect in the simple, wonderful way that comes with doing something that you love. And Mikayla did love it. She was remembering how to love it.
There was one thing, though, that caught Mikayla by surprise. She’d gotten there, ready to revisit the dance from the day before, but Phillipa never brought it back. Instead she taught the class something new. And it was great, half-full of moves Mikayla had never tried before, but it left her with a question.
When the class broke apart, she approached Phillipa at the front of the room, Aria trailing behind.
“Ah,” said the woman, “my little Filigree.”
Mikayla was startled. “How did you know?”
Phillipa smiled. “The way you danced yesterday,” she said. “And the fact it’s on your jacket.”
Mikayla realized she was wearing her competition jacket, and felt silly.
“What’s your name?” asked Phillipa.
“Mikayla,” she said. “And this is Aria. And I was just wondering, when do we perform?”
Phillipa gave her a quizzical smile. “We don’t, dear.”
Mikayla’s brow crinkled. “Then what’s the point of learning a routine?”
“The point?” Phillipa tapped a finger on her chin. “Well, my dear, I imagine it’s to grow, to stretch, and to have fun.”
Mikayla saw Aria break into a smile that seemed to brighten all the lights overhead.
“Oh,” said Mikayla.
“Each class, you learn a routine,” explained Phillipa. “You spend the whole class with it. Embrace it. Enjoy it. And then you let it go.”
“But … why?”
“We let it go because it served its purpose, Mikayla. This isn’t a class for the audience. This is a class for the dancer. Does that make sense?”
Mikayla nodded. After years of competition, that idea would take time to sink in. But she was willing to try.
When Mikayla got home, her mom was making dinner.
“How was dance?” she asked, and Mikayla felt a pang of guilt as she said, “It was fine.” She knew she’d have to tell her, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. What if she got mad? What if she made Mikayla go back to Filigree?
“Sit down,” said her mom, and for an instant, Mikayla thought she knew, that she could see it in her eyes. But when Mikayla slid into the nearest chair, her mom said, “Are you ready to talk about Drexton?”
Mikayla looked down. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to say it, but now she took a breath and said, “I choked.”
“Was it your ankle?” asked her mom. “If it was bothering you, maybe we could ask for a redo or —”
Mikayla shook her head. “It wasn’t my ankle. I just panicked and I … I blew it. I’m sorry.”
Her mom wrapped her arms around her. “Don’t be. We all stumble. The important thing is getting back up. If you keep working hard, I bet Miss Annette can get you another chance and then —”
“Mom, I …” she cut in, and then trailed off. Silence hung in place of the truth. There’s something I need to tell you, she wanted to say. I don’t want to compete anymore. But all that came out was, “I’m tired. I better go finish my homework before dinner.”
Then she escaped to her room.
“When are you going to tell them?” asked a voice as she shut the door. Mikayla jumped and saw Aria standing there. Being a guardian angel apparently came with the ability to sneak up on people.
“Soon,” said Mikayla. Saying it out loud — I’m quitting — would make it so real, so final.
As if Aria could read her mind, she said, “Try not to think of it as quitting. It’s just changing course.”
Mikayla swallowed, and nodded. “I’ll tell them tomorrow.”
But Mikayla didn’t tell them tomorrow. Or the next day.
Every day, after school, she and Aria hit the front steps of Coleridge, and Sara went toward Filigree and Mikayla didn’t. Every day she and Aria went to the Community Dance Center and had a great time, so great that all the way home Mikayla would say that was it, she’d decided, and tonight she was going to tell her parents. And every night she’d get home and her dad would be worried or her mom would be tense and she’d chicken out. She was stuck in a cycle of doubt.
Then, on Thursday, everything changed.
She got home and found her father at the kitchen table, hugging her mother.
He was crying, and a horrible pit formed in Mikayla’s stomach until she realized that he wasn’t sad. He was happy.
“What’s going on?” she asked, and he pulled her into the family hug.
“I got a job,” he said, his voice shaky. “It won’t pay nearly as well as the old job, but it’s something.”
Mikayla felt her whole chest lighten, even under his embrace, and as she pulled away, she thought, This is it. This was the right time to tell them, when they were relaxed and relieved.
As the celebration died down, she said, “Mom, Dad, there’s something I need to tell you….”
“What is it?” asked her mom.
Mikayla hesitated. “It’s about dance….” she started.
But she didn’t get a chance to explain, because just then the phone rang.
It was Miss Annette.
And she was furious.
In the end, it was Aria’s fault.
By Thursday, the secret was still tangled in Mikayla’s smoke, and Aria was starting to think she would never tell her parents.
She couldn’t push Mikayla over the threshold, couldn’t use plain words or magic to force her to change. But sometimes, Aria realized, when someone won’t seek out change, you have to bring the change to them.
It had started with Sara after school.
Aria beat Mikayla to the front steps, where Sara was waiting, as she had been every day. “Is she coming?” asked Sara impatiently.
When Aria shook her head, Sara frowned. “Well, quitters never win.”
“She’s not a quitter,” said Aria.
“Could have fooled me,” snapped Sara.
“She hasn’t stopped dancing,” said Aria. “Just because she’s taking a break from Filigree.”
Sara’s eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth to say something, when Mikayla showed up, eyes bright with excitement, obv
iously eager to get going.
“Ready?” Mikayla asked.
“Ready,” said Aria.
As they made their way to the Community Dance Center, Aria could feel Sara following, but she didn’t look back.
Now she sat perched on the Stevenses’ couch, invisible legs crossed, waiting for the call or the knock or whatever it would be.
She’d been shocked when Mikayla actually started to tell her parents herself. And then the phone had rung. Because of course Sara had told Miss Annette.
Mrs. Stevens answered the phone and Aria listened intently. “Why hello, Miss Annette. How can I …” she trailed off, then frowned. “No, I didn’t know that Mikayla hadn’t been at Filigree all week.” She shot a look at Mikayla, who shrank away. “Well, I’m sure there’s an explanation … Excuse me? No, I’ve no idea why she would go there … No one is going behind anyone’s back … Well, obviously there’s a reason … Yes, I’ll be sure to find out.”
And with that, Mrs. Stevens hung up the phone. Aria saw Mikayla watching her mother with trepidation.
“What was that about?” asked Mikayla’s father.
“That,” her mom said slowly, “was Miss Annette. Apparently Mikayla hasn’t been to class all week.” She turned to her daughter. “What’s going on?”
Mikayla stood there, rocking back and forth on her heels.
“Mikayla,” said her father sternly, and Aria got up, walked over, and put her invisible hand gently on the girl’s shoulder, for strength.
At her touch, Mikayla exhaled and then said, “I’ve been going to classes somewhere else. A community dance center. It’s open to everyone, and it’s free.”
“You’re not quitting dance,” her father said sternly. “I didn’t raise a quitter.”
Mikayla cringed at the word. “It’s not quitting,” she said. “It’s just changing direction.”
“But why?” asked her mom. “You’ve worked so hard —”
“Because … I stopped loving it.”
“You’re upset about Drexton,” said her dad. “That’s natural. But —”
“It’s not just the audition,” said Mikayla.
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