by Linde, K. A.
Okay, that sounded reasonable. If that was all this was. But something told me that this wasn’t all that it was. I couldn’t shake it.
See you tonight.
I was frustrated, but it wasn’t like I could argue with him. He was a dad first and foremost. We’d been living in some kind of alternate reality, where his mom and sister were taking care of his kid so that we could have time together. But it wasn’t always going to be like that. And I was leaving in a week. Did I even have a right to be upset?
With a sigh, I drove away from the studio. Piper and Blaire were at work, and I didn’t feel like being alone right now. So, I went to the one place that I knew someone would be home—Abuelita Nina’s.
The wind buffeted against me as I rushed for the door. I glanced grimly up at the darkening sky as I knocked. I didn’t wait for her to answer before stepping inside.
“Abuelita?” I called.
“Peyton?” she asked, stepping out of the kitchen, holding a bowl in her hand.
“Hola, Abuelita. What are you making?”
“It’s Las Posadas, mija.”
A sigh escaped my lips, more like a groan than anything. I’d forgotten. I didn’t celebrate back in New York. Even though I knew a few Mexican Americans who hosted traditional Las Posadas parties in the city, it just wasn’t the same. Not compared to being with my abuelita.
For the nine days before Christmas, we celebrated the journey Mary and Joseph had taken to get to the inn with food and a party and a traditional piñata. As a child, I had looked forward to it every year. My mom and abuelita would be in the kitchen all week, making tamales and atole. Then, us kids would get to knock down the star piñata—a symbol of the star that guided the Three Wise Men—filled with candy and treats. Then, we’d end with a Mexican hot chocolate and buñuelos.
Abuelita must have recognized the pain and confusion written on my face. “Come. I just made a fresh pot of hot chocolate.”
“Chili powder?” I asked hopefully.
“I know which child you are,” she said with a laugh.
I followed her into the kitchen and slumped into a seat at the breakfast nook. She put a mug in my hands, and the hot chocolate, sweet and spicy, tasted better than any I could get in the city.
My abuelita returned to her kneading, and we sat in silence for a few minutes.
“Buñuelos?” I asked hopefully.
They were a traditional Christmas sweet treat—round, fried discs sprinkled with sugar. When they were still warm, I could eat them by the plate full.
“I was making the dough ahead of time, but I can fry up a few for you.”
“Gracias.”
“Now, tell Abuelita what is wrong.”
“I’m leaving in a week.”
“That is a problem. You should stay.”
I chuckled. Of course that would be her solution. “I can’t stay. My entire life is in New York.”
“No, your entire life is here,” she said, adding a disc to the frying pan. “Dance is there for you.”
I frowned down into my hot chocolate. I hadn’t ever considered it like that, but she was right. My family was here. Isaac was here. My childhood was here. New York held a lot, but mostly, it had dance.
“I don’t want to give up dancing,” I told her. “But…I think something is growing between me and Isaac again. I don’t know what to do.”
“If you’re leaving in a week, then you break it off. He’s been through too much, mija.” She waved a spatula at me. “But if you find a compromise, then you make it work. If it’s real, it will work.”
“It feels real,” I whispered.
“I left your abuelo in Mexico to start a new life here. I was all alone. I only knew mi amiga, Ana María, who helped me cross over to Texas. I just knew that there was more here than I could give mi familia back in Mexico. Eventually, he came up here, too, but I hadn’t known if he would. I hadn’t known if he thought it would be worth it to come to America for new opportunities. He’d had to decide if it was real, if he could compromise.”
I heard what she was saying, what she was telling me. That this was my choice. I could choose to go back to New York, to never compromise my love of dance for anyone else, as I had done at seventeen. Or I could find a way to make it work.
“Now, no more worrying.” She plopped a plate of freshly fried buñuelos in front of me. “Eat. This will make everything better.”
20
Peyton
Comfort food always made me feel better.
And hanging out with Abuelita knocked the jitters out of me. We laughed through the rest of the afternoon as I helped her prepare her famous rice pudding. Then, I got ready for the performance in front of the vanity where I’d learned to do makeup, and I headed back to the performing arts center.
I hadn’t heard from Isaac again. Though I knew he’d be dropping off Aly. Despite the hours I spent with Abuelita, I still wasn’t sure what to do. If I could compromise. I just needed to talk to Isaac. It was the elephant in the room. We’d ignored it as long as we could, but we couldn’t ignore it any longer.
As soon as I stepped into the mayhem that was the studio before a performance, I locked eyes with Katelyn. She looked smug and haughty, as if she had won something. But I didn’t have time to deal with her. She was a product of her parents and nothing else.
“Peyton, there you are!” Nick, the executive director, said. “Can I speak to you for a moment in private?”
“Of course,” I said.
I glanced back at Katelyn once more, and she was grinning like a cat watching a mouse walk into her trap. Well, this should be fun.
We stepped in my office, and Nick shut the door. “Sorry about all this.”
“No problem. What’s going on?”
“Kathy called me this morning after the Lawsons confronted you. I just wanted to let you know that you have the full support of the LBC and the board. I spoke with them this afternoon. Apparently, the Lawsons had already spoken with a few of them, but I consulted with some of the students about what happened in that class. They all had the same story—your story—and the board agreed to back you.”
“Well, that’s a relief since I did nothing wrong.”
“Agreed. Unfortunately, the Lawsons are powerful lawyers and a powerful family in Lubbock,” he said and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Too long, they’ve had influence over our institution. It’s honestly satisfying to tell them to shove it.”
I laughed and touched his shoulder. “Thanks for having my back.”
“Anytime. Now, go do your thing. I love watching you perform every night. Such a vision.”
“Thank you,” I said with a flush. “Hearing that never gets old.”
Nick winked at me and then hustled back out into the lobby. I stepped out with a satisfied smile.
“Looks like someone was finally put in their place,” Katelyn singsonged from the end of the hall.
Bebe rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Katelyn.”
She snatched the Clara dress from out of Bebe’s hands. “I don’t think you’ll need this anymore.”
The sheer audacity of this girl.
I took a step forward, all my rage at this entitled brat coming to the surface. But before I could even reach her, Bebe snapped the dress back out of her hand.
“You have to earn this, Katelyn.” Bebe moved into Katelyn’s personal space and raised her chin. “And we all know you haven’t earned it.”
Katelyn opened her mouth, likely to say something nasty, but Bebe turned on her heel and strode away, unconcerned by Katelyn’s behavior.
I didn’t move a step closer. I just watched it all go down in awe. Bebe. Bebe had done that. She’d found her own confidence and turned on Katelyn. I couldn’t even believe it. Had I helped her find the person inside herself to do it? Either way, it was amazing.
“All right, everyone,” I said to the crowd of kids. “Let’s get into places. Finish warming up. The show starts in fifteen minutes.”
>
Katelyn looked like she was going to say something to me. I waited with a raised eyebrow, and then she darted away, defeated. Good. She could be an incredible dancer one day, if she learned that life wouldn’t give her everything she wanted. Like Bebe had said, you had to work for it.
My eyes skimmed the rows of excited children. This was our last official weekend for The Nutcracker. Three shows this weekend and then Lubbock Ballet Company’s Christmas Eve Spectacular show, which was a special matinee event for underprivileged children in Lubbock. All tickets were donated by parents and sponsors, and our charity director worked with the city and local elementary schools to promote the arts. It was everyone’s favorite show. It had been mine when I was here as a kid.
But I couldn’t deny that as I was looking over the kids, I was waiting to see a shock of red hair and to hear Aly’s excited voice. Isaac wasn’t usually this late. Aly should have been here already.
I checked my phone one last time, but I didn’t have any missed calls or texts.
“Peyton, let’s get you into costume,” one of the backstage managers said.
“Of course.” I followed after her. “Have you seen Aly?”
“I haven’t. Let me send someone to look for her.” The manager stopped a runner dressed in all black and asked her to find Aly. “Now, costume.”
By the time I was once again in a tutu, the runner had located Aly, and all was well. Except that Isaac had never texted me, which was strange. The night before, we’d stayed up all night in his hotel room, and now, he was ghosting me?
That didn’t feel like Isaac. My stomach churned over the possibilities, but I kept coming back to this being impossible.
In the wings, I swallowed hard as I moved up and down on pointe to work my ankles. I couldn’t accept that. He hadn’t been acting like a guy on the prowl. Isaac was kind and thoughtful. He loved his job and his family. He was a terrible liar. Always had been. There had to be an explanation.
“Peyton, everyone is set,” Cassidy said, nodding at me.
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Showtime.”
* * *
Dance swept me away.
I’d seen The Nutcracker a thousand times, and the magic of it all still transformed me. The Sugar Plum Fairy role was challenging, and yet muscle memory took over when I was out there. I never faltered. I never wavered. It was just me and the music and this perfect role filled with joy.
My heart beat in my chest as I took my final bow to a roaring audience—something I never tired of—and then ran gracefully into the wings.
Just as the curtain fell for the last time and I hit my wing, my foot collided with something backstage. I gasped as I stumbled forward, and before I could catch myself, I landed hard…on my knee.
“Fuck,” I spat, crushing the tutu as I lay on my back and tried to remember my breathing exercises. It was the only way I’d gotten through the worst of the pain the first time.
“Peyton!” Cassidy gasped. She fell to the ground next to me. “Are you hurt? What can I do?” She looked up at my partner, Reginald, and yelled, “Go get some ice!”
“I’m fine,” I got out through gritted teeth. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re crying.”
Was I?
I wiped tears out of my eyes and came into a sitting position. “It’s okay. Just shock,” I told her. “What did I trip over?”
Cassidy left me for a moment and came back with a pointe shoe. “Who the hell would have left this here?”
I held my hand out for it. The shoe wasn’t the traditional satin pink. It had been dyed a deep brown, and the initials BB had been inked into the shank.
“Bebe would never be so careless,” Cassidy said.
“No,” I agreed, “she wouldn’t.”
Reginald rushed back over with ice then. I waved him off and let him help me to my feet. My knee throbbed, but I wasn’t reinjured. It wasn’t any worse than my normal pain after a performance. Or maybe…just a little worse. But I certainly wasn’t going to show that to anyone backstage.
“We have someone we need to speak with,” I told Cassidy.
“You think someone did this on purpose?”
I gritted my teeth. “Unfortunately.”
“Do you need help to walk, Peyton?” Reginald asked.
“No, I’m fine, Reggie,” I lied. “Thanks.”
“Should I get Nick?” Cassidy asked in a hushed whisper.
I nodded. “That would be best.”
I headed into the backstage area and waited. My knee was killing me, but not a single person would know it was the case. The younger kids filed out first and then the professional company members, who hugged me as they left. Which just left the high schoolers, who always dawdled longer than the rest.
My feet were planted, and the shoe was in my hand when the group of them came out of the dressing room. Bebe among them this time.
I held my hand up. “Bebe, I believe this belongs to you.”
Bebe gasped. “You found my shoe! Where was it?”
“It was in my wing,” I told her, handing it back.
“What?” she asked in utter confusion. “Why would it be in your wing?”
“That’s an excellent question,” I said firmly, eyeing the rest of the company. “Does anyone else know why Bebe’s shoe would have been in my closing wing?”
Half of the girls looked at each other or down. The other half looked confused. Katelyn held my gaze. Not saying a word.
“Do you know anything about Bebe’s shoe, Katelyn?”
She shrugged. “If she can’t keep up with her things, that’s not my fault.”
“Katelyn, did you put Bebe’s shoe in Peyton’s final wing?” Cassidy asked in horror.
“No!” she gasped. “How dare you accuse me!”
A few of the other girls bit their lips.
“She could have been seriously injured,” Cassidy said in her motherly, disappointed tone.
“We know you did it,” I said.
“You have no proof,” Katelyn spat at me.
I smiled. Gotcha. “But I don’t need proof, Katelyn. We’re not in a court of law. And judging by your friends’ discomfort, they knew full well what you were doing with Bebe’s shoe. You’re out.”
“Excuse me?” she gasped.
“You’re out of the company.”
“You can’t do that!”
“Actually, she can,” Nick said. “The consequence for harming a fellow company member, let alone one that we have on loan from the New York City Ballet, is expulsion. If the artistic director says you’re gone for your behavior, then I agree with her.”
Katelyn’s mouth dropped open.
But I stepped forward. “Unless…you want to apologize to me and Bebe for what you did.”
Katelyn snapped her mouth shut, and then said, “I didn’t do anything.”
“If you apologize, then we could put you on probation. You would still dance the last three shows of The Nutcracker. You’d still perform in the spring.” I leaned in. “No one would have to notify Joffrey that their summer intensive student tried to harm a principal dancer.”
Her jaw was set. For a moment, I really thought she was going to tell us all to fuck off and storm out. Such was her picture-perfect life that she never, ever thought there would be consequences for her actions. That she could get away with everything because her parents were high-powered attorneys and life had always gone her way.
Then, she burst into tears, shocking all of us.
“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken Bebe’s shoe, and I didn’t want to hurt you, Peyton. I just…I just…I’m sorry. I felt it all slipping away, and I lashed out.” She swiped at the big tears running down her cheeks. And Lord help us all, she was even pretty when she cried. “I won’t do it again. I swear. Please don’t kick me out. Please don’t tell Joffrey. Ballet is all I have.” She looked so young and vulnerable. Like a kid and not the entitled brat she’d been acting li
ke since I got here. “Ballet is all I have,” she repeated.
I nodded. “I accept your apology. So long as your actions prove it, going forward.” I looked to Bebe. “Do you accept?”
Bebe nodded. “Yeah. Ballet is all I have, too.”
Katelyn looked up at the girl she’d been harassing all season. “I really am sorry.”
Bebe shrugged and put an arm around Katelyn. “Maybe we could try to be friends from now on?”
“Yeah,” Katelyn said, wiping at her eyes. “I think that’d be good.”
I let them all pass and then slumped back against the wall.
“You did excellent, Peyton,” Cassidy said warmly.
“Truly,” Nick agreed. “You handled that like a professional.”
“Thank you. I’m just…glad she apologized. For a second, I thought she’d dig her feet in.”
Cassidy nodded. “Me too.”
“Hopefully, that’s the last we hear from the Lawsons,” Nick said, patting me on the back.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Cassidy asked.
“Fine,” I said quickly. “I’m just going to change. I’ll be out later.”
They nodded, melting back into the roles for the company while I hobbled into the now-empty backstage and collapsed onto a chaise, letting the tears finally roll free down my cheeks.
21
Isaac
I paced back and forth outside of the studio exit. Peyton hadn’t left yet. I checked my watch again. It was nearly an hour after the show had ended. All the kids had left a half hour ago. I’d even seen a few of the runners leave ten minutes ago.
When Cassidy finally came out, I stopped her with a smile.
“Hey, have you seen Peyton?”
“I thought she’d already left! She might still be backstage. We had a little…drama tonight with the high school girls,” she said conspiratorially. “You’re free to go back there if you want to see her.”
“Thanks, Cassidy,” I said, entering the backstage area.
