A hand on my shoulder pulls me back into this building, into this hallway, into this space. It’s Cassie again.
“Just breathe, Gigi, breathe.” She’s looking deep into my eyes, making me focus on hers. “Better, faster, stronger, payback,” she says with a smile.
“Yes.” That’s what I have to be. That’s what I have to do.
I lean in close, so the others can’t overhear. “What you said about Sei-Jin—”
“Every word was true.”
I don’t have to say the rest. My eyes tell her everything. Sei-Jin’s going to pay. They all are.
“The new Gigi is going to be mean,” Cassie says, grinning.
I let myself sink into that tiny four-letter word. Mean. Yes. It’s about time.
6.
June
THE SUN POURS IN ON me from the studio’s wall of glass windows, warming the back of my shoulders. I sip my omija tea from my thermos and wonder why Mr. K is calling us all together so early in the year for a meeting. It feels like fall casting, but it’s not even October yet.
The room is filled with hushed chatter, all butterflies and anxious expressions. It’s just Level 8s in the room, except for a few random students, like the Brazilian chick, Isabela, and the new girl hanging with Sei-Jin’s crew. They are both from Level 6. They’re giggling and gushing, admiring Sei-Jin’s new pink leather dance bag—a Korean import, no doubt.
Surrounded by everyone, I’ve never felt lonelier.
I watch Gigi and feel that same strange pang in my stomach. She’s sitting beside Cassie and powdering her face with makeup. When did she start wearing it? Maybe she’s different now. Maybe everything’s different now. She was my roommate and sort of my friend. Part of me hopes that she’ll never find out what I did last year. That I can still consider her someone who actually likes me.
She laughs with Cassie. Everyone turns to look. They’re hysterical, falling all over each other. When did they become close friends? It’s only been a few days since school started.
My heart sinks down to the depths of my empty stomach. I feel like I can’t breathe in this place anymore—not even in my room now.
The boys trample in. Alec sits with Gigi, then Henri follows, tucking himself against the wall next to Cassie. Will lingers near the door. Cassie watches him for a second, and then her ice-blue eyes flitter in my direction, cutting right through me, her face serious and smug, her body confident. She leans close to Gigi and whispers something, and the movement sends a tremor through me. More whispers, and Gigi throws her head back with that old tinkling, hiccupping laugh, like she’ll die if she stops, bringing all eyes back to her again. It’s all coming together, the beginning of the end. Cassie is the new Bette, and Gigi is her Eleanor.
Gigi catches me staring at them, and she sort of waves for a second, but Cassie says something funny again, and they all erupt into laughter.
I look away.
As if echoing my loneliness, Eleanor walks in solo. She’s carrying with her a gaping hole in the shape of Bette. She sits close to me, but we’ve never really talked, so the thought of starting now feels weird. I focus on the lint on my tights.
Snippets of conversation envelop me. The biggest worry: Why are we having a morning meeting? The second: Why is Mr. K late?
Mr. K is a stickler for punctuality, in himself and his dancers—and his assistant is waiting with a frozen, panicked smile pasted on her face as she tries to keep us at bay.
Mr. Lucas walks into the room then. A deep heat rushes through me, like I’ve just touched a hot stove. He takes a seat in one of the chairs along the front mirror. I try not to stare, but I can’t help but compare the planes of his face, his long fingers, the shape of his nose to my own and to Alec’s. He must feel me staring. I let my eyes burn into him like a laser. But he doesn’t even glance my way. He acts like he doesn’t even see me.
“He’s coming,” someone says. An instant hush falls over the room when Mr. K finally makes his way into the studio, his shoes clacking across the floor. But this time, the reverence isn’t reserved just for him. With him is Damien Leger, the dark-haired former principal of the American Ballet Company, who was recently announced as the new director. If Mr. K is the moon or the sun in this world, then Damien is the sky—endless and all encompassing.
There’s a silent shift in the energy of the crowd, a collective sway toward the front of the studio where Mr. K and Damien stand side by side. I try to stand taller, hoping my energy is brighter, willing a glance my way, willing them to notice me. Their faces are expressionless as their eyes scan the crowd, giving nothing away.
“I’ve called you all together because things will be different this fall,” Mr. K begins, waving his hands in his signature flourishes. “Usually, by next month, we would be doing auditions and casting for the yearly production of The Nutcracker. But this year, the winter show will be danced by the underclassmen in Level 6 and below.”
I’m so shocked that I can’t look away from his mouth, afraid I might miss something. He pauses and taps a pointed finger to his lips. “Last year’s tragedy has left a stain on the American Ballet Conservatory and the company itself. What you all don’t realize is that our beautiful ballet world is very small, and what happens here”—he motions all around him—“ripples out. That scandal has affected even other notable ballet schools and companies. We need to do something—something big—to rescue the school and the company.”
He pauses to let that sink in. “This means boosting enrollment numbers, increasing ticket sales, revitalizing the school and company’s image—making ABC a force once again in the dance world. Revamping the way you all interact with one another—creating a real community here. What dancer wants to come to a place where she feels under attack?” He looks pointedly toward Gigi and then Cassie. “How will American Ballet Conservatory put a legion of talent into its own company, and those around the world, if people don’t want to come here? If people are afraid?” He gestures toward his assistant and the papers she’s holding. “To that end, we have started a new initiative—a mentorship program. Some of you will be paired with the newer students in order to guide them as they adjust to life at ABC. Make them feel welcome and integral.”
He holds out his arm. “I’ve also asked Gigi and Cassie to speak a few words about how the bullying affected them.”
Gigi stands first and walks over to Mr. K. He puts a hand on her shoulder. She takes a deep breath. “Everyone basically knows what happened to me.” Her voice quavers.
My heart races. I grip my thermos tight, the heat of it almost burning my fingers.
“It all started as little things. Nasty looks, whispers, and messages. Glass in my shoes. Even—” Her voice breaks and I know what’s next.
The word butterflies. It thuds in my chest and I can’t help but remember the worst thing I did last year. The worst thing I’ve ever done.
Everybody says butterflies are beautiful. In Korean they’re called nabi. My grandmother used to send me cards every spring back when she and my mom still spoke. She told me to look for pretty yellow butterflies out my window because they signaled good fortune.