I wish it were that simple. Not wanting to argue, I simply nod. “I’ll try to remember that. My inner dancer.”
“And you must practice,” she tells me, as if she knows I haven’t been.
“Yes.”
We do one last number, and I actually try to heed her advice, try to call on my inner dancer; to my surprise, I almost find her. Almost.
“Much better! See, you can do this, cheri.” Now she turns to Faith and Amanda. “And you girls were lovely, too. See you all on Tuesday.” Then she blows kisses, and we head back to the changing room where the next class, intermediate ballet, is just coming out. They quiet down a little when they see us coming, and as usual, they eye us with respect. I remember doing the same thing when I was younger. Always longing to be one of the advanced ballerinas, wanting to grow up. Now all I want is to turn back the clock.
“Are you going to be okay by the time of the recital?” Amanda asks me as we get dressed.
“What?”
She gives me an innocent look. “Well, you know, you’ve been through a lot with your mom. And we noticed Madame Reginald talking to you. I’d understand if you needed to step down from—”
“Amanda!” Faith interrupts. “Why are you—?”
“I’m just saying.” Amanda holds up her hands. “I’d be willing to step in for you, Cleo. If you needed it.”
“Willing?
” Faith laughs. “You’d plow down Cleo on your way to center stage just to take a bow.”
“I would not.” Amanda feigns a hurt expression. “That’s so not true.”
“You’ve been mad about not getting to play Cinderella for months.”
Amanda gives Faith a haughty look now. “I’m not mad. I was disappointed that Madame Reginald favored Cleo. But I’m pretty sure it’s only because Cleo is a blonde, and thanks to Disney, everyone thinks Cinderella should be a blonde, which is ridiculous.”
“You think I was chosen for my hair color?” Finally I say something.
“I’m just saying.” Amanda shrugs as she pulls on a hoodie.
“Cleo got picked because she’s the best dancer.”
I give Faith a weak smile. “Thanks.”
“Or because she’s Madame’s favorite.”
I hurry to button my jeans, wanting out of here, away from Amanda’s poison. “You know, I really don’t need this right now.”
Amanda gives me a somewhat apologetic look. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, Cleo. I hadn’t really meant to make it sound like that. I was only saying if it’s too much for you, I’m willing to learn your dances and step in for you. You know, if you need me to. That’s all.” She smiles. “No hard feelings, right?”
“Right.” I shove my feet into my shoes as I cram my ballet things into my bag. “See you guys later.” I pull my hair out of the bun, giving it a shake.
“Sorry about Amanda,” Faith says as I head for the door.
“It’s okay; I understand.” And I do understand. Amanda wants to dance the lead. She’s made it clear. And maybe she’ll get to. I just don’t want to hand it to her on a silver platter. I’d rather let her sweat a little.
I’m just coming out of the stairwell when I spot Daniel standing over by the door. “Hey,” I call to him. “Did I keep you waiting?”
“No, it’s okay.” He comes over to me. “In fact, I hope you don’t mind that I snuck upstairs and peeked at you girls while you were dancing.”
“Seriously?”
He looks embarrassed. “Is that okay?”
I shrug. “There’s no rule against it. A lot of the moms stick around and watch. Not in our class so much, although my mom used to like to watch. She would pretend to knit or read a magazine sometimes, but she was always watching.”
“Did that make today hard?” He opens the door for me. “Being there without her?”
I just nod as we go out onto the sidewalk. Swallowing hard and willing myself not to cry, I desperately long for a pill right now.
D
aniel points to The Coffee Station, a small coffeehouse just down the street. “Is that okay for coffee?”
“Sure.” And just like that, we’re walking down the sidewalk together. Is this really happening, or am I daydreaming or delusional? I cannot believe I’m with Daniel right now. It is seriously surreal, and I’m tempted to do something really lame like pinch myself.
As he opens the door, a bell jingles and the smell of fresh-roasted coffee and the loud roar of the espresso machine confirm that this is indeed real.
I listen as Daniel places his order and, partly out of nerves and partly because it sounds good, tell the girl I’ll have the same. Before long we’re seated at a marble-topped table where we make nervous small talk until the girl calls out Daniel’s name, and he returns with two black mugs of steaming mocha.
“You’re a very good dancer.” Daniel smiles as he sets a frothy-topped mug in front of me.
I blink. “You really think so?”
“Absolutely.” He nods eagerly. “I mean, I’m no expert and I’m guessing your heart wasn’t totally into it, but I could tell you’re good.” “Thanks.” I explain to him what Madame Reginald told me about finding my inner ballerina.
“That makes sense. Sports can be like that, too. You go to the hard place, and you come back stronger.”
“Maybe...”
“I really admire you, Cleo.”
“Why?”
“You’ve been through so much, but you do it with... with...”—he pauses as if searching for the right word—”maybe it’s grace. Yeah, you do it with grace. That’s really admirable. And cool.” He smiles.
I look down at my mocha. If he had any idea... if he knew what role I played in my own mother’s death, what a horrible daughter, what a spoiled brat I really am... well, he probably wouldn’t even want to talk to me. And who could blame him?
“So I was determined not to bring you down,” he tells me. “And it looks like I’ve already done that.”
I look up at him, longing not to blow this moment, wishing I were someone else or that this were a few weeks earlier. “No, you’re not bringing me down. I’m just already there. I’m sorry. I guess I’m not very good company.”
“No, you’re fine, Cleo.” He begins talking about other things, telling me about his plan to work at his dad’s radio station this summer.
“Will you be a DJ?”
He chuckles. “I wish. No, I’ll be more like a gopher. I work there every summer, and I’ve only been on the air a few times. But that would be cool.”
“You’d probably be good at it. You have a nice voice.”
“Thanks.” He actually does some little DJ narrative, which is really pretty good.
“Sounds like you’ve been practicing.”
“I keep trying to talk Dad into giving me a chance. You never know.”
We continue to talk about nothing and everything, and finally he tells me it’s after six o’clock. “Do you need to get home?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Do you?”
“Kind of.”
I reach for my bag. “Yeah, my aunt will probably start wondering.” Then I tell him about how protective my mom was of me. “And since my aunt is her sister, I suspect she’ll pick up where my mom left off.”
“That must be nice.”
“Nice?” I stare at him in wonder as we both stand. “Are you kidding?”
“My parents got divorced a few years ago.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
“It’s not big news. Anyway, my mom remarried a guy I don’t get along with, so I asked to live with my dad and my mom didn’t protest.” He opens the door for me.
“Oh...” I try to wrap my head around this as we go out. “Do you miss her?”
“Sometimes.” He presses his lips together with a frown. “And sometimes I just get really angry at her.”
“Angry?”
“You know, for leaving my dad, finding someone else.”
“Oh... yeah.”
“Like maybe it would’ve been easier if she’d died instead.”
I feel slightly stunned by this statement.
“I know, it sounds horrible.” We’re walking back toward the ballet academy now, and I’m guessing he’s parked there. “It’s not something I’m proud of or go around saying ever. But it’s the truth.”
“I think I can understand that.” But the truth is, I don’t really get this. I would much rather have my mom leave my dad and be alive than the way things are. Still, I’m not going to say that.
“Here we are,” he says as we come to a small blue pickup. “My wheels.”
“Nice,” I say as he opens the passenger door for me. I’m surprised he’s such a gentleman, but I appreciate it.
“Not that nice,” he says with a grin. “But as my dad tells me, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” He laughs. “Whatever that means.”
“I asked my dad if I could have my mom’s car,” I admit as Daniel turns his key in the ignition. “Now I wonder if that’s a mistake.”
“Why would it be a mistake?”
“It was... you know... the last place she was... before the murder.”
“Oh.” He nods with a slight frown. “That could be kind of hard, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I’m kind of rethinking it now. I just thought it’d be good to have my own car.”
“Well, if you need a ride, I’m around.”
I glance at him, wondering why he’s being so nice to me. Is it just pity? His Christian duty? To change the subject, I give him directions to my house. Then we both sit there quietly for a while.
“Am I coming on too strong, Cleo?”
“Too strong?”
“I don’t want to scare you away.”
“What do you mean? Scare me away?”
“I mean,
I like you
, Cleo.”
“Oh.” I look straight ahead now. I think I get what he’s saying, and a part of me is blown away to hear it. But another part of me is worried, unsure of how to handle this. Is he saying he wants to go out with me? Be my boyfriend? I’ve never had a serious boyfriend before. But now here I am, with the guy of my dreams—and he’s telling me he likes me.
“I am coming on too strong, aren’t I?”
“No, I’m just trying to take all this in.”
“Unless the rumors were true,” he says quietly. “But I never believed them.”
“What rumors?” Now I feel nervous. What have people been saying about me?
“Well, a while back, some of the girls—you know how they can be, probably just jealous or something—insinuated that you and Lola were more than just friends.”
“What?” I turn to look at him. “What are you saying?”
“I never said it,” he says defensively. “And I never believed it either. I’m just saying there was some silly gossip before. And you have to admit that you and Lola have always been really close friends.”
“And that’s all we ever were, too. Lola was my best friend. And I really miss her.”
He laughs. “I figured it was just dumb gossip.”
“Well, it’s pretty aggravating to hear. I can’t believe what some people say about others. And some girls can be so mean.”
“I know. It gets old, too. Fortunately I think a lot of them have outgrown it.”
“Hopefully.”
“So... what do you think, Cleo?”
“Think?”
“About what I said. I like you. I’d like to get to know you better. I know you’re still getting over the loss of your mom, but do you think you’d want to go out with me... sometime?”
I feel seriously dizzy now. I’m not sure if it’s low blood sugar, like Aunt Kellie would say, a need for a pain pill, or something much sweeter. “Sure,” I tell Daniel, making what I hope is a smile. “I’d like that. But you have to understand that I’m... well, I’m not at my best these days. You know?”
He’s pulled in front of my house, and I’m slightly surprised that he listened so well to my directions. “I do understand, Cleo.” He reaches over and takes my hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’m actually a pretty understanding guy.”
Okay, now I’m feeling faint, but I can’t imagine how embarrassing it would be to faint right here in his pickup. “That’s cool.” I reach for the door handle. But before I can even get out of the door, he’s dashed around and is helping me.
“My dad taught me to be a gentleman,” he says apologetically. “I hope you don’t mind.
“Not at all.”
He walks me all the way to the front door, and I’m not sure what to do. Do I ask him in? Let him kiss me? What?
“Okay then,” he says. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay.” I nod.
“And maybe you’d like a ride to school?”
“Sure. That’d be great.”
“I know you used to ride with Lola all the time.”
“That’s right... I did.”
“Yeah, I know more about you than you thought, huh?” He grins a bit sheepishly. “But really, I’m not a stalker.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
“I’ve just been waiting for the right moment. So I’ll be here a little before eight.” He goes down the steps from the porch. “Okay?”
“Perfect.” I wave now, then turn and go into the house, where I drop my bag with a thud and let out a squeal of delight.