The Hit List (19 page)

But I already know what it is. Luke is becoming what Patrick used to be. Oh my God.

Calm down. Calm down. Calm down
.

Miss Tasha purses her lips at me, but doesn’t comment on my absence when I return to the studio. “What happened to you guys? We were making progress and it’s like you took ten steps back in one day.”

Because I think I might like my partner as more than a partner. She probably doesn’t want to hear that, though.

“All right, let’s go again,” she says, clapping her hands.

It takes us a couple of hours to be able to run it all the way through from start to finish without mistakes. When she’s satisfied we can do it without messing up, Miss Tasha puts the song on repeat and we dance it over and over to engrain it in our memories, only stopping to take water breaks.

When we finish for the umpteenth time, Miss Tasha presses a button on the stereo and the music stops.

“As far as technique goes, you guys are amazing. Thank you for stepping up and proving to me you can do this.”

I smile, surprised to hear something good come out of her mouth for a change.

“But you both look so stressed when you dance. I can feel the chemistry, but it’s like you’re trying to cover it up. Don’t do that. You have to have chemistry. And you two have way too much of it to even try to cover it up.”

And there it is.

I know what she sees when she watches me because I do it on purpose. I’ve adopted the same mindset I usually reserve for barre exercises. I can’t handle the feelings I have for Luke so I shut them off. Instead of listening to what I should be feeling, I focus on the muscle memory, how each move should feel, and shut out the world.

But I have no idea what’s going through Luke’s mind, why he’s struggling. I glance up at him to get some sort of clue from his expression, but he’s giving nothing away.

While I freak out constantly, he seems to have a handle on his emotions all the time. It’s not fair. How am I supposed to know if he feels anything about me?

“I don’t think this is going to work,” she says, shaking her head. She paces the front of the room. Bad things happen when Miss Tasha paces. “We need something different, something you’ll be able to pull off.”

“This isn’t hard. We can do this,” Luke says. He glances over at me.

There was something in the look. A hint of something other than friendship—I couldn’t have imagined it.

“You’re not feeling it. You don’t even look like you’re having fun. You look like you’re trying to hate each other. I’m changing your dance. You’re going to pretend to be breaking up instead. It’ll be less of a reach for you.” Miss Tasha looks satisfied with herself and her solution.

I think it sounds like a terrible idea.

“That doesn’t really fit with the dance,” I say slowly, worried about where she’s going with this.

“That won’t be a problem. I have another dance in mind,” Miss Tasha says.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. We spent weeks learning this one. I thought you wanted us to be ready for tryouts. How are we supposed to be ready if you change the choreography?” Luke’s voice increases in volume and by the time he’s done speaking, he’s yelling at her. He runs his hands through his hair and walks to the other side of the room. He turns back when he can’t walk any farther and stands beside me. His hands stay locked in his hair.

“You either want to get in front of the talent scouts or you don’t. That choice is yours, but I can tell you right now, you won’t make Fall Showcase with that dance. I’d rather watch paint dry.”

The rest of the week is excruciating.

Tuesday is the same as Monday, but with different choreography. We spend the entire rehearsal learning a new dance. By the end of the day, I’m so tired that I start mixing up the steps. Miss Tasha gets annoyed and sends us back to our rooms.

Wednesday is only slightly better. Miss Tasha can’t yell at us about the choreography anymore. Something clicked overnight and we’re nailing the steps, but we still aren’t playing the parts of heartbroken ex-lovers fresh from a break-up. I ask her if I look happy enough to be in love. She says no, obviously thinking I want to go back to the old dance. I tell her I can’t fall out of love if I’ve never been in love. She doesn’t like that very much and takes her frustration out on us, making us do stupid technique exercises for the rest of rehearsal.

Thursday, she tries to force us into our parts. She wants me to cry, to get into character. I tell her I can’t cry on command. Luke looks entirely too amused about the whole thing until she turns on him too, telling him she’s sure he’s broken many hearts with all the girls he runs around with and that he should tap into that feeling. That pisses him off and he spends the rest of rehearsal dancing like he wants to punch someone in the face. It doesn’t help the fake break-up sadness. And I kind of want to push him out the fifth-floor window by the end of rehearsal.

When I wake up Friday morning, I thank God that I get a break from Miss Tasha over the weekend. I walk as slowly as I can to the studio after saying goodbye to Adam and Brielle. Everyone is already there.

“Nice of you to join us,” Miss Tasha says, looking over at me as I walk through the doors.

I smile brightly. “No problem.” I don’t want to play games today.

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, let’s stretch so we can start.”

Today is no exception to the monumentally shitty week of rehearsal. We make it halfway through the dance before she shuts the music off.

“What are you guys not getting about this? Let your emotions out. No one is going to want to watch you like this. Technique is not enough here. What do I need to do to get you to see that?”

“I’m trying. I really am.”

No matter what I do, it’s still not good enough. I know that. I don’t need her constantly reminding me.

“Well, try harder. You got into this school because you’re a good dancer, but all you’re proving to me right now is that you’re crumbling under the pressure.”

“She’s doing fine. You can’t expect us to be perfect in a week,” Luke says, taking a step between Miss Tasha and me.

I glance at him. He never fails to stick up for me when Miss Tasha’s around, and I’m grateful for it. There’s no way I would be able to put up with her on my own.

“I can and I do. Do you think a choreographer will put up with this? No. You’ll get fired. I don’t know what you guys need to do, but you need to figure out something because come Monday, I expect huge improvements.” She grabs her bag and swings it onto her shoulder.

I groan, not sure what she expects to change in two days. The only thing that will be different is I’ll be less angry with her after not seeing her face for the entire weekend.

She sighs, letting go of her bitchy mood for two seconds. “Maybe you should start by answering this: Why are you so afraid of letting go?” Then she leaves.

I glance at Luke. He’s staring at the wall, completely ignoring me. I know what I’m afraid of, but it never occurred to me that he might be afraid of something, too.

THE HIT LIST UPDATE

October 17

I hope you are all enjoying your weekend. Here’s yet another update for you. We’ve got some more girls crossed off this week and a new guy on top. The game is heating up. Make sure you continue to check in every week to find out which girl is able to claim the top spot on our list.

I know this game has been picked up at other schools, which is fine, just remember that it started at The Conservatory and none of those other games are affiliated with this one in any way.

Until next time, happy hitting!

~ THE HIT MAN

12

Saturday morning is made for sleeping in, especially when my body hates me from a rough week of practice. Apparently Luke never got that memo. At exactly eight, he pounds on the door to my room.

“Sadie, wake up,” he yells through the thin wood.

I pull my pillow over my head to block out the noise and try to go back to sleep.

“What’s going on? Did someone die?” Brielle asks from her bed.

Groaning, I throw my pillow at the door, turn over, and pretend I’m deaf. Maybe he’ll go away on his own.

“Go away. No one’s home,” Brielle yells.

Or maybe he’ll go away now that he knows no one is here.

The pounding gets louder.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Brielle rips the covers off her body and stalks to the door. She throws it open. “What the fuck do you want? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Coffee?”

“I don’t want your damn coffee. I want to go back to sleep. Go away.” She slams the door in his face.

“Sadie, get out of bed or I’ll come in there and drag you out. We need to practice.”

“Do something about him,” Brielle whines. She’s already back under the covers with her eyes closed.

I push off my covers and get out of bed. I open the door, stifling a yawn. Luke is dressed in grey sweatpants and a white T-shirt. His dance bag is slung over his shoulder.

“I don’t think you really understand the point of Saturday morning. It should be illegal to be up this early.” My eyelids feel heavy and I let them close. I lean against the doorframe so I don’t fall over.

“That’s why I brought coffee,” he says, waving a cup from the coffee shop down the street under my nose.

I open my eyes when I smell it and grab it out of his hand, taking a sip. “What do you want?”

He looks too good for eight on a Saturday morning. His hair is tousled in a put-together-messy kind of way, while I’m sure mine looks like a disaster. His eyes are bright, like he’s been up for hours. The smell of his shampoo mixes with the coffee. I bet I would look better after a shower, too.

He smiles. “We need to practice.”

So, no to that shower then.

My brain laughs at him, but I’m too tired for the sound to reach my mouth. “Not right now. Give me a couple hours. If you make me dance now, I can promise you I won’t be able to be fake sad that we fake broke up. I’ll be for real crabby as shit that you woke me up.”

“Meet me in the studio in twenty minutes.” He grabs the coffee out of my hand.

I answer him by pushing the door closed. He can keep his damn coffee. I’ll get my own. Later. After a few more hours of sleep.

“I’m not kidding, Sadie,” he yells.

I sigh, leaning my forehead against the door. He’s not going to give up. “Yeah, fine, whatever. Twenty minutes,” I yell back.

He laughs as he walks away from the door.

It takes me thirty minutes to get to the studio. Luke’s warming up when I walk through the door, but he stops when he sees me.

“You’re late.”

“You’re an ass. It’s been a really long week and I’m exhausted.” I know I sound whiny, but I don’t care.

“You won’t think I’m an ass when we make it into Fall Showcase.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “No, I’m pretty sure I’ll still think you’re an ass.” He’s right, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

He sighs. “Can we please get something done? Miss Tasha won’t be here so rehearsal will be so much better.”

I know that’s true. Everything is better when Miss Tasha isn’t around. “Fine.”

I speed through a warm-up, hoping it will get me back in bed faster. Luke smiles at me and turns to the stereo to find the right song. I grab two folding chairs and place them in the middle of the room. The chairs are supposed to be a park bench and we’ll have prop trees and bushes on the set, but this works for rehearsal. I take a seat on one of the chairs and cross my right leg over my left to get into my beginning pose. He walks off stage to prepare for the dance to start.