Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137433 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 550(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Speaking of—I’m relieved not to have to face those anymore. Not to be constantly measured by a moment or two of excellence.
Now I’m focusing on applying to colleges. I want to study education. And I want to study somewhere nice. Sunny. Beautiful. Somewhere that makes me flourish. Which is why I send applications to UCLA, Stanford, and FAU.
I don’t know what I expect after I send Lev the letter. A phone call? A text? A handwritten reply?
I’m trying to keep my expectations down. Explain to myself that he is super busy with his workload. But it stings. The silence that drags day after day after day as though he was happier to forget about me. Yes, some terrible things happened between us.
But we were once best friends.
In fact, we were once best everything.
You don’t throw that away when things get hard.
Unless…unless your best friend also made you feel the worst.
On the sixth day after I send the letter to Lev, I finally come to terms with the fact that he might never reply.
That sometime down the line—a month or two from now—we’ll meet at a mutual function between our families and exchange smiles, and pleasantries, and half-hearted apologies.
We’ll both pretend my letter didn’t arrive so as not to embarrass the other. We’ll be strangers.
Cordial. Nice. Cold.
“Do you need anything else from me?” I ask Luna before I exit her house, my backpack slung over my shoulder. I’m already in black leotards, a warm-silver knit top, and white leggings. I’m going to teach my first-ever volunteer dance class at a local retirement community.
I imagine if word got out to Katia, my dormmate at Juilliard, I would become another Lauren anecdote. A sad story about a girl who didn’t make it. Only I did make it—I made it out alive and with a dream of my own.
Luna looks up from a pile of pages making up her first draft, lost in thought. “What? Oh, no! All good here. Thanks so much, Bailey. You’re a lifesaver.”
I wink at her with a smile.
“Hey.” Her voice halts my steps toward the door, but I don’t turn around to face her.
“He’s busy, okay? Knight says he barely has time to talk to him on the phone. Only once a week.” She’s trying to make me feel better about Lev not making contact.
Nodding, I choke out, “I know.” I don’t know. So I cope. I take my deep breaths. I promise myself I’ll call Daria when I leave here.
Slipping into my car, I make my way to the gated complex I’ve been invited to.
Mom found me these gigs as soon as I told my parents I wanted to volunteer. When I get to the gym, which also moonlights as an auditorium, there are only a couple more cars in the entire parking lot. Mom said she’d be here to show support, so I guess she’s running late.
I kill the engine, take a deep breath, remind myself that everything is okay, and get out.
There’s only a handful of elderly women in the studio. They’re chatting to each other.
I draw a deep breath and introduce myself. “Hi. I’m Bailey and I’ll be your dance teacher today.” I give them a little wave, smiling—and noticing that for the first time in forever my smile isn’t forced. The three of them turn to look at me. Their smiles are genuine too.
“Oh, we’ve been waiting for you. We’re excited but also worried about breaking a hip!” one of them blurts out in a laugh.
I laugh too. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to train you for the Olympics. I’m here to make you happy. To celebrate your bodies and have fun.”
“I haven’t been celebrating my body since I turned eighty, which was three years ago.”
Another one of them laughs. “It’s all a string of disappointments at this point.”
I grin. “I like a good challenge.”
“Then you’re going to love working with me.”
They introduce themselves as Alma, Ruth, and Mariam.
I hook my phone up to the stereo and get started with a very light warm-up.
I’m trying to shake off the fact that only three people came as I roll my shoulders back.
I inhale positivity. Exhale negativity. Also—where is Mom?
This is supposed to be my come-to moment. The beacon of light I’ve been looking for.
If only I had my dove bracelet, I’d be able to clutch it and get through this. But no one even wants this here. Other than these three ladies.
Who matter, I remind myself. A lot.
I pinch my shoulder blades together, and they repeat my action. The soft music fills the air-conditioned room. I’m too deep inside my own head to hear the door open, but at some point there’s a figure standing by it.
Mom finally came. Ten minutes late, but better than nothing.
“Now let’s move to the barre and I’ll show you some…um, simple moves. You don’t have to be on your tiptoes, but good posture can strengthen your spine and…eh, its supporting muscles.”