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)
I hide them in the studio in the basement, where I lock myself up. In the one-inch slit between the floor-to-ceiling mirror.
Mom grabs my fingers, bringing them to her lips. My eyes follow to where her mouth brushes my fingertips. “I’m sorry I pressured you into becoming a ballerina. Seems like I am full of good intentions and bad decisions where my daughters are concerned. I know an apology isn’t a magic eraser for everything that happened, but I’ll try my best to make it up to you. Please, I’m begging you, check into rehab. You are not you right now, and you are one of my favorite people. Juilliard isn’t important. It’s—”
“I’m not going.” I bring her hands to my mouth. Kiss them. Tears running down my cheeks.
I can’t lose Juilliard. I can’t go from Perfect Bailey to Pathetic Bailey. “If you want me to go live somewhere else, I will respect your wishes. I can crash at a friend’s house. You and I both know that if I go to rehab now, my Juilliard dream is over. I’ll never make it. The school is not going to wait for me. I’d have to drop out. Tell me it isn’t true, Mom. Tell me I’m exaggerating.”
The silence curls its cold fingers around my neck, cutting my oxygen supply.
My greatest fear has been confirmed. If I enter rehab—which, let’s admit it, I probably should—it’s game over.
The kiss of death to the thing I have lived for my entire life: ballet.
I drop my forehead in Mom’s lap, squeezing my eyes shut.
I want to get better. But I will have to get clean without going to rehab.
“Bailey, I—” Dad’s phone starts ringing. He frowns at the screen. “Fuck. It’s Vicious. I just missed a huge presentation.”
Dad cursed.
Dad never curses.
This house is falling apart, all because of me.
He walks out of the room, and we’re left alone.
Mom and me. A tour de force turned tour de crap.
“So this is what my child looks like when she’s high.” She peers into my face. But she doesn’t know. Not really. Only assumes because a stranger was in the house.
I’ll convince her otherwise. Lie through my teeth if need be. “I didn’t know you’d look so…happy.” Her face almost crumples before it goes blank.
I look away instinctively, my cheeks burning with shame. My eyes stare at the door hard, and I make a wish that Lev would walk through it and save me.
He doesn’t.
CHAPTER 16
Bailey
The day keeps hitting all the checkmarks to becoming the world’s crappiest.
Thalia shows up at my door. She smells of Miss Dior and wears a green plaid minidress, a big hair bow, and a bracelet with a sparrow on it. Subtle.
She looks like she is wearing a costume of me.
I’m all about Daria’s hand-me-downs and high-fashion knockoffs I find at thrift stores.
“Come on in.” I smile, not sure how to feel about her anymore.
On one hand, she hooked me up with Sydney knowing—or highly suspecting—I have a problem.
On the other, she must feel like a third wheel, which is terrible.
She never asked for me to come back into town. I rolled in and ruined all she’s worked for.
“Bailey, you look radiant!” She checks me out from behind orange opal sunglasses.
Liar. I’m as presentable as a bag of hair. Probably just as lively.
“Is now a good time?”
Never would be a great time, but we’re gonna have to talk sooner or later.
“Yeah. How about we hang at the pool?” I suggest.
“Totally, if you can give me a bikini?”
Sure. You took the boy I love. Why stop there?
“Follow me.”
We climb upstairs and I hand her my lettuce-edge floral bikini. I slip into a white handkerchief piece, trying not to stare at her nauseatingly flawless body.
I finger my dove bracelet. Thalia catches the gesture, releasing a sigh. “I’m so bummed I can’t come with you all to Jackson Hole.”
Every year our families go skiing together. Uncle Vicious has a mansion there. Thalia is implying Lev invited her—and that invitation is active… But that can’t be true.
He was going to dump her. I officially gave him the green light to go after me. You know, right before I started ignoring him again.
“Why aren’t you coming?” I swallow, trying to recover from the surprise.
“My gymnastics schedule is brutal.” She pouts. “Plus, we won’t be able to keep our hands off each other, which would be so cringe.” She giggles.
“Ho ho ho, Merry Cringemas,” I say dryly. Literally kill me now.
She twists up her nose. “Oh my God, what’s that smell? I can’t breathe.”
“Sage.” And that’s because you’re a succubus.
“Aw. Guess I’m not a fan.”
I’m actually burning sage so Mom doesn’t smell how I haven’t washed my sheets in days, maybe weeks. “I’ll keep it in mind for next time you come.”
I won’t. But my dang manners won’t let me say anything else.