Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Parents’ Day was an event that took place every year, sort of like an open house in grade school where your parents came, met the teachers, and discussed what the students were learning in each class. I wondered if Lark’s mom would be in attendance too.
“Yeah, about that,” I blurted out, panic taking hold that our families would be at the same event. It was bound to happen eventually, but I’d thought I would have more time.
“What’s the matter?” Mom asked, the worry clear in her expression.
Exhaustion from the effort of keeping the pieces and parts together suddenly overwhelmed me. I just didn’t feel like I could deal with this tonight. “Nothing. See you then.”
Back at the dorm, I put my bag away and followed Spencer out to the common room, where the others were celebrating. Flash was good at smuggling in alcohol from his older brother, but no one wanted to get caught, so we took turns taking swigs from the bottle in his room until we were sufficiently buzzed. Some weekends we left the dorm and headed somewhere in town to eat, but tonight we walked as a group across campus to the clubhouse.
Sometimes Coach would join us after games, and we’d have to be on our best behavior, only to breathe a sigh of relief when he finally called it a night. Tonight he’d switched on the wide-screen television to the sports channel and had ordered enough pizza to feed the whole team and then some.
As soon as he bowed out, invited guests showed up, the television was muted, and the music turned up. Some of the guys were already dancing with female fans or girls from the cheer squad.
This was when I tried so hard to fit in. I liked hanging out with the guys, but when I was egged on by a couple of cheerleaders to dance, I pretended to be interested. Not that I could dance. I essentially shuffled my feet for a bit and then escaped to the refreshments table.
When I reached for a cup at the same time as someone else, I apologized as we bumped shoulders. “Sorry.”
It was Emil, who had shown up with others from the marching band. At least I thought so because they looked familiar.
“No worries,” Emil replied. “Good game.”
“Thanks. Good halftime show. Not that I’m ever able to watch it.”
When Emil laughed, I joined him. We poured ourselves some soda and stood side by side, sipping from the red cups.
“You should invite Lark to a game sometime,” I told Emil.
Ugh, why had I said that?
Emil arched a brow. “Why not invite him yourself? For two people who were supposedly friends, you sure do ask a lot of questions about each other.”
Lark asked questions about me?
I was considering what to say when Emil clapped excitedly. “This is my jam!”
I watched as he went off to dance with his friends, trying to picture Lark doing the same. Bet he had some wicked moves.
Unfortunately, I’d have to wait until Monday to ask him.
9
LARK
“And now a pirouette in demi-pointe,” Mrs. Leigh instructed as she led the routine. She had been a member of a traveling Nutcracker production for years. Pretty darn cool.
She was coaching the ballerinas, who were wearing their skirts and pointe shoes so they could lift onto the box of their toes while the guys—or danseurs, as we were called—performed the tour en l’air, which was also a spin move.
We were practicing one of the classical numbers for the upcoming fall recital, which would be part of our grade, and my thigh muscles were already burning from the repeated lifts—something male dancers were used to in these productions.
To be honest, I sometimes dreamed I was the one wearing the pretty tulle skirt so I could lift onto my toes and spin in the air as the soft fabric swished across my ankles. Their feet took a beating, though, so it was really more about the aesthetic.
As a kid, I’d begged my mom to let me try on a ballerina skirt in a dance store dressing room. Afterward, she’d bought it for me but swore me to secrecy from my stepdad, who wouldn’t understand. It was the one point of contention between them—that Mom indulged me. He didn’t think boys should participate in ballet, his disapproval showing in the deep grooves of his frown whenever she drove me to classes.
He could be fun and kind, and I knew he cared about me, but Mom had found out she was pregnant with Star after he left, and he’d never wanted anything to do with her. Asshole. I’d admit, I was relieved when he left us, but sad and angry too. I hated hearing Mom crying in her room. But even though neither Star nor I ever knew our fathers, we could always count on Mom’s love and support, and that was more than some kids had.