Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“How long have you been planning this?”
“Four months.”
She’d thought she was my daughter at the time, not Lina’s, but she’d had more than a DNA test in place for this plan.
“And you went to Quinn because she was out of town?” I guessed.
She nodded. “She had some bad reviews. Fine, a lot of bad reviews, but two of her girls and one boy placed last year in the Classic, and I figured I’d already been learning from YouTube videos—”
“You thought YouTube was a good replacement for a teacher?” I managed to keep my voice calm. There had been more than enough raised voices in this room over the years, and I didn’t need to add to them.
“Don’t get all elitist.” She crossed her arms. “Not everyone has access to professional mothers and private teachers and their own studio. You’re lucky.”
Lucky wasn’t the word that came to mind.
“So instead of heeding your mother’s worries, you went to a poorly rated studio with an emotionally abusive teacher who throws things to get your attention—”
“She only does it when they’re empty, and it’s just—”
“Once or twice a class?” I finished for her. “And always down the line of the mirror during the rehearsal portion, but not when you’re at the barre, right?”
Juniper blinked. “How would you know that?”
“Because she learned it from my mother.” The words escaped, and I immediately wanted to snatch them back and stuff them into the dark places of myself that weren’t up for observation. My fingernails bit into my palms, and I saw Hudson tense from the corner of my eye. “Which is ironic considering my mother wouldn’t approve of the horrific technique she’s teaching.”
“My technique isn’t horrific!” Juniper threw her arms down at her sides.
“Out of the three of us in this room, I’m the only one with the expertise to judge that.” I took carefully measured steps toward her. “And you have no business being en pointe.”
Juniper gasped, drawing her head back at the verbal blow. “I worked really hard, and Miss Quinn said I could if I felt ready. You can’t tell me that I don’t feel ready.”
“I can sure as heck tell you that you have no business in pointe shoes at ten years old.” Heat flushed my cheeks, but I swallowed most of the anger.
She tilted her chin. “There’s no definitive answer within the community about when to start en pointe. And dancers should make their own choices about their bodies, especially their feet.”
“I don’t know who you’re listening to—”
“Eva said it in a Seconds.” She threw her arm out, pointing at the photograph near Hudson.
Of freaking course she did.
“Sure, because she’s the youngest and was always angry Mom made her wait, and she likes to say controversial things for views. Get off Seconds.” I breathed, deep and even, and reminded myself that she was ten, and the indignant anger that puckered her brow and clenched her fists was something I knew all too well. Finger by finger, I uncurled my hands.
A figure moved in the mirror, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Anne hovering silently in the doorway, watching Juniper with a mix of surprise and what looked like awe. This was usually the part of an argument where she’d step in and take charge, but she hung back because I’d told her to. It made all the difference.
“You think you’re ready for pointe? Put your shoes on,” I ordered Juniper, then walked back to Anne. “Am I wrong?” I asked quietly.
“No.” She shook her head, then brushed her curls out of her face. “You’re absolutely right, and I’m loving the assertiveness. She’s a smart one, and I don’t doubt she’s already back there thinking about how to run verbal circles around you.”
“She’s Lina.”
A smile slowly curved Anne’s mouth. “So handle her like you would Lina.”
“Like anyone ever handled Lina.” I scoffed.
She squeezed my arm gently. “Best of luck.”
Lina had constantly argued with my mother. She hadn’t been the stereotypical eldest, somehow that personality type skipped straight to Anne, but she’d definitely been the most outspoken. And she never changed an opinion—even when she was wrong—without cold, hard proof.
Juniper needed data.
She tied the ribbons of her pointe shoes, and I bit my tongue about her particular selection as I made my way back to her. No wonder her feet had looked a little raw at the beach. “You don’t have to stay,” I told Hudson.
“I’m enjoying the show from my favorite seat in the house.” A corner of his mouth lifted.
Naturally, he was standing in the same place where he’d watched me for hours whenever Mom wasn’t around. But the last time he’d stood there I hadn’t known how he tasted, and now I most certainly did. I shut those memories down and focused on Juniper as she rose to stand on flat feet.