How It Feels to Fly(22)

“Of course. Samantha and I had obviously hoped for more this spring,” my mom said. “But Giorgio’s piece is going to be in unitards.”

It took me a second to realize what she was really saying: that the choreographer didn’t want my body, in a skin-tight costume, dancing his work. But did Mom know for a fact that that was why I wasn’t chosen? Or was she guessing?

Both options hurt—just in different ways.

“In the meantime, I’ve already adjusted Samantha’s diet,” Mom went on. “We’ll have her unitard-ready by the next show.”

“It’s great that Sam has you on her side, with all of your experience,” Mrs. Hoyt said. “Tabitha looks up to you so much.”

“That’s so sweet. Your daughter is a beautiful dancer with a bright future. And—” That’s when my mom noticed me standing there. “Samantha!” She stood up. “A Paquita variation! Well done! I danced that one in school too.”

“Thanks.” Better to pretend I didn’t hear a thing. Otherwise I’d never make it out of here without falling apart.

“Are you ready to go?” Mom asked.

“Are you?” This was before Mom had started working at the studio, but it still felt like she was there as much as I was. Never mind her full-time job—

“Hey. Aren’t you supposed to be with Dr. Lancaster?”

I jolt out of my memories to discover Andrew standing outside the gazebo, leaning against the railing next to me. I close the notebook fast, hiding my scribbled words. “I, uh . . .” I feel breathless. Off balance. “She gave me homework.”

“Ouch. So much for summer vacation.”

I let out a small laugh at that. “Like any of this counts as summer vacation.”

“So how’s it going?” He walks around the corner and up the steps. Sits down on the wooden bench across from me.

“Okay, I guess.”

“You looked like you were concentrating pretty hard. I didn’t want to interrupt you. But then I realized what time it was, so I figured I’d check in.”

“Oh.” I wait for him to go away, now that he’s done his peer-adviser duty. But he doesn’t. And when I look out into the yard, Dominic is now playing catch with Katie.

Andrew follows my gaze. “He’ll make a wide receiver out of her yet,” he jokes.

I laugh again. This time, it’s a little louder. A little more real. “I’d agree with you, except I have no idea what a wide receiver is.”

“Oh. It’s the guy who catches the pass and runs it in for a touchdown.”

“Got it.”

A few silent seconds go by. I look down at my notebook, thinking about my unfinished story—and the two I still have to write. And then Andrew clears his throat. He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. “This morning, when we got interrupted—I just wanted to tell you I think you’re doing great here so far.”

Sarcasm. Lies. Great is the last thing you are.

I stare at him. “Yesterday I had a panic attack right in front of you. Today Dr. Lancaster chews me out for not eating in the dining room and then gives me extra work to do as punishment. I don’t think I’ve earned a therapy gold star.”

“Chews you out?” Andrew says, cocking his head to one side. “For not eating?”

I snort. “Yeah, no pun intended.”

“But seriously,” Andrew goes on. “You’re trying. Not everyone is. I’m working on Dominic, and Zoe’s a whole other situation, but—” He checks himself, like he realizes he shouldn’t be talking about them to me. “I remember what it felt like, the first few days here. It’s tough. Emotional.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking down at my knees.

“I hope this isn’t presumptuous or crossing a line to say, but—I feel like I get you, Sam. What makes you tick. With your mom and my dad, I think we have a lot in common. So I want to help you make the most of your time here.”

“Okay.”

He’s looking at me. His eyes should scrape at my skin. They should bruise me. They have before. But in this moment, they aren’t.

He’s totally judging you. What is he looking at right now?

I duck my head again, second-guessing. Does sitting like this make my stomach pooch out? And what about my thighs and butt, squishing into the wooden slats of the bench? I can’t bring my knees to my chest or sit cross-legged in this sundress, so I swing around to place my feet flat on the floor. Problems solved.

But changing positions doesn’t make me any more comfortable.

“Um, I have to get back to work.” My voice is too loud. “Thanks for the pep talk!” I give him my best stage smile. Lips pulled wide, showing all my teeth.

And then I flip my notebook open and frown at it, pretending to think. I wait. I hear him stand and walk down the gazebo steps. When I finally lift my eyes, he’s back with Dominic and Katie, talking animatedly, one hand on each of their shoulders.

I put my pen to the page. I try to pick up where I left off.

JENNA FINDS ME an hour or two later, when her private session is done. She knocks on the side of the gazebo. “Ready?”

I look up, surprised to see that she’s been crying. Her eyes are red and she has a raw spot on her lower lip, like she’s been gnawing on it.