The Red Slippers (Nancy Drew Diaries #11)(16)

“Sorry,” I said. “I couldn’t help overhearing. What happened yesterday?”

Evelyn gave me a dismissive once-over. “Nothing an amateur like you needs to worry about.”

“Is that chitchat I hear?” Jamison bellowed from below us. “If I hear another peep, we start from the top, and you can blame Chatty Kathys over there.” Nicole glared at me, as if I had been the only one talking. No one said anything for the rest of warm-ups.

Before I knew it, though, an hour had gone by. We had a ten-minute break before rehearsal officially began. Backstage I spotted Fiona by herself, anxiously digging through her purse.

“Hi,” I said as I approached her. “I’m in Miss Taylor’s class. It’s such an honor to dance with you today.”

“Thanks,” Fiona said, barely looking up from her purse.

“I was watching you during warm-ups. You have an incredible line. What part are you dancing?”

“I’m the understudy for the Lilac Fairy,” she replied.

“Understudy!?” I squawked. “I can’t believe someone as good as you is an understudy.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes life isn’t fair,” she said.

“Who’s dancing instead of you?” I asked.

“Maggie Richards,” she said.

“The girl in the first row on the right?” I asked.

Fiona nodded.

“She’s good,” I said, “but not nearly as good as you.” I hoped flattery would encourage her to confide in me.

Fiona stopped looking in her purse and looked up at me. I felt a tingle of excitement.

“You’re an idiot,” she said with a withering look. “Maggie Richards is phenomenally talented. She deserves the Lilac Fairy role. What I don’t understand is why I didn’t get another role. Instead I’m stuck understudying a difficult one.”

It was all I could do to keep my mouth from hanging open in shock. I hadn’t expected Fiona to say anything complimentary about Maggie at all.

“Argh,” Fiona said, swinging her purse over her arm. “I must have left my phone in the dressing room. I have to go get it.” She spun around with such force that her bag swung and slammed into her back. A piece of paper fluttered to the ground.

I reached down to pick it up. I was about to call out to Fiona when something caught my eye. It was a receipt for Hugo’s. I checked the date and time stamp: last night at 7:37. Exactly when we had been there.

I hadn’t noticed Fiona when I’d searched the restaurant, so she could have been the girl Chuck, the waiter, had seen with Mike Carter, but why would Fiona be spending time with Mike?

I felt like I was taking one step forward and two steps back with every clue. Nothing was adding up.

I couldn’t think about it too long before it was time for rehearsal. Luckily, Jamison only wanted to work on select scenes, so I was able to float into the wings and avoid suspicion.

I paid close attention when Maggie danced her climactic solo. Just as I had back in Miss Taylor’s class as a kid, I became lost watching her. There was something about her dancing that wouldn’t let you look away. My reverie was disrupted when Jamison screamed, “No, no, no! You’re doing it all wrong.”

Maggie stopped abruptly. “Sorry—” she started to say, but Jamison interrupted her.

“The Lilac Fairy is supposed be light and dreamy. You’re dancing it cold and tepid. What is wrong with you today?”

“Sorry,” Maggie started again. “I’m just a little on edge.”

“What did you say?” Jamison asked. His voice was quiet, but I could tell he was on the brink of exploding. All the other dancers had their heads down, not wanting to see what was going to happen, except Nicole and Evelyn, who watched with barely contained smirks.

Maggie gulped. She seemed to know she had made a mistake. I felt somebody come up behind me and turned around to find George.

“This isn’t going to be good,” she whispered under her breath.

I nodded in agreement.

“What. Did. You. Say?” Jamison repeated, this time with even more menace in his voice.

“I’m a little on edge,” Maggie managed to squeak out. I saw her shoulders tense, as if she was literally bracing herself for what Jamison was going to do next.

“Do you want to be a professional dancer?” Jamison asked. “You do, don’t you?”

Maggie nodded nervously.

“When you’re a professional, do you know what your job is?”

Maggie nodded.

“Your job is to dance . . . PERFECTLY!” he bellowed. “It doesn’t matter what’s going on in your personal life. Your job is to dance the way every audience member in the theater—who have paid money to see you—wants to see you.”

“Yes, sir,” Maggie said, but Jamison had just gotten started.

“It doesn’t matter if your boyfriend broke up with you thirty minutes before curtain time. It doesn’t matter if your grandmother is lying in a hospital bed. It doesn’t matter if someone is threatening you or harassing you.”

George and I exchanged a look. That was a weird thing to mention. Did Jamison know something about what was happening to Maggie?

“You want to be like Veronica, right? If I recall correctly, she’s your idol.”