Page 8 of Fighting Fate

Snap out of it, Milli. You've got a laundry list: Graduation. Studies. Dance. College is breathing down your neck. Romance can wait.

I look around and say, "Where's the crazy lights, thumping music, and a packed floor with people dancing their hearts out?" We both eye the place, more bar-vibe than club, with couples nursing drinks and chit-chatting.

Brooke just shrugs. "I mean, Payson said this place was unique, but didn't click until now. She almost had to haul me here, betting you'd ditch."

My eyes pop. She really thought I'd bail?

Look, compared to my besties, I'm Miss Goody Two-Shoes. Straight As, dance ace, tutor, basically the poster kid for good behavior. And, I get it. But that's on me, my goals, my sweat. It's never been about pleasing Mom, Dad, or Luke. My game, my rules.

Luke's chill as a cucumber, just rolling through days without sweating the small stuff, while I'm like a walking planner. Got that from Mom, always super on top of things when I was a kid. Me, I'm all about lining up my week—class, dance, homework—like some kind of life Tetris.

Not every kid's got it smooth, especially with dyslexia. As a little one, that hit me hard. I was lost, trying to figure out why reading was like climbing a mountain, why words just danced around, why I felt so small in class.

How does someone with dyslexia become an English tutor you ask? Well, it wasn't easy, I'll tell you that. But I decided to turn my challenge into a way to assist others facing similar struggles. When I told my parents I needed a tutor who understood dyslexia, they were initially puzzled, but then they found Jane. She'd navigated the same complex path. Jane wasn't just a tutor for academics; she was like a beacon of support, guiding me emotionally as well.

She sparked my dreams, nudged me toward dance. Thought I was doomed to be bad at everything 'cause of the reading hassles, but, boy, was I wrong. Dance became my world, my light. Nailed my first routine at nine. And that thrill, that joy? Unreal. That's when I knew dance was it for me.

Brooke pipes up, eyebrow arched, "You have to admit, she's got a point. Didn't think you'd show tonight. Isn't your dance thing coming up?"

I nod, sipping my drink, feeling it hit a bit harder. Maybe it's the second round, or maybe I'm just a lightweight. "Yeah, there is," I say. Every year since ninth grade, Jazzy Jensen's Dance Studio puts on this big year-end show. Senior year being my last one, it's kinda bittersweet.

My phone buzzes in the pocket of my leather jean jacket as I add in, "Yeah, we're seniors, and this year is slipping away from us. That means fewer moments with my girls here in Stoneton and less opportunity to do all the usual senior year things," I gesture around at the surroundings of this so-called club, "whatever that is."

Brooke cracks a smile. "Milli, you're like a lost puppy in here."

True, clubs aren't my usual jam, but I'm all for a change of pace, showing my best friends I can let loose, at least once in a blue moon.

I dig out my phone and see a new text.

Miles

Playing it cool with the goodbyes tonight, huh, Mills?

Milli

Oh, what, my hug didn't cut it?

Miles

No, I mean . . . yeah, your hugs are top-tier.

That gives me a little flutter in my chest.

Miles

But hey, weren't we supposed to duke it out in Words with Friends before you split? Thought we were doing the whole friendly rivalry thing.

I let out a snicker. Friendly rivalry, my ass. Miles is as competitive as they come; neck and neck with Luke.

Milli

Last I checked, we don't need to be face-to-face for a word battle. So what's the real deal? My hug not up to scratch? Because I know my hug game is strong.

Miles

Okay, maybe I just wanted more hang time, kill me? Missing you, Mills.

My heart's already in butterfly overdrive, and before I can even text back, Brooke says, "Crap. Isn't that your brother?" Her eyes are glued to the door.