Page 78 of InfraRed
“That’s wonderful, Casey.” She takes both of my hands in hers and squeezes. Her eyes light up with so much pride I feel I may burst. “I had no doubt you would be anything but brilliant. I’vetold you time and again how remarkable you are.”
I pull my hands away and cover my face to stifle an excited giggle. “I know it’s such a small thing, and I need a lot more on my resume before I can audition, but I feel good about it.”
“As you should, sweetheart. You deserve all the wonderful things coming your way.”
“I… If you hadn’t pushed me, I wouldn’t have tried.”
“I think we both know someone else helped more than I did.” She winks, and I blush.
“Yes. Graham helped me with the job, but you got me there. Thank you.”
“Casey, it’s been my pleasure teaching you the last three years, and I’m looking forward to watching you grow.”
We speak for a few more moments before I make my way to the changing room. Since the video and coming clean with Dad, I feel lighter.
And this with Graham and me? It’s everything I wanted as a girl and accepted I would never have as I got older. It’s a dream come true. My knight in Briton riding a black Ferrari came and rescued me. He saved me from myself. I feel like I’m floating.
No. I feel happy, in love, and free.
I should’ve known it wouldn’t last.
Before I reach the changing room, I hear the voices of some of the other girls seeping into the hallway. Then I hear my name, and I freeze.
“I don’t know why Miss Dumond spends so much time on her. She’ll go nowhere. Everyone knows she’s too tall. Not to mention she’s not even good.” I hear Mena Cristobel say. I’ve… Well, I don’tknowMena, but she came to Miss Dumond a few months after me. I didn’t realize she knew my name. “I mean, if shecouldn’t get into the ballet academy she has no chance of getting into the company.”
“I heard her stepbrother owns this studio. Everyone knows he’s always been obsessed with her.” My stomach flips at the sound of Lola Santos’ comments, choking down the bile rising in my throat. I’ve known her since Mom married Maxwell. We were in all the same classes in school. “Rumor has it they’re fucking each other. Like mother, like daughter. Two gold-digging sluts keeping it in the family.”
I slap my hand over my mouth as a sob bubbles in my chest. I’ve been tormented by Lola for years. When I was younger, it was blatant and devastating. As we got older, it became more passive-aggressive.
I became a pro at keeping my head down, avoiding every interaction with her and her friends as much as possible. Eventually, though their words still stung, I was able to tune them out.
I should do that now. Or walk away. But my feet won’t move. It’s as if my subconscious is keeping me rooted to the spot, forcing me to hear what they have to say—absorb every word for daring to believe I deserve a small glimmer of happiness.
Tears burn my eyes. Self-loathing buries itself beneath my skin like a parasite. I hate that I can’t stand up for myself, but even if I could, what would I say when their words dig so deeply that I believe them?
“You know if you looked up jealous bitch in the dictionary, your faces would be there?” I recognize Poppy Carnac’s voice.
My eyes widen, stunned that someone is speaking up against them—for me.
My feet carry me forward a bit. Just enough to lean against the wall, so my shaky legs don’t give out.
“Why would we envy her?” Mena scoffs. I can practically hear her eye roll and the flipping of her blond hair.
“Because she is sweet, beautiful, and a better dancer than the two of you combined.”
“Oh please. Like you would know what makes a good dancer. You are no one and nothing. Don’t you live in, like, Idaho or something?” Lola’s snide tone makes it obvious she doesn’t think much of Sabrina.
“Well, I dance with the city ballet, so a lot more than someone from Buffalo who thinks she’s a professional because she attended Miss Cindy’s school of dance once a week, like every other girl in her grade. Or some spoiled-ass Barbie bitch that is trying real hard to pretend Daddy didn’t get bankrupted by the very man that you claim owns this studio.” Gasps echo in the room along with Lola and Mena’s sputters.
Holy cow! How does she know all this?
The sound of footsteps comes my way. Panic of getting caught eavesdropping—or worse, crying—makes my head whip in either direction, looking for the quickest escape. I spin, trying to make my getaway when my name is called. I’m tempted to keep going, but instead, I stop, look over my shoulder, and then turn around, swiping away tears before I do. “Hi.” I put on my best smile, but it feels wobbly.
“You heard all of that, didn’t you?” My smile plummets like a jumper from the Empire State Building, and I tip a shoulder, keeping my eyes down. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Poppy.”
“I know,” I whisper, and it’s true. I knew who she was in her first class. I’ve admired her work for a while. She’s been in well-known productions since she was eighteen, but she’s perfect. Not only is she graceful and elegant on stage, she’s only aroundfive foot two. She may just be part of the ensemble, but her exquisite talent stands out. “I’m Casey.”
“You shouldn’t let them bother you, you know?”