A Wright Christmas

My chest tightened. One more week. It wasn’t enough time.

I shook my head to drown out Piper’s ranting and grabbed a quick shower. Afterward, I pulled my hair up into a messy bun, threw on leggings and my favorite sweater, and then went straight back out the door.

The radio announced a storm on the horizon. Possibly the first snowflakes of the season. I’d believe it when I saw it. Lubbock weather tended to do whatever it wanted. Snow when it wasn’t in the forecast and clear skies when it was supposed to snow. Everyone prepared like a blizzard was coming, but no one really believed it would happen.

When I parked in front of the studio, a couple in power suits was already waiting for me at the entrance. I took a deep breath before exiting. The wind buffeted against me as I jogged to the front door. Maybe a storm really was coming.

“Hi. Sorry I’m late,” I said, reaching for my keys. It was only five minutes, but the look on their faces told me everything I needed to know about what was about to happen. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m Angelica Lawson, and this is my husband, Bart.”

“Ah, you’re Katelyn’s parents,” I said, realizing immediately where this was going. I pushed the front door open and gestured them inside. “Why don’t we go into the office, and we can talk?”

I directed them down to Kathy’s office, dropping my purse on the floor next to the desk and taking an authoritative seat. Katelyn’s parents settled uncomfortably before me. They were middle-aged and clearly well off, based on their appearances. Angelica’s suit was top of the line, and her forehead didn’t move. I recognized the signs from the donors back in New York. Bart’s hair was thinning, and he wore a grim expression, as if it were his job.

“Now, how can I help you?” I asked, raising my chin and waiting for the inevitable.

“We came to discuss your mistreatment of Katelyn,” Angelica said haughtily.

“Mistreatment?”

“You kicked her out of class!” Angelica cried.

“I did no such thing,” I said immediately. “I told her that if she wouldn’t comply with my rules that she could leave, and she chose to do so.”

“You had no right,” Bart growled.

I held my hand up. “Before you continue, I would like to make it quite clear that I have every right to run my classroom as I see fit. I am not here to coddle the children. I am here to teach them to be better dancers and ideally better humans in the process. My goal is for everyone to reach their potential through hard work and discipline. If you do not like that, then there is nothing more we have to say here. Katelyn is not required to take my classes. She is required to follow directions while she is there. If she doesn’t like that, she can leave, which she did of her own volition.”

“We didn’t donate all of our time and hard-earned money to this company to have our daughter be treated like this,” Angelica said, coming out of her seat.

“Treated how exactly?” I asked.

“Like she is beneath you,” Bart raged. He stood, too.

Both of them towered over me, but I refused to rise to my feet, to give them the satisfaction of thinking I was flustered.

“She’s not beneath me. This has nothing to do with me in fact. She is a student, and I am her teacher as well as the artistic director. She has to follow the rules, just like anyone else. No amount of time or money will change that.”

“How dare you!” Angelica said. “Katelyn is the best dancer in the pre-professional company. She has already been accepted to Joffrey’s summer intensive. How do you think it will look for her to leave your studio in her last year?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Lawson. My senior year, I’d already been admitted to the School of American Ballet in New York City.” I smiled sweetly.

“That is beside the point,” Bart said, flustered.

“Katelyn should have been cast in the role of Clara over that talentless hack who showed up two years ago,” Angelica spat in her anger.

My heart hammered in my chest, but I carefully laid my hands out before me on the desk and slowly came to my feet. I wasn’t taller than either of them, but I’d had years of dealing with entitled people who believed someone else should take my spot. I would not see the same happen to Bebe if I could help it.

“I would appreciate it if you did not resort to insults. Everyone who is in the pre-professional company is talented. That goes without saying. Bebe might have less experience, but she is the hardest-working student in the company, pre-professional or otherwise,” I said flatly. “If you are going to continue to insult the institution that you believe you are defending, then you, like your daughter, can see yourself out.”