Prima

Get off the stage.

Why would they let her on the stage?

I almost stumbled, arms beginning to drop, when Jordan, my partner, caught my eye and gave a slight scowl and an almost indiscernible movement of pulling his shoulders back.

Don’t you fucking dare screw this up, he said without so much as moving his lips. It was enough to realize the words and accusations had only played in my head. It was up to me to assure they were never actually uttered again.

The hatred wouldn’t last forever unless I let it. I had proven I could dance and, with time, I could win people back around. I could prove I was a different person now. I could earn their respect again. I just needed to weather this storm first. If I danced my heart out, if I gave it my all, I might even be able to start winning their hearts again.

Tuning out all but the music, a tensing of muscles allowed me to leap high into the air where Jordan was waiting to catch me. With his firm grip around my calves, I arched my back and extended my arms until he slid me down his body and only my toes touched the floor. I spun in circles so rapidly the audience became nothing more than a blur. The hundreds of hours of preparation were a godsend and allowed me to forget everything but the beauty of the dance.

Arabesque…

Allégro…

Balloné…

Dégagé…

Fouetté…

And every form of jeté that was possible…

I did them all. I dipped and arched. I spun and leapt. I did not miss a single beat until I sank into a low curtsy, my head bowed, arms posed precisely in front of me, each finger perfectly splayed as the last mournful note was played.

I’d done it.

No matter what anyone said, I’d danced every step with not only my whole heart, but my entire soul.

Silence descended, the roar of my blood through my veins echoing in my head until I realized it wasn’t the sound of my blood.

It was the thunder of applause.

Applause.

They were actually clapping for me. Not a single “boo” existed. I felt lighter than air, happier than I had in a very long time, and, for the first time in what felt like forever, the future looked a little more filled with color. I pictured my beloved babushka as if she were seated front row center, her face beaming with pride. Imagining her smile made every hour of training and every negative write-up about me reentering ballet worth it.

As the curtain slowly drew closed, I finally straightened, and legs that had supported me through every act now shook, threatening to buckle.

“Damn, at this rate, I’ll never be the lead,” Bella mock-snarled as she gave me a quick hug.

“Get over yourself, girl,” Jordan retorted, his smile huge. “This girl is a freaking star,” he said, also giving me a quick embrace as the others hurried to line up as the curtains began to open again.

As I glanced around at everyone in the crowd, I spotted smiles and happiness rather than the bitterness I’d experienced before. It transported me back to the time when I first joined the world of professional ballet. Everything was so shiny and new then. I’d never imagined I would get sucked into the underbelly of fame, the negative side of it. I’d thought I was stronger than that, and a better person.

Of course, I had been proven so very wrong.

That wouldn’t happen again. I wouldn’t allow anything to grip me the way drugs, alcohol, or a man like Nikolai Kosloff had done before. Not this time. I was a grown-ass woman. Not a fucked-up kid with no real responsibilities. I had grasped onto a lifeline tossed to me, and I had no wish to ever let it go. Instead of taking my life for granted, I would appreciate it for what it was, cherish every moment, and I was going to make the best of it, no matter what it took.

My grandmother was right. I was never supposed to run a dance class out of a garage. This was always where I was supposed to be, and I was so unbelievably glad Alek forced me to take that chance.

I bowed low again in a curtsy even the queen couldn’t fault, standing when I felt a hand on my arm, assisting me. Alek stood at my side, a huge bouquet of red roses in his arms. Bending, he kissed me, and, while it was a simple brush of lips against my cheek, it affected me as much as the first one had.

“You were incredible,” he said softly.

“Only because of you,” I said, meaning every word.

“You did it,” Yuri said, grinning at me as he joined his company, all of a sudden my friend. “You really fucking did it.”

“I told you she would. I never had a doubt,” Alek said with a tone that spoke of his sincerity, of his total belief in me.