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NYBA, and now I keep hoping that if I just prove myself to Josef and Hilda and get cast in one of the productions, then I’ll really feel like I deserve it.” Blaine hung his head. “The better you are, the more pressure everyone puts on you to keep being good. And once you’re at the top, the fall to the bottom is a lot longer and more painful.”
    Vanessa nodded but said nothing. She hadn’t seen Blaine so sincere, so vulnerable before.
    “You’re lucky though,” he said, filling in the quiet. “You could still be chosen for the Firebird.”
    Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”
    “Unless I’m cast first,” he teased.
    Vanessa laughed. “You’d make a stunning Firebird,” she said.
    “Don’t you have something to say to me?” Steffie coughed dramatically, reminding Vanessa that she had praised her dancing.
    Vanessa took a breath. “Thank you for your compliment.”
    “See?” Steffie said. “That wasn’t so hard.” And together they walked to the water fountain on the far side of the room.
    Vanessa took a drink, then said, “Have you ever felt things change when you dance?”
    Steffie squinted at her. “What do you mean?”
    Vanessa glanced around to make sure no one could hear them. “Sometimes when I get all of my steps right, things around me start to blur. Sounds get muddled and colors look like they’re melting away. It’s like time starts to slow down.”
    Steffie gave her a hard look. “That’s never happened to me.”
    “Never?” Vanessa asked.
    Steffie shook her head. “And this happens every time you dance?”
    “Only when I get the steps down perfectly.”
    “I don’t know—” Steffie began to say, but was interrupted by a cough.
    Startled, Vanessa looked up to find Hilda right behind them, curiosity illuminating her small eyes. How long had she been there?
    “Do you have something you’d like to share with us?” Hilda asked.
    “What? Oh, um—no,” Vanessa stammered.
    “Why don’t you share with us a hundred pliés at the barre then,” Hilda said, a sour expression on her face, “so you won’t waste your breath talking nonsense in class.”
    Startled at the harshness of the punishment, Vanessa exchanged a glance with Steffie as she walked to the barre and began her pliés, feeling the smooth wood beneath her fingertips, the sweat beading on her neck, the floor pushing back against her toes until her muscles burned. Hilda had brought her back to reality with her irrational punishment, and even though it hurt, Vanessa was relieved to feel the ground beneath her feet again.

Chapter Six
    The overhead lights blinked.
    “It’s time,” Steffie said, smoothing her black silk dress.
    Vanessa gazed over the balcony at the glass chandelier hanging above the orchestra section while they squeezed through the aisles to their seats. Josef had led them through Lincoln Center, past the Vivian Beaumont Theater and the Metropolitan Opera House, around the magnificent fountain, and into the New York City Ballet—where, if they were lucky, some of them would get to dance one day. The mezzanine inside the theater was crowded with luxury: high heels, expensive perfume, suits and pleats and tasseled leather shoes, carved combs, white mustaches, a shock of red lipstick, and the flash of lace stockings beneath the flounce of a skirt.
    “I can’t believe we’re actually here,” Blaine said, fingeringthe lapel of his suit coat. It was incredibly tight on him, its navy-blue color accented with a bright-pink tie.
    “Did you get that in the kids’ department at JCPenney?” TJ teased.
    “Hey, Ms. Acorn Squash. Don’t hate on me because I’m skinny,” Blaine snapped, and buttoned his coat.
    TJ—whose pleated orange dress
did
make her resemble a fall vegetable—blushed.
    “This week lasted forever.” Blaine sighed dramatically. “Plus, I haven’t even found a boyfriend yet.”
    “A boyfriend?” Vanessa repeated. She’d barely ever kissed a boy back home, let alone had