style. I want to audition for So You Think You Can Dance when I finish school.
âIf itâs still on,â said Sam. âIâm so over that show.â She unwrapped her sandwich and regarded it with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. âYouâd think theyâd have the imagination to change the menu from time to time. Itâs been the same for years.â
Hannah was already chomping. âMineâs pretty good,â she said through a mouthful of sandwich.
âMessy, though,â said Sam. âYouâve got beetroot dribbling down your chin.â
âHave I?â Hannah laughed, then noticed Tom and Liam strolling toward them.
âMind if we join you?â Liam plunked himself down on the grass, and Tom grinned at Hannah.
âSamâs right,â said Tom. âYou do have beetroot on your chin.â He squatted beside her. âIf you like, I could wipe it off.â
âNo way.â Hannah punched him lightly on the shoulder.
âHere.â Tom handed her the napkin from his own sandwich. âFeeling better?â he asked.
Hannah dabbed at her chin. âBetter than what?â
âSam said you werenât feeling well the last couple of nights; you werenât at the Caff. Eat with us tonight?â
âCanât,â said Hannah. âIâm on half-board this year. I have to eat out.â
Trusty sunhat and large glasses hiding most of her face, baggy pants and an oversized T-shirt concealing her body shape, Simone sat under a large maple, watching as dancers left the School of Dance and headed over to the Caff, soon to emerge again carrying sandwiches in paper bags.
Simoneâs tummy gave a little rumble. Right now, though, she didnât have time to eatâshe had something more important on her mind. A note slipped under her door had informed her that a parcel was waiting for her in the office. Though sheâd seen the note at ten in the morning, she couldnât show up at the office when class was in session; sheâd had to wait until lunchtime.
In the distance, she could see Hannah and Sam sitting on the grass in the shade of an elm tree, with Tom and Liam strolling over to join them. A moment later, Tom was crouching next to Hannah, and then Hannah was punching him and they were both laughing. She couldnât help feeling a twinge of envy â¦
It was weird to think she was watching âherself,â watching the person the rest of the class was calling âSimone.â Weirder still to think the entire class believed that Hannah was her. Didnât they think it strange that a girl who was
normally shy and reserved had suddenly become outgoing and gregarious?
Then again, sheâd only spent one morning with the other dancers, and even those who remembered her from last year probably wouldnât have thought too much about it. After all, a person could change a lot in a year â¦
Simone was too far away to hear what they were saying, but the sound of their laughter carried. She was suddenly aware of the contrast between the sense of togetherness the dancers radiated and her own aloneness.
Having been raised an only child, she was used to long stretches of time spent by herself, and generally enjoyed her own company. Now, though, an unexpected pang of loneliness overwhelmed her. Not for the first time, she wondered what it would have been like to have a sister. To have Hannah for company all the time.
She took one last, lingering look at the little group, then reminded herself that right now she was alone by choice, and that sometimes loneliness was the price of freedom. Besides, in just a few hoursâ time, sheâd be with Hannah again â¦
She resumed her surveillance of the dance building, and when she was sure all the dancers had come out, she stood up and casually strolled across the lawn and up the stairs.
Inside, it was quiet, the studios empty. Simoneâs footsteps echoed as she
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