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Authors: Allison Rushby
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just make it up as I go along.
“These are the counselors’ offi ces,” Katrina continues as we walk past some smaller rooms. “And just down there is the pool.”
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I take a few more steps and go over to peer in through one of the large windows. “Wow! It’s huge.”
“A couple people swim laps every day. Do you like swimming?”
I nod. “I love to swim laps.” That was the one thing I actually liked about school— the pool. You can’t think about anything much while you’re swimming laps. And you can’t take photos of anyone, either.
“Ned swims every day,” Katrina says. “You should let him know you’re interested.”
I glance at her quickly. “Um, yeah. Okay. Maybe I will.” I lean into the window again and pretend to be veeeeery interested in the pool. Water! Black lines! Concrete! Seriously, it’s as if I’ve never seen a pool before. But there’s only so long you can pretend to be interested in a pool, and when I fi nally step back again, Katrina is giving me a look.
“You’re not starstruck, are you?”
Breathe, breathe, breathe. In and out, in and out. “Starstruck?” I squeak, and then cough. “What do you mean?” I manage to say in a more normal voice.
“What do I mean? With Ned, of course.”
I wave a hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m from LA, remember? There are stars on every corner there.” I neglect to mention that I hunt them down to every one of those corners.
Katrina gives me a shrewd look, her long arms crossed.
“Well, good. Because there are already plenty of people who 63
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are weird about Ned being
here. It would be weird if you
went . . . weird about it, too.”
I nod slowly. “That sounds like a whole lot of weird.”
“It is. And Ned’s a good guy. I don’t think he needs any more weird right now. He has enough as it is.”
“Right.” Guilt, guilt, guilt. Because I’m not here to cause him any trouble, oh no, not me.
“I guess we should head back,” Katrina says, and turns on her heel. “You’re in my group— B. Same as Ned.” I’m in Ned’s group, huh? I think of Melissa for a second.
How . . . not very weird at all.
★ ★ ★
Katrina takes a few steps before she stops. “Just down there is the lake.” She points. “There’re a few kayaks and canoes and things. Some benches. It’s a nice place to sit and think.
I . . . go there sometimes.” She glances down at me slightly ner vous ly when she says this.
I pause for a second, not wanting to pry (me! who knew?), but something tells me she wouldn’t have said anything at all about “thinking” if she wasn’t open to being asked. “So you can’t . . . do ballet . . . be a ballerina . . . anymore? Sorry, I don’t know the right terms.”
Katrina bites her lip and glances toward the lake again.
“No one’s actually said that. It’s more a combination of me knowing my body isn’t ideal, my body and brain not 64
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communicating anymore, and generally losing interest. It used to be so easy. And now it’s so hard . . . I just think I might not want it enough to fi ght the battles I’d have to fi ght.” She turns back to me. “Does that make any sense?” I nod. “Sure.”
“And that’s why I’m here, I guess. To come to grips with that. To realize my life isn’t going to turn out exactly as I’d planned it. To think about what comes next.”
“You sound like you’re taking it all pretty well.” Katrina laughs. “Don’t worry, I’m not. It’s just that I’ve been here a week. I’ve already had my share of tears, tantrums, and why- me’s. And it’s not like I’m alone. There are plenty of failed ballerinas out there. Ballet is cruel like that.” Huh. I didn’t know that. But there you
“These are the counselors’ offi ces,” Katrina continues as we walk past some smaller rooms. “And just down there is the pool.”
62
212-47604_ch01_1P.indd 62
212-47604_ch01_1P.indd 62
5/5/11 4:25 PM
5/5/11 4:25 PM
I take a few more steps and go over to peer in through one of the large windows. “Wow! It’s huge.”
“A couple people swim laps every day. Do you like swimming?”
I nod. “I love to swim laps.” That was the one thing I actually liked about school— the pool. You can’t think about anything much while you’re swimming laps. And you can’t take photos of anyone, either.
“Ned swims every day,” Katrina says. “You should let him know you’re interested.”
I glance at her quickly. “Um, yeah. Okay. Maybe I will.” I lean into the window again and pretend to be veeeeery interested in the pool. Water! Black lines! Concrete! Seriously, it’s as if I’ve never seen a pool before. But there’s only so long you can pretend to be interested in a pool, and when I fi nally step back again, Katrina is giving me a look.
“You’re not starstruck, are you?”
Breathe, breathe, breathe. In and out, in and out. “Starstruck?” I squeak, and then cough. “What do you mean?” I manage to say in a more normal voice.
“What do I mean? With Ned, of course.”
I wave a hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m from LA, remember? There are stars on every corner there.” I neglect to mention that I hunt them down to every one of those corners.
Katrina gives me a shrewd look, her long arms crossed.
“Well, good. Because there are already plenty of people who 63
212-47604_ch01_1P.indd 63
212-47604_ch01_1P.indd 63
5/5/11 4:25 PM
5/5/11 4:25 PM
are weird about Ned being
here. It would be weird if you
went . . . weird about it, too.”
I nod slowly. “That sounds like a whole lot of weird.”
“It is. And Ned’s a good guy. I don’t think he needs any more weird right now. He has enough as it is.”
“Right.” Guilt, guilt, guilt. Because I’m not here to cause him any trouble, oh no, not me.
“I guess we should head back,” Katrina says, and turns on her heel. “You’re in my group— B. Same as Ned.” I’m in Ned’s group, huh? I think of Melissa for a second.
How . . . not very weird at all.
★ ★ ★
Katrina takes a few steps before she stops. “Just down there is the lake.” She points. “There’re a few kayaks and canoes and things. Some benches. It’s a nice place to sit and think.
I . . . go there sometimes.” She glances down at me slightly ner vous ly when she says this.
I pause for a second, not wanting to pry (me! who knew?), but something tells me she wouldn’t have said anything at all about “thinking” if she wasn’t open to being asked. “So you can’t . . . do ballet . . . be a ballerina . . . anymore? Sorry, I don’t know the right terms.”
Katrina bites her lip and glances toward the lake again.
“No one’s actually said that. It’s more a combination of me knowing my body isn’t ideal, my body and brain not 64
212-47604_ch01_1P.indd 64
212-47604_ch01_1P.indd 64
5/5/11 4:25 PM
5/5/11 4:25 PM
communicating anymore, and generally losing interest. It used to be so easy. And now it’s so hard . . . I just think I might not want it enough to fi ght the battles I’d have to fi ght.” She turns back to me. “Does that make any sense?” I nod. “Sure.”
“And that’s why I’m here, I guess. To come to grips with that. To realize my life isn’t going to turn out exactly as I’d planned it. To think about what comes next.”
“You sound like you’re taking it all pretty well.” Katrina laughs. “Don’t worry, I’m not. It’s just that I’ve been here a week. I’ve already had my share of tears, tantrums, and why- me’s. And it’s not like I’m alone. There are plenty of failed ballerinas out there. Ballet is cruel like that.” Huh. I didn’t know that. But there you
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