Read Online The Hit List by Nikki Urang - Free Book Online Page A

stops. All the stressful thoughts, the worry about having to dance with a partner again, the bullshit with Luke and The Hit List, it’s all gone. As soon as my hand connects with the smooth wood of the barre, I’m in my own world.
    The entire class starts the exercise on cue without a word from Miss Laney. For so long, these barre exercises have been engrained in me, I could do them in my sleep.
    And it’s been my escape for as long as I can remember. When I can’t stand the thoughts in my head anymore, I dance. Focusing on the movement, being told exactly what emotions I should be feeling, either by the music or by my teacher, feeling the physical pain and pleasure of exertion instead of the mental pain I’ve never gotten used to.
    The one thing I can always count on when I dance is knowing exactly what I should be feeling during a performance. Barre and floor exercises keep my emotions in check as I focus more on the positions than the music. Choreography is a completely different story. I could be having the worst day ever, but dancing something happy makes me forget all about it.
    Dancing allows me to feel something other than what’s inside my head. That’s my goal most of the time. When I’m doing floor work and barre exercises, I’m comfortably numb, content with focusing on muscle memory and the way it should feel if I’m doing it right. Every time I go into practice, I put in two hundred percent because if I’m not getting any better, then what’s the point?
    I finish on the right and rise up onto my toes in fifth position relevé. My right foot automatically pulls back against my left for support, as if a delicate thread holds them together. My arch rests against the top of my foot as my feet slide down against the bottom of my shoes and the stiffness of my shoes cuts into my foot.
    I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
    The rest of the class is filled with more barre exercises and floor routines. We battement, grand jeté, frappé, and pirouette until we can barely move. Miss Laney calls the end of practice as the sun falls behind the building across from the studio. The absence of natural light makes it seem later than early afternoon.
    Sweat drips down my back. My face has taken on the lovely hue of being out in the sun all day. My feet are on fire, a sure sign that the blisters that have formed over the day have also popped. Every muscle in my body feels stretched beyond its capacity.
    It’s the best feeling I’ve ever had.
    “All right, ladies. That’s it for today. Thanks for a great class. Miss Catherine would like to see you all in the main studio for partner assignments in fifteen minutes.” Miss Laney smiles and walks out of the room.
    “I guess it’s time.” Brielle shoves her shoes into her bag and stands beside me. “Let’s go.”
    She heads out of the studio, but I hang back. I have to talk to Miss Catherine, convince her to let me have Adam as a partner. I won’t survive with anyone else, especially not Luke.
    If I don’t speak up, I’ll be stuck with someone I can’t stand.
    It’s now or never. After today, I have no chance of getting Adam as a partner. I find her office and knock on the door.
    “Come in.”
    Opening the door, I step inside. Dance posters line the walls of Miss Catherine’s office, all featuring her as the subject. I take a few steps forward. She looks busy.
    “Sadie, what can I do for you this afternoon?” She sits at her computer, typing something furiously on her keyboard.
    I press my fingernails into the palm of my hand. It’s not that hard. I can do this. If I want to survive here, if I don’t want my plans to fizzle out and die, I have to do this. “I was wondering if I could talk to you.”
    She frowns. “I don’t make a habit of meeting with my students without prior arrangements. I’m very busy, but I have a few minutes open right now. Have a seat,” she says, pointing at the chair in front of her desk.
    I manage a smile and