Read Online Tiny Pretty Things by Sona Charaipotra, Dhonielle Clayton - Free Book Online

pull back the black drapes.
    My music starts again. I concentrate on my footwork and the variation. I start to dance, tiptoeing across the floor. It flows, my mind letting go and my body taking over. My feet find every chime and melody. I feel ready to smile, to stop thinking about the steps, and let the music guide me. But I hear whispers rise above my music.
    They grow louder and louder until I’m pulled out of the dance, my focus shattered.
    “Do you see that? Look!”
    “It’s written back there. Kind of random, right?”
    “Creepy. It’s about Gigi.”
    Viktor’s hands bang the piano keys in frustration, and he stops playing. Voices explode through the studio. I wobble from the sudden drop in energy. I put my arms out to catch my balance. I don’t have to worry that someone’s seen the awkward move: they’re all looking at the mirrors. Every last one of them, crowded into a pack. One of the girls points to the mirror.
    The teachers burst into a flurry of Russian, and I move to the edge of the crowd.
    “What’s going on?” I say, all out of breath and too quiet for anyone to really hear me. The bodies block my vision. My heart races and my hands begin to shake as people turn to stare at me. Mr. K motions for Doubrava to come. They shout at each other in Russian. He hollers for everyone to get back.
    Bette watches my face. The boys grip the curtains they’ve just pulled aside. Seemingly frozen inplace. People shuffle away from me and whisper. I can’t see anything over the crowd, all the bodies blocking me, fluttering around like butterflies. All I hear is my heartbeat. I push through the bodies.
    Mr. K peers at the glass, shaking his head. I hear him say, “Who did this?” He turns to glare at us all. He repeats his question three more times, and lunges at us. “I will not tolerate this type of behavior in my school! Not again! Ballet is supposed to be beautiful. You’re making it ugly.”
    I want to ask, “What happened?” But I swallow hard. I feel shaky.
    Mr. K stalks through our now silent group. My head feels light from my racing heart and all the voices and the confusion. I get a clear look at the mirror. A message is scrawled across it in pink lipstick:
    The Sugar Plum Fairy has farthest to fall.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
    HarperCollins Publishers
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    FRIDAY NIGHT REHEARSAL ENDS EARLY after the message is discovered. I’m on a high with a rare chunk of free time, so I’m going to use it wisely. I took a pill after seeing the way Alec rushed to Gigi’s side after the message was revealed, and another after hearing snippets of Gigi’s conversation with Mr. K about the bullying incident and her delicate feelings.
    Eleanor’s in the café, so I use our private bathroom to smooth a deep red 1940s Dior shade on my lips. But that won’t save me from the teachers’ suspicions about who did it. There will be the ones who recognized my loopy handwriting or the Chanel lipstick that is my signature color, and my sister’s signature, and originally my mother’s signature. A saturated pink that was way too obvious and will probably get me into serious trouble. But I couldn’t resist putting the message up there. It was sloppy. I didn’t even want her to see it yet. Will did that on purpose. He knows me too well. I used to be much more discreet. Undetectable.
    I remember the secret pranks Liz, Eleanor, and I played on Cassie last year: putting purple hair dye in her conditioner so her blond curls got all stained, shredding up her leotards and tights just to see her get in trouble with the Russians for not having the right thing to wear for class, slashing allher shoes or soaking them in vinegar, trashing her room. But nothing compared to the look on Gigi’s face today. She’s such an easy mark. And the message was so much more clever, and the thrill of it made me feel powerful, but I can’t make the same mistakes I