Page 98 of The Devil Wears Tartan

The simple gesture has my eyes getting watery, and before I can stop myself, I blurt, “My mom has really bad depression.”

A weird choking sound climbs out of my throat, and before I know it, Margaret has her arms around me and I’m leaning into her while she strokes my hair.

“I know it’s not her fault,” I find myself saying as a few tears slide down my face and onto Margaret’s jacket. “I feel so bad for struggling with it, but I also...I want a life. Catherine’s always told me to rise above everything that brings me down, but...but I also don’t want to leave my mom behind or think of her as a burden. She’s my mom. I just...I don’t know what to do. I thought I wanted to be just like Catherine, but I...I don’t. I can’t shut myself off from my family like she has. I don’t want to shut myself off from everyone like she has.”

Margaret keeps stroking my hair as I continue to lean into her hug.

“Oh, sweetie,” she murmurs. “Don’t you ever feel bad for struggling with any of this. You’re so young, and this sounds like so much.”

Sometimes it’s so much I feel absolutely flattened by the weight.

“It’s okay,” Margaret soothes. “It’s all okay.”

Once I’ve calmed down a little, I straighten up and step out of the hug, but I don’t retreat back along the desk. We stand side by side as Margaret looks between me and the photos.

“I always kind of thought Catherine saw herself in you. When you and Moira developed your little feud, I...well, it’s just funny how things play out.”

I stare at the world championship photo, at how stiff the two of us look even during the culminating moment of my whole dance career. “How do you mean?”

Margaret hums for a moment as she thinks. “I guess funny is the wrong word. It’s...eerie, almost, to watch history repeat itself. You’re very right that Catherine’s shut herself off from everyone. She has for a long time. I think it’s the only way she’s ever known how to cope. When she started shutting herself off from me in high school, I kept pushing. I told myself I would be the one to be there for her. I wouldn’t give up on my best friend, but...I pushed too hard.”

She starts sliding one of her hands over the other on the desk again.

“One night, her dad got particularly bad when I was over doing homework with Catherine. When I saw him get angry like that, I was terrified—not just for myself, but for her. For the family. Things were so much worse than I thought, and I...I got very blunt. I kept insisting I’d call the police, and Catherine panicked. She didn’t want anyone to know. She didn’t want it to be real. I know the police weren’t the right people to call, but I didn’t know any better back then, so I did it. I was so scared. Catherine had already kicked me out of the house. She called me a lot of names and said she’d ruin my life. It hurt back then, but I don’t blame her. Even with whatever the police did, the family kept living with her father for years after that night, but...Catherine never spoke to me again, except for a few sharp words at competitions.”

I let the story sink in as we stand in silence for a few moments. Catherine and Margaret’s exchange in the stairwell makes perfect sense now, and my heart aches for both of them.

“Does Moira know about this?”

Margaret shakes her head. “She knows Catherine and I were friends for a bit, but the rest is Catherine’s story, not mine. I’m telling you because you seem to know most of her side already, and...and because I know Moira hurt you today. I know she acted rashly about something she’ll never fully understand. I can’t claim to fully understand your or Catherine’s situations, and I’m not trying to get into your and Moira’s business, but I thought you deserved to know that whatever happens with you and Moira, you will always have a safe place to stay in my home, and if you ever need somewhere to dance, there’s plenty of room at the Murray School.”

My throat gets thick. “Margaret, that’s...that’s...”

She holds up a hand. “I didn’t come here to push things, and I don’t need a reply. I just wanted to say it.”

I swallow around the lump that’s choking me and murmur, “Thank you.”

She nods. “I’d better go.”

She takes a step back, but instead of leaving, her fingers reach down to trace the metal logo affixed to the desk.

“I always thought she’d change the name,” she says, so quietly that at first I’m not sure she’s even talking to me. “Rebecca Stewart left town years ago, and I heard she and Catherine had a falling out years before that, but she’s never changed the school’s name.”

I watch as she curls her fingertip around the top edge of the ‘R’ on the logo, the one that stands for Catherine’s mom.

“She still has a lot of love in her, Kenzie.” Margaret looks back up at me. “You do too. I can tell. I think you’re going to find your way.”

I don’t move from my spot beside the desk as she says her goodbyes and heads back outside, but once the door swings shut, I speak into the silence.

“Yeah. I am.”

CHAPTER 23

KENZIE

I leave the studio a few minutes after Margaret and drive the familiar route back home. Once I’ve pulled into our parking spot, I sit with the engine shut off and stare up at the high rise in front of me.

I don’t know what’s going to happen when I walk in there. These days, I never do, but I know something has to change.

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