Page 69 of Endless Love

“Her costume? That’s my costume!! It was custom made for me. It’ll never fit the fat pig!”

My mother had always told me, “Sticks and stones will break your bones, but names will never harm you.” Usually my nemesis’s insults stung despite my mom’s words of wisdom, but somehow at this moment my mother’s bold, courageous soul came alive in me. I stood up and squarely faced Mira.

“Mira, I’m sure it’ll fit just fine.” I held my head up high, narrowing my eyes at her. “It’s my turn. Now, please get out of here.”

Rage washed over her face. “Gustave, how can you let her talk to me like that?”

Gustave grew angry. “Mira, if you don’t leave, I’m afraid I shall have to call security to escort you out.”

She scrunched up her face. “Fine. But trust me, Gustave, you’re going to be sorry.”

“Is that a threat, Mira?”

“It’s just a statement.” Pivoting on her crutches, she glared at me, venom pouring from her eyes. “And you, fat cow, break a leg. And I really mean it.”

A few minutes later, I was alone with Madame Kapinski. She was the company’s longtime wardrobe mistress. She was of French-Russian descent and in her late fifties. We all adored her, including me. She was like a mother to all of us. I was overjoyed to see her and the feeling was mutual. We exchanged hugs.

“My little bird, how good you are back. We have all missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

“You look wonderful. The sabbatical has done you well.”

“Really?” I asked, Mira’s cruel words circling my head.

“Mais oui!You look like a beautiful woman in love.”

I felt myself blush. Indeed, I was. Playing with Ryan’s ballet slipper charm, I smiled wistfully. If only he could see me dance.

Madame Kapinski noticed the pendant. “A gift from your lover?”

Heating, I nodded.

“He has beautiful taste. That eez the reason he chose you.”

I smiled again, thinking again about Ryan.

“Unfortunately, you cannot wear it during the performance. Monsieur F. wants no distractions.”

Reluctantly, I let Madame take the necklace off me. She promised she would personally watch over it and hand it back to me once the performance was over. That made me feel a little better as she slipped it into a pocket.

Five minutes later, I was in The Firebird costume. It fit me like a glove. A stretchy fire-red body suit with an attached skirt composed of red and gold tulle fragments resembling the plumage of a bird. The skirt also included one genuine feather—the magical feather I would give Prince Ivan in my first scene.

“I’ll get my pointe shoes,” I told Madame Kapinski, already heading to my ballet bag. Pulling out a pair, I sat down on a nearby chair and began to put them on.

“Stop, ma chérie,” said Madame as I began to coil the pink ribbons of the right shoe around my ankle. “Monsieur F. eez insistent you wear only zee red shoes.”

The red shoes? The memory of that tragic, eponymous movie—my first real date with Ryan—flashed into my head. I shuddered. Would this ballet be my undoing?

“Are you okay, ma chérie?” asked Madame, sensing my malaise.

My stomach knotting, I floundered for an answer. “I-I don’t have red shoes.” My eyes flitted to a pair hanging from a hook on the wall. Most likely Mira’s. “Should I borrow Mira’s?”

Madame Kapinski shook her head, frowning in deep in thought. “Non, non, non, that eez not possible. She wears a size smaller than you, and even eef you were zee same size, they would fit you differently.”

She was right. It took days to break in new pointe shoes. Days that often took banging the shoes and stretching them until they molded your feet. Everyone’s feet and needs were different. Panic gripped me. “Madame, what are we going to do?”

After furrowing her brows, her face suddenly brightened. “I have a crazy idea, but I think eet might work.”

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