Page 8 of When Hearts Awaken

Half an hour later,I drag myself down to the basement locker room to wash up before my tutoring session with the trainees. My footfalls echo against the aged gray tiles, my mind still reeling from my failure of a practice just now.

“Taylor, are we still on for tonight?” a sweet voice asks from behind me.

“We’re so excited!” another voice chimes in.

I stop and turn around, seeing the familiar blonde hair and wide grin of Ainsley and the shy smile and dark brown tresses of her best friend Maddy. They remind me of better days—me and Alexis roaming the halls, wreaking havoc.

Their twin smiles falter when they see the cuts on my knees. These fifteen-year-olds miss nothing.

“Are you okay?” Maddy asks.

I swallow a wince. “I’m fine—fell during practice earlier. This is nothing. But this might not be the year for me to get picked to be Odette/Odile.”Swan Lakeis an annual performance for us and I hope to get the main role, but it’s obvious I’m not ready.

Maddy frowns. “You’re one of the best dancers I’ve seen. You’ll get it someday, I know it.” She purses her lips then hesitantly asks, “So um… Are we’re still on?”

I nod and watch the tension melt from her shoulders. Ainsley and Maddy are trainees, both here on scholarship. They show a lot of promise but need help outside the regular curriculum to polish the rough edges in their technique.

“Great! Thanks for tutoring us on the side. I know you’re busy with your practices and everything.” Ainsley grins.

“Don’t mention it. But you guys better work your asses off—I won’t be taking it easy on you.” I nod toward the locker room. “I’m going to change and I’ll head over shortly.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ainsley mock salutes and dashes away, dragging her best friend with her.

Maddy looks back and gives me a hesitant wave before disappearing down the hall.

My lips twitch into a smile, my earlier dark mood receding. They remind me of myself when I was younger—eager, hardworking, hope emanating from them that poverty couldn’t stifle.

I’d do anything to preserve that spark in their eyes. A warmth settles into my chest as I push open the rusted metal door to the locker room.

A group of dancers huddling by the antique boiler stops talking the moment I step inside, their eyes narrowing into slits as they take in my tattered state, and my mood immediately sours.

“Look what the cat dragged in…an orphaned stray.” Carla, their bitchy blonde leader and my nemesis, snickers and her group of lemmings giggles behind her. “Can’t afford new tights and shoes, Tay Tay? Why don’t you get yourself a sugar daddy?”

She pauses, no doubt for dramatic effect. “But then, who’d want an extra for a vampire movie as a sugar baby? You’d probably murder him in his sleep.” The girls cackle loudly.

“Shut your mouth before I shut it for you,” I growl and yank open my locker, watching in dismay the contents inside tumbling out onto the floor.

Dammit. Grace always told me to organize my things as opposed to living in a tornado.

“How do you thrive in chaos, Tay?” She giggles and nudges me before heading off to work. “Aren’t ballerinas supposed to be disciplined?”

I smirk. “Chaos breeds inspiration, Grace. I’ll have you know, I use all of my discipline in my art. Outside of dance is when I can let go. And I bet the authors of those sappy romance books you read live in chaos too.”

“Hey! No book-shaming allowed here.”

The girls snort as I pick up my belongings—papers, overdue bills, food wrappers, and God knows what.Ignore them, Taylor. They’re bullies and want a reaction from you.I sniff a balled up towel—a little threadbare but still smells fresh enough—and toss it over my shoulder.

“God, she’s so gross. Who knows what Madame Renoir sees in her.”

“More talent in my asshole than in your entire being,” I mutter, shoving the rest of my stuff back inside the rickety locker. The low pendant lamp swings from the ceiling, casting long shadows across the room—probably because of the kids pounding down the stairwell next door.

“Say it to my face, bitch.” Carla’s voice sounds closer. “You don’t belong here. Ballet is for the upper class, not for poor, motherless bitches like you.”

Anger churns through me as my temper gets the better of me. Fuck it. Restraint is overrated—why hold everything in when you can unleash it on those who deserve it? It feels fucking good too.

“Oh,I’llsay it to your face, you spoiled brat.” Squaring my shoulders, I spin around to face Carla and her goons and crack the joints in my neck. At five-foot-seven, I’m no shorty, and I’ve picked up some skills over the years to krav maga them flat on their asses.

“Hold your horses, Tay. Seriously, you’re going for a promotion. Don’t get into a fight now.” I smell the sweet scent of lavender before I see Lisa, my only friend here, other than Devon. Lisa is tiny, but her personality more than makes up for it.

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