Page 58 of Weak Side

Theo: Nice play, Bryant.

He texted back just as my finger hovered over the play button for the song to begin again so I could continue perfecting my jeté.

Theo: Not gonna tell me where you are?

Me: Rehearsing. I’ll be here for a while. I’ll be quiet when I come in so I don’t disrupt your sleep, Grandpa.

I quickly pushed play on the song and put my phone down. I shook out my hands and stretched my neck before taking position in the middle of the stage to run through my number.Again.

27

Theo

My hands duginto my hoodie pocket as I jogged up the stairs to the auditorium, frustrated that Claire’s beat-up Toyota was out front. I wasn’t sure how I felt with her being here, all by herself, after dark. It made me uneasy, which was confusing.

If Aasher were here, he’d make a crack about how I was awfully protective of a girl who wasn’t technically mine, but he wasn’t here, so I was going to tuck away that thought and save it for a rainy day.

The door was unlocked, and the only thing I could hear was loud music blaring through the two doors that I knew Claire was tucked behind. My heart sped a little faster the closer I got to the music, and when I slipped inside the darkened auditorium, my eyes went directly to her gliding across the stage like a graceful angel. There was a single spotlight shining down, and the strands of her brown hair glistened underneath the lights as it was half falling out of her bun that was held together by one of those damn fuzzy scrunchies.

I took a seat in the back, like a first-class creeper, and watched as she twirled and leapt with determination that made her look supple in every step she took. Her chest was expanding in her pale-purple leotard, and the short, curtain-like wrap around her waist flew up and showed off her soft curves that I very clearly remembered touching.

She was elegant, and soft, and all the things I wasn’t used to. My hands dropped to the armrest when the music abruptly stopped, and a ring tone started over the speakers. I followed her defeated steps as she walked over to her phone. She unplugged it hastily, took a gulp of air, and answered it.

Although I was in the back, ready to make myself known, I stopped when I watched the way her shoulders edged up to her ears with stress. Her sweet voice carried throughout the empty space, and I waited.

“Hey, Mom. Why are you calling so late?” Claire’s free hand went up to her mouth, and she nibbled on her thumbnail nervously.

I relaxed back in my seat and began to wonder more about her than before. How did she grow up? What was her family like? Where was she from? I knew that she wasn’t wealthy, and I also knew that there was some tension with her mother from the first time I had eavesdropped on her…which I was doing again. Though, this time was purely accidental. It wasn't like I was purposefully staying here to gain intel, and it wasn’t like I was sitting in the back of the auditorium during her rehearsal just to be a creeper. I didn’t want to interrupt her in the middle of the dance, and it would be rude to do it now, yeah?

That’s a load of bullshit.But whatever.

“Well, did you use the money I gave you? For the repairs?”

The money she gave her?Was that why Claire worked so much? To give her mom money?

“Well, where did the other half go?” Claire began pacing back and forth, and it was obvious that stress was beginning to propel her steps. Her hand went to her hip, and then it fell abruptly, like she was taking a beating. “Mom, you have to stop relying on them. Please.” There was a pause. “Yeah, I know. Bu—” Another pause. “Things with Chad and me are fine.”

Huh?

My stomach twisted as she flexed her fist by her side and squeezed her eyes shut. Her back was turned to me next, and she ended the phone call with telling her mom she’d send what she could, and although there was a part of me that understood the hardships that some families who weren’t wealthy went through, there was also a part of me that was angered for Claire. Didn’t her mother know how much Claire worked? Didn’t she know that Claire was beyond exhausted? My parents had never asked me for money, and I knew that when I made it in the NHL and began to indulge in things they wanted anddeserved, giving back to them, they’d want to refuse.

I was pulled away from my thoughts as the music started up again, and I decided that I’d show my face after she finished her rehearsal. My hands continued to grip the sides of the chair as I watched her work harder than before. Her movements were no longer fluid and graceful but harsh and rushed. My breath was stuck in my chest as I followed her light run across the stage until she ended up in the corner, preparing for something big. I sat up a little straighter in the chair and fisted my hands as I watched in awe as she did some fancy leap in midair like a professional ballet dancer and landed on one foot, seeming a little off balance. Her dance ended a few seconds later, and I immediately knew she was feeling defeated by the way she sat on the floor with her head hung low.

“What am I going to do?” the sentence was a whisper, but at some point, I stood up unknowingly and gravitated toward her as I watched her become overwhelmed with some type of battle in her head.

“You know, you shouldn’t practice when your mind is elsewhere. It usually ends badly.”

Claire’s eyes flung open, and the glossy blue within them was just as breathtaking as that time I fell through the frozen pond out behind my house while trying to perfect my own version ofThe Michigan. She blinked several times before rolling her right ankle out and evening her face.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, placing her hands on the floor behind her for stability. I slowly bent down beside her and glanced at her foot, wondering if she was hiding some type of injury, because I swore there was a tinge of pain on her features.

“Has anyone ever told you that it’s not smart to practice when you’re exhausted?”Or when you have an injury. Or when you’re stressed.

“I’m not exhausted,” she argued, exhaling a breath. She rolled her ankle again, and I raised an eyebrow, shooting her a look.

Claire’s teeth clamped down hard as she began to stand up on less-than-stable legs. “Whoa,” I rushed, flinging my eyes back to hers. “What are you doing?”

“I need to run through that one more time.”

---