Page 86 of Just Like Home

About an hour before the first rehearsal for the would-be dancers, Charlotte arrived at Julianna’s studio.

Walking in, she felt simultaneously close to Julianna and worlds away from her. Twice, she’d started letters to her old friend, just as a way to process all these changes in her life. No dance. No Marcia. No training. No pressure.

No Jules.

It required a lot of processing.

Brinley rounded the corner as Charlotte walked in. Her wide eyes seemed to plead for Charlotte’s help.

“What’s wrong?”

“Connor was supposed to be here an hour ago to pick up Amelia,” Brinley whispered. “Hildy dropped her off, but she said he was picking her up.”

She frowned. “Did she have a class?”

“She was supposed to,” Brinley said. “But she’s been sitting in the back studio refusing to do anything.”

Charlotte’s heart sank. She thought about the line of worry etched in Cole’s forehead the night before when he told her about his deal with Amelia. “Let me try?”

Brinley took a step back. “Be my guest.”

Charlotte walked down the hallway and into the studio at the back of the building. There, on the floor, leaning against the wall, sat Amelia. And now, those same big eyes that had watched her from the second-story window on her first visit to see Connor were trained on her again.

Charlotte set her bag down on the floor and smiled at Amelia.

Amelia didn’t smile back.

“Hi, Amelia.” Charlotte approached her cautiously. It seemed like one wrong move could send the girl running for the door. “Brinley said you came here today to dance.”

Still no response.

“It’s funny, I’m here to dance too.” Charlotte sat on the floor, took off her shoes, and pulled her pointe shoes from the bag.

Amelia’s eyes widened so subtly Charlotte almost missed it. But she remembered the appeal of pointe shoes when she was Amelia’s age. She wanted to learn to dance on pointe more than anything, mostly because Marcia said she wasn’t ready and she knew she was.

Amelia likely had another year or two before she was old enough, but maybe watching Charlotte would help her remember how much she loved to dance.

Charlotte walked over to the Bluetooth speaker in the corner, pulled out her phone and connected it. “I’m a little rusty, but I need the workout.” She found a classical piece that would be perfect for warming up, and she turned it on.

Amelia hugged her knees to her chest, as if to cement her position right there on the floor.

Charlotte decided not to push her. How many times did she wish she could ease in on her own terms? How many times had Marcia forced her? Charlotte didn’t want to be that kind of teacher. She wanted to be the kind of teacher she imagined Jules was. Kind. Encouraging. Fun.

Did she even know where to begin?

She moved to the barre, faced the wall, and began treading up and over her shoes, warming up her ankles. She tossed a quick glance at Amelia, who still wore a vacant expression, but who, she noticed, was watching Charlotte’s feet intently.

Charlotte continued to move through a warm-up she could do without thinking. She moved from plié, pushed up over the shoes, then straightened and came down.

She continued, then the song ended and the familiar music fromRomeo and Julietbegan to play.

Amelia sat up a little straighter.

“Do you know the story of Romeo and Juliet?” Charlotte asked.

Amelia hesitated, then nodded slowly.

“Did you know it was a ballet?”

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