Page 11 of Paper Thin Love

See, it’s hard to hate Jared even when he hurts me because he often tries to protect me from our instructor.

Ballet isn’t for wimps. There is a reason most of us look tortured when we are not on stage. It’s rigorous training, and often, the instructors could have been jailers in another life.

“One, two, three,” Mr. LeBlanc shouts as he claps his hands.“We learned to count as babies!” He raises his bamboo stick and then whacks Jared on the side of the head with it.

My gulp lodges in my throat as I watch Jared close his eyes. We all want to be free, but we’re stuck on this roller coaster, unable to get off. Jared needs the scholarship to escape his life. I need to not react, so no blood coats my hands.

“Again!” Mr. LeBlanc shouts.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as Jared and I walk back to reset.

He says nothing. Maybe he hopes I’ll give in to him again. When Jared first came here, and we were partnered together, we started to have a good friendship that I appreciated. Then Jared grew feelings, and we tried. We’d kiss and make out. It was easy because we spent all our time together. However, the more we kissed, the more I felt like a dancer just performing. There were no sparks. It was choreographed, so I put an end to it.

Jared hasn’t responded to that too well.

To make matters worse, we’re still stuck dancing together, always touching and being close to each other. I feel like a terrible person when I watch his eyes drink me in. I’m also angry that he’s taken to leaving his mark on me in other ways, like hard grips and bruises in the shape of fingerprints.

I’m cornered.

If I say anything about Jared or Mr. LeBlanc, their blood will be on my hands.

“And Mila, stop looking so stiff!” Mr. LeBlanc’s eyes look at my hips.“Lose two pounds also. You’re looking curvy. Remember, Jared has to lift you.”

Yes, my skin is thick, but even calluses can be cut open. It’s not the weight comments that get to me; it’s everything else: how I’m so perfect, how I’m a teacher’s pet, how I must be the perfect little doll that someone is going to call wife one day. How I broke Jared’s heart, how I should be happy to be getting affection.

How I should be...

How I should be!

Those comments cut me open wide because I’m far from perfect, and I hate being compared to it. It makes me feel uglier inside.

I want to be me, whoever that broken girl is.

Who are you, Mila? Maybe I’m so dark I choose not to look yet, or maybe I could be so good that I don’t allow it because I know I’d never survive in this world.

The only person I care to please is my dad because I’m all he has left, and, well, Dad’s all I have left. If my father dies, I know my time is numbered. Dad’s got enemies, and they’d love nothing more than to hunt me down.

As much as kids at this school hate their parents, we also need them. Everyone needs a shield; even a rusted, broken defense can deflect a deadly hit.

Love-hate relationships? They define everyone at Silverstone.

“Enough! Again, one more time,” Mr. LeBlanc claps.

Again. Again.

Again.

My life is a production on repeat, and I don’t think I’ll ever escape it.

***

“Do you want to go to the cafeteria?” Jared asks. A droplet of water rolls off his wet hair and runs down his forehead. He has that clean scent from just showering. He’s handsome, tall, strong but lean, with the body of a male dancer. Curly brown hair and sun-kissed skin. He’s just not my version of handsome. No sparks.

When he first came here, the other guys made fun of him because he danced ballet. A mistake because Jared can punch—every male here can—but Jared can also move fast, just like when he’s dancing.

I glance away. Why is it so hard for me to hurt people, to turn them down?

I always try to avoid Jared after class, but I’m starting to suspect he’s been waiting for me outside the locker room.

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