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But that was not my name.

There had to be a mistake. I’d nailed the audition. There was no good reason to give the part to whats-her-face.

I marched over to Frau Hoffman, right past Louisa and the other girls who’d gotten roles. Four of them gave me stink faces, but Louisa stepped away from the rest and into my path. She took me by the shoulders and whispered, “ClaraMarie, don’t do this. Frau Hoffman isn't going to change her mind. Marea has real talent, and this could be the start of her career. You don’t want to ruin that for her, do you? I didn't think you were the kind of Stahlbaum who was spiteful.”

Well, crap. Why'd she have to go and say that? She could have said anything else, and I could have ignored her, kept on my righteous path to get what I wanted. Dammit. I refused to act like my brother.

I swallowed hard and felt my future drop through the floor and skulk away as if it never existed. Why did I even try so hard? I wasn't ever going to get a part. I was too fat, not pretty enough, and not talented enough to make up for my other shortcomings. "You're a good friend Louisa. Thanks."

My self-righteous anger oozed into a glob of green jealousy sitting in the pit of my stomach. Maybe if I had told myself that I wasn't going to get the part anyway, like I usually did, this wouldn't feel so damn bad. Just this once I... never mind. I'd be a lot smarter, if not happier if I quit dreaming of being a dancer, even for fun, and got on with real life.

Tonight's Christmas Eve party was the perfect place to start, I guessed. There was no getting out of it now. No avoiding Fritz and his machinations. No avoiding Drosselmeyer and the commitments I had to fulfill. Not anymore.

I eyed the trash can on my way out the door of the studio. My dance bag wouldn't fit in the opening, but I imagined a dramatic toss of it as I left the studio.

I’d put my dance gear in the back of my closet never to be seen again as soon as I got home. I had expensive tap shoes, and other high end dance gear that was worth a lot of money. I should try to sell it. A bitter burn rose up the back of my throat. That might be more heartache than it was worth.

I didn’t have to decide right now. I could decide later. It’s not like Fritz or my father would know, and the few hundred dollars I might make wouldn’t make a dent in our debt anyway.

No, there was only one way I could truly save my family from ruin. And by ruin, I meant complete financial bankruptcy and social humiliation.

A very heavy weight, like those anvils in cartoons, sunk down onto my shoulders. Tonight was truly the end of any dreams of my own. It was time for me to do the right thing and save the Stahlbaum name. By becoming a Drosselmeyer.

I snuck in the kitchen door on the back of the house hoping to avoid Fritz. It was still early enough that he might not even be up. No luck.

"If you ever try to serve this garbage to me again, you'll--" Fritz threw a piece of toast on the floor at our cook's feet, and I have no doubt he would have smashed the plate too if he hadn't caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye. "Where are you sneaking in from?"

"My, you are wound up today. Throwing a fit because you're not getting any presents from Santa this year?" I stopped being afraid of Fritz's temper tantrums a long time ago. He may be the head of the family since father's illness, but he still acted like a spoiled little boy.

I'm not sure when my own brother began hating me, but I saw it written across his face, and deep in his eyes. This was so much more than simple sibling spats. He genuinely disdained me and everything I did. But he was ever concerned with appearances and wouldn't let even the humblest of servants see the deep ire for me in his soul.

We hadn't liked each other since papa got sick and Fritz had ground the business to dust with his stupidity. I sighed. I shouldn't think that way. It's not as if I could have done any better. What did I know about market economics and financial forecasts? Nothing, zilch, nada. Fritz was doing his best. It was just that his best had us on the verge of bankruptcy.

Right back atcha, bro.

"I would appreciate it, very much, dearest sister, if you could do something to help the family tonight, instead of," he glanced over at the kitchen maid cleaning up and narrowed his eyes at her. He lowered his voice so only I could hear his sneering words, "being your miss high and mighty."

"I'm doing plenty, you've seen to that." I didn't wait for any more of his chastisements and went up the back stairs to my room. Even there I couldn't escape my future.

In the corner, hanging in a long poofy garment bag was my wedding dress. While I hated everything the dress represented, the garment itself was beyond gorgeous. The one and only time I'd gotten to try it on, I'd almost hoped I would look like a frumpy, overdressed, fairy godmother. But instead, I'd felt like a fairy princess.

I wasn't one to stand around and look at myself in mirrors all day. I'd been told one too many times growing up how I was a little too chunky and needed to lose some of that baby fat to not look at each part of my body with a critical eye. But the day I'd tried on that dress for the fitting, I'd stared at my own reflection for probably longer than all the other times combined. I'd felt uniquely beautiful that day. At least Drosselmeyer could give that to me, if not true love.

A little self-confidence and some financial security would have to do.

Both of those were better than unrequited dreams anyway.

The sooner I learned that the better, and today was the day to learn that lesson. I showered and changed into jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. There was still plenty of prep for tonight's party I could help with. I wasn't looking forward to the engagement announcement part of tonight's festivities. I was still just as excited as in my childhood for the gift giving and receiving.

When we'd had more money than we needed, father had upheld the long tradition of giving presents to all the children of the families who attended. In the last few years, Drosselmeyer had helped us continue that act by providing a supply of beautiful artisan toys from his renowned shop. I never could resist any of his automatons or dancing dolls.

It had been a while since I'd gotten a gift myself, but I enjoyed seeing the delight on the new generation when they opened a new surprise. My own collection of hand-crafted dolls had gone to younger girls except for one particular fairy ballerina, in a red and blue Vivandiere costume. The very samea soldier girl in a story about a fantasy land that didn't exist. I should have given her up long ago, but still she sat on the corner of my vanity and hadn't done her little dance in years.

That would be me someday too. A pretty but worn-out toy of Drosselmeyer's.

I headed downstairs and immersed myself in wrapping the presents, decorating the tree, and making sure the house sparkled for our impending guests. It was strange to think I wouldn't even be living in this house next Christmas.

The big grandfather clock in the great room clanged the hour and the front door crashed open, a chilly wind blowing through the rooms, along with snowflakes and the scent of sugar and pine trees. "ClaraMarie, my dear. It's almost time."

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