Page 28 of 1 Last Shot

I try to fix it but quickly realize I have zero handyman abilities. It doesn’t help that a thought in the back of my head keeps nagging me, keeps reminding me that in New York, my reaction would’ve beenit doesn’t matter, I’ll just have the maid fix it today and have my driver stop for Starbucks on the way to the school.

After a few minutes, I toss the screw in my hand on to the counter and make my breakfast instead.

I burn my eggs.

“I give up,” I mutter angrily.

I manage to keep my sour mood to a minimum while I pack my clothes for the day and drive to the ballet school—stopping at Starbucks for a coffee and breakfast sandwich. I breathe a sigh of relief when I walk into the familiar environment.

Class is… effortless. When I tie my pointe shoes, I feel like I’m stepping into my own skin, and being the person I’m meant to be. All the stress from my move and my morning melts from my skin, and I feel excited to do what I’ve always felt I was meant to do.

I know my technique is exceptional today because Mrs. Martin gives me almost no critiques. The stiff-lipped old woman merely gives me a nod of approval.

Once class is over, I’m pulling on a few extra layers when I overhear some of the girls in the student program talking in a small group as they get ready for their class. I don’t mean to listen, but my attention catches on their topic.

“I just wish I coulddosomething,” one of the young girls whines. “I’ve been killing myself with dance my whole life, done everything my teachers have said without question, and itstillfeels like it’s not enough. I don’t know what else to do. It’s like your actual dance technique and style barely matters when you’re trying to get into these big dance schools. But Ihaveto get into that one. Everyone knows you can’t get into the good companies later unless you went to one of their pre-approved schools.”

“I’m sure you’ll get a call back,” another girl consoles. “You’re the best dancer in this school, they’d be crazy not to give you an audition.”

At that, one of the girls in the group shoots a glance my way. I duck my head to avoid her gaze.

I didn’t exactly hide my dance status when I joined the Philly company. I was big enough that my name was recognized fairly often, so it didn’t take long for whispers to spread that the girl who fell from grace with a horrific injury was now attending their school. But it wasn’t a secret that pre-injury, I was better than every girl in here, with all the best connections.

Except, I had zero intention of flaunting any of that when I started here, since it felt like I had nothing to flaunt. I was just a washed-up dancer looking for a new place in the world.

But I know exactly what that glance means. And even though making friends feels a little foreign in this environment, what with dancers always competing with each other for a better spot, I make a split second decision to offer my help.

Straightening from where I’ve finished packing up my bag, I say loudly, “I can make a call, if you’d like.”

The girl in question whips around to stare at me. “Are you serious?”

I nod. “I still have some contacts there. I can get you an audition.”

Her eyes widen and her lips part in surprise. “Just like that? You can justgetme an audition?”

I pause at her comment. I was just trying to make a nice gesture, show them I’m not here as competition—it didn’t occur to me that I might be offering something that’s unheard of for them.

I pick awkwardly at my sweater. “I mean, I graduated from there and was still visiting sometimes when… when everything happened. So I still have the contact information of the admission board.” I force myself to stop fidgeting and give the girl a blank stare. “Do you want me to call them or not?”

An immediate blush heats her face. “Yes, please, that would be great. Thank you so much, Isabella.”

I nod. “You’re welcome.”

I can’t get out of there fast enough. And it isn’t until I get through lunch and walk into the yoga studio to teach my class that I realize why.

My boss Tanya is standing behind the reception desk when I walk in. She looks up and smiles when she sees me, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hey,” I greet her, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. "Everything okay?"

She nods, but it's stiff. "Yeah, everything's fine. I just wanted to talk to you about your paycheck onboarding. Did you log into that website I gave you and upload your financial information?"

For the second time today, I’m shuffling awkwardly.

"Umm, I did, but I didn't have some of the information on hand, so I couldn't submit it." I don't add that I'm waiting for my mom to provide the information.

Tanya gives me a hard look. "I need that filled out this week, Isabella. I can't pay you until that's in our system."

I give her an apologetic smile. “Of course, I understand. I'll get it done today."

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