Page 10 of Stripped

"Well, Peter isn't here. He's out sick today and I'm in charge."

Pim paused. She knew he might be hungover, but he never missed work. He was too much of a control freak. 'I watched him put something in your drink, so I switched them.' The first inkling of doubt wormed its way into her mind.

"I want you to leave," Zoya continued. "You can return on Thursday. Right now, you're a liability."

Pim felt the heat in her face rise. She grabbed her bag and started for the door.

Zoya stopped her. She spoke in a hushed whisper. "I know you and your grandfather had something to do with Irina slipping."

"No, we didn't."

"Don't you think it seems suspicious that she was hurt, and you were suddenly given the starring role?"

"Irina slipping was an accident."

"Someone tampered with the floor."

"You're wrong," Pim said.

"Am I? I'll make sure you pay for this." The woman turned to the class. "Catriona," Zoya said. "You'll take Pim's place in rehearsal today. Paul will partner you."

Niall stood at the door, looking abashed. "I'm sorry, Rosy."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault."

"I have tragic news," Zoya continued to speak to the company. "Irina was admitted to hospital this morning. She tried to take her own life. The doctors told her with the fracture to her ankle, she would never dance again, and it was all too much for her to handle."

Several dancers gasped, and a few burst into tears.

Pim shut the door behind herself, letting her own tears finally flow. There were certain company members who already suspected she had something to do with Irina's injury. She didn't, of course, but now with the attempted suicide, it explained the vandalism to her locker. Irina had always been chilly toward her. However, she still admired and respected the prima ballerina. Pim understood one didn't get Irina's title without hard work and sacrifice. She changed her shoes and pushed open the main door of the center. The sun was now covered by a thick layer of clouds. Its feeble attempt to show itself this morning, overrun by a steady current of sorrow. She pulled the hood up on her coat, covering her head to block out the light drizzle, and made her way home.

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