Chapter 4
Lily’s video was worse than I expected.
Not because it was graphic.
Because it was casual.
Brooke was backstage before the competition.
Wearing her warm-up jacket.
Laughing.
She held my shoe in one hand and a tiny metal tack in the other.
Lily’s voice was behind the camera.
“Brooke, that’s too much.”
Brooke smiled.
“Relax. It’s just enough to throw off her balance.”
“What if she gets hurt?”
“She won’t. Poor girls are used to pain.”
My mother covered her mouth.
I felt the room tilt.
Poor girls.
That was what she called me.
Not Hannah.
Not competitor.
Not dancer.
Poor girl.
Brooke slid the tack into my right shoe.
Then added three more to my bag.
“Backup,” she said.
Lily stopped filming.
The video ended.
Nobody spoke.
Mr. Harris looked sick.
Ms. Alvarez looked like she wanted to break something.
My mother’s hands were shaking.
“Why did you record it?” the principal asked Lily.
Lily wiped her face.
“Because Brooke said if Hannah won, everything would be over. She said she couldn’t lose to someone whose mom serves pancakes.”
My mother stood up.
The room went cold.
I reached for her hand.
“Mom.”
She looked down at me.
Her eyes were wet.
“I serve pancakes so you can dance.”
“I know.”
“No,” she whispered. “I need them to know.”
She turned to Mr. Harris.
“I work sixteen-hour days. I clean tables. I carry plates. I smile when people snap their fingers. I do that so my daughter can stand on a stage and be judged for her talent, not my uniform.”
Mr. Harris looked down.
Not because he disagreed.
May you like
Because he was ashamed.
Good.
