Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Ice Cream Recipes
About the Author
Sneak Peek at Donut Go Breaking My Heart
Also by Suzanne Nelson
Copyright
“Okay, ladies!” Ms. Faraday called, standing in front of the studio’s mirror. “Pas de chat now. One, two, three, and …”
I took a deep breath and pushed off my left foot into a leap to the side. Returning my feet to fifth position, I repeated the movement. My heart hopped along in time, already anticipating the brisés and grand jetés that would follow these smaller warm-up jumps. I enjoyed the barre work that began every ballet class, and the waltzes and pirouettes that followed as we moved to center work. The jumping, though, had always been my favorite.
“Lovely, Malie,” Ms. Faraday said, and I smiled at her praise, especially since she didn’t give it easily.
I focused on my reflection in the mirror. Every part of me—my black leotard, pink tights, gauzy pink skirt, and pink ballet slippers; my thick black hair pulled tightly into its sleek bun; my determined and glittering dark eyes … they all needed to convey serious dancer.
“Arresting eyes,” my dad had said the day I was born. “Full of purpose.” Only none of us knew what kind of purpose, until my very first ballet class. I felt it the moment I gripped the barre and did my first plié. Dance felt like a long-lost memory, like something that had been a part of me forever. And that was it. At age four, I was a goner.
I noticed my left wrist sagging slightly and adjusted it, wanting nothing less than perfection. From the corner of my eye, I could see Violet Olsen’s jumps, which were nearly flawless. There were twenty dancers in our class, but Violet and I were the most advanced. Having her next to me made me work that much harder, and the sweat that had been pricking my temples before began to flow in earnest. My thighs and calves burned, but it was a feeling I relished, one that meant my muscles were working.
“Libby, watch your retiré,” Ms. Faraday told one of my other classmates. “Extend your right leg. That’s better.”
Now it was time to finish with fouettés. Tchaikovsky’s overture to Swan Lake drifted through the air, my pulse hummed, and everything fused—the music, my mind, my body—until my bends and arcs melded into fluid motion. I forgot about the bodies spinning around me, the hardness of the floor beneath my feet, the sweat trickling down my forehead. There was nothing but the exhilaration of dance, the one thing I loved more than anything in the world.
I was so absorbed that it took me a few seconds to register Ms. Faraday calling the class to a close.
“Well done, darlings.” We all applauded, as we did at the end of every class. She nodded toward each of us in turn. “I have some news. First, I know you’ve all been waiting to hear which ballet we’ll be performing this spring.”
Every year, the Marina Springs Conservatory performed a ballet in the grand theater in town. Last year, it had been Sleeping Beauty.
“Swan Lake?” Libby called out from behind me.
“Coppélia?” Natalie asked from across the room.
“Romeo and Juliet?” I ventured.
Ms. Faraday shook her head, smiling. “Cinderella!” she announced. There were squeals around the studio. When the noise died down, Ms. Faraday added, “Auditions will be held on May first from three to eight p.m. I hope every one of you auditions.”
Adrenaline flooded my veins. Cinderella. Maybe this year I would finally be chosen as the principal ballerina! I’d tried out for principal last year, but Violet had gotten the part; I’d been in the chorus—the corps de ballet. Violet was really good. Her posture was always ramrod straight, even as she walked the hallways of Marina Springs Middle School, where we both went. Her legs were long and graceful, and she kept her red hair perpetually pulled back in a knot, like she was ever ready to perform. I had to admit to her talent. It was her attitude that I’d never much liked. I could see it on her face now—the confident smirk-smile that said she knew she was a shoo-in for Cinderella. At this year’s auditions, I vowed silently, I was going to give her plenty of competition.
“Now for the second announcement.” Ms. Faraday pressed her palms together. “It pains me to say it, my dears, but I’m leaving you.”
My heart dipped to my toes. I’d known this moment might be coming; Ms. Faraday was elderly, and there had been rumors swirling around the conservatory that she would be retiring soon. But Ms. Faraday had been my ballet teacher for the past eight years. I couldn’t imagine dancing without her. Protests rose up in gasps and hushed “no’s.”
Ms. Faraday smiled sadly. “I’ve been teaching nearly half a century, and it’s high time I retired.” Her voice trembled only slightly. “But not to worry! The conservatory has already found a superbly qualified replacement. An email will be sent to your parents with details. And you have the audition to focus on. So I don’t want anyone wasting a moment in gloom. Understood?” Reluctant nods swept the room. “All right, then. Monday will be my last class with you. We will make it our best one yet. Now.” She waved her hands toward the studio door. “Shoo, shoo.”
A couple of girls left, but many lingered, forming a forlorn circle around Ms. Faraday. I stayed on the outskirts of the circle, and so, I noticed, did Violet.
There’d been many times over the years when Ms. Faraday had devoted extra time to me after class, working with me on my form or a particular dance combination. She’d pushed hard, but I’d welcomed the challenge. Now I hoped to thank her in a one-on-one moment. Violet, though, stepped in front of me
