Violet’s eyes widened. “Wait. You’re still auditioning? I didn’t think you could if you weren’t officially enrolled in a group class?” Her mouth was a thin line of barely masked annoyance.
“I’m not sure how it worked out,” I improvised. I didn’t feel comfortable telling her about the exception that had been made for me. “And the thing is, if I make it, it will be a great surprise for Mom. She’s been stressed lately. I thought it would cheer her up.” Aue. Oh no. I was digging a deeper and deeper hole.
“A surprise for sure,” Violet said. She put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently, as if she were being a supportive bestie. “It’s so cute that you have such spirit. I know we’re going to need a whole troop of mice. You’d look adorbs in whiskers.”
“Thanks,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’ll be glad to have any part.”
Violet nodded. “Always a good idea not to set your expectations too high. Though I’m pretty much a shoo-in for Cinderella.”
“How do you know?”
“Oh, Signora Benucci’s hinted,” she said offhandedly. “Not officially. I have to audition. Protocol and all.” She tipped her head down. “Anyway, everyone deserves a fair chance. I wouldn’t feel right about being the principal ballerina if I hadn’t earned it.”
“No. I’m sure you wouldn’t.” I had my backpack in a death grip now. “I should get going.” I turned for the door, then paused. “Um, could you please not say anything to my mom about seeing me here, or my lessons?”
“Absolutely! I’d never do anything to spoil your surprise.” She pressed a finger to her lips. “Sealed.”
“Thanks,” I said as I let myself out. I tried not to dwell on my run-in with Violet, but dread shadowed me for the whole walk. I didn’t trust her, and now she was privy to my biggest secret. So. Not. Good.
“I’m here!” I called, opening the back door to the kitchen. Mom was going to be seriously peeved that I was late. I’d tried to hurry, but my toes were so sore from ballet that my walk had turned into a hobble. “Sorry I’m la—”
My words were lost in the sound of singing. Mom’s singing. I stopped, frozen. Mom was stirring cookie bits into a container of soft, freshly made ice cream. And … she was singing. Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love a Bad Name.” Her hips swayed to the rhythm, and she smiled to herself as she stirred.
“Mom?”
She jumped, then looked up at me sheepishly. “Oh, Malie. I didn’t hear you.”
“Obviously.” I laughed, stepping inside. “Somebody’s in a good mood.”
Mom quit stirring to grab me in a spontaneous hug. “You’re not going to believe what happened. Mr. Sneeves stopped by a few minutes ago.”
“Wait.” I pulled away from her, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Mom, do you have a fever? Are you actually happy he stopped by?”
Mom giggled. “He told me he was impressed, keiki! He used that word. ‘Impressed.’ Our sales have doubled in the last two weeks. Can you believe it?”
“No …”
Mom dipped a tasting spoon into the ice cream and held it out to me. “It’s the flavors Lanz is coming up with, and his gelatos. Yesterday’s new flavor was honey lavender, today it’s Cartellata. Here. Try.”
I slid the spoon into my mouth. Cinnamon cookie bits interspersed with honey-flavored gelato. “That’s flawless.”
“I know!” Mom snapped the lid onto the container. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure about Lanz’s ideas, but the customers can’t get enough of his flavors. And our catering orders have doubled, too. Having Lanz’s help has made all the difference.”
“That’s great.” I squeezed Mom’s hand. Her eyes were bright. She looked relaxed for the first time in weeks.
She slipped an arm around my shoulders. “I’ve been thinking about the school carnival, too. It’s tomorrow night, isn’t it?”
I nodded. I’d mentioned it to her once, but when she had given me her usual, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think you’re going to be able to go” spiel, I’d let it drop.
“You don’t have to remind me,” I said now. “I know we’re going to have to work late.”
She brushed at a strand of hair that had come loose from my ponytail. “Not what I was going to say.” Her smile widened. “I was going to say that since things are running so smoothly with the parlor, and we’re ahead in our monthly sales already, I can spare you tomorrow night. If you still want to go to the carnival, that is?” Her eyes twinkled.
“Really?” When she nodded, I hugged her until she laughed and cried for mercy. “Thanks, Mom! This is going to be so great. I can’t wait to tell Lanz!”
She blinked, giving me a curious look. “You mean Ethan?”
“Oh!” I slapped my forehead. “Yes! Ethan!” How had Lanz’s name slipped out? “I’m going to text him right now.” I pulled out my phone.
As my thumbs flew over the keys, Mom continued, “Do you see now what a good thing it is that you quit dance? The shop’s doing better. You have free time for your school project with Tilly and for fun with your friends.”
My thumbs froze. I hated that I was lying to her, still. “Mom, the fact that things are better has nothing to do with me quitting dance,” I said. Maybe I could somehow steer the conversation to the truth …
“But you’ve been able to focus your energies elsewhere, and it’s made a difference.” She looked thoughtful, and suddenly, a little sad. “I know what it’s like to waste moments wishing for something that
