“Congratulations, Malie.” He beamed at me, and I felt my heart jump again. “You did it! Your wish came true.”
“You’re right. Except …” I trailed off and blushed, not sure I had the courage to do what I was about to do. I felt as nervous as Cinderella before the ball.
“Except what?”
“I have another wish.”
He whistled. “Now you’re being greedy.” I laughed, then he added, “If you need another wish granted, you better go find your fairy godmother.”
I shook my head and my face blazed, but I pushed on. “Only you can grant me this wish.” I stepped closer to him.
His eyes twinkled, but his face was serious. “What is this wish?”
“To have a kiss.”
“From Prince Charming?”
I rolled my eyes. “This Cinderella doesn’t need a prince to rescue her. But …” I smiled. “I’ll take the kiss. From you.”
“Now that,” he whispered as he cupped my face in his hands, “is one fantastico wish.”
He brought my lips to his, and the world spun. This was magic. Not fairy-tale magic, but a better kind—the kind that was real.
I stood in the wings, staring out at the stage. A dozen dancers in mouse costumes were taking their marks, getting ready for the curtain to rise. Behind them was a painted backdrop showing the castle, and an elaborately constructed fireplace prop. In just a few minutes, I’d be dancing by that fireplace, sweeping imaginary cinders from its glowing hearth.
“Hold still for one more second,” Jen, the conservatory’s seamstress, said around the needle and thread between her teeth. She was sewing me into the first of the five costumes I’d be wearing tonight—this one a long-skirted peasant dress that Cinderella wore before her transformation from servant to princess.
The backstage area buzzed with activity. Parent volunteers rushed from one dressing room to another, carrying heaps of tulle and sequined costumes while dancers added final sweeps of blush or lipstick to their stage makeup.
“Does anyone have more bobby pins?” Natalie, aka Cinderella’s stepmother, called out as she fussed over a strand of hair that had sprung loose from her bun. One of the stepsisters came to her aid while the other panicked over a snag in her tights.
“One more pic,” Violet said as she snapped a selfie with her friends, and then immediately set about posting it on social media.
Other dancers were stretching, or lacing up their pointe shoes. It was blissful chaos—the kind that made my blood sing with energy. I’d already gotten my good-luck hugs from Tilly, Andres, Mom, and Lanz. Andres had promised to film the entire ballet so that I could send it to Dad later, and so that Ethan and Eve could watch it when they got back from the Invention Convention. When the curtain rose, so many people I loved would be just beyond the spotlight in the front row, watching as I took my first steps as Cinderella.
Now, in these few minutes before the show began, I wanted to stand here, absorbing every detail and emotion of this moment. A few weeks ago, Cinderella had been my impossible dream, but now—at long last—the dream was happening.
“There,” Jen said, and I felt a tug at my waist as she snapped off the last of her sewing threads. “All set.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, reaching into my core to bring up the strength and energy I’d need for the next two hours. Then I touched my hand to the delicate necklace Signora Benucci had allowed me to wear with my costumes—the necklace Lanz had given me. It felt like a good luck charm.
Signora Benucci stepped to my side then. “Are you nervous?” she asked.
“Excited,” I said with a smile. “Beyond excited.”
She smiled. “This is your moment, Malie. You’ve worked so very hard for it. Now. Savor it.”
The opening music started, and Signora Benucci stepped into the shadows, blowing me a kiss with both her hands.
The curtain rose, and I bourréed onto the stage as the ballet began.
It was like my dreams, only better. If my dreams were a stream of wishes, then this was an ocean—vast, powerful, and more beautiful than anything my imagination could conjure. I danced my way through the story of the cinder-girl transformed into a princess. I moved across the stage as the spotlight beamed down, dust motes glimmering gold around me like fairy lights.
I didn’t feel the heat of the lights. I didn’t feel the strain of the effort from my performance. My muscles, breath, heartbeat, bones—all of them were tuned to the swelling melodies. If it were possible, I would’ve wanted this performance to last forever. But all too soon, the final movement began.
My pas de deux partner, Will, raised me into a final lift, holding me so high that the spotlight felt like sun on my face. Below me, the rest of the company twirled on their toes, spinning in the grand finale.
My smile grew as Will slowly spun me to face the audience. I couldn’t see Mom’s gaze, but I could feel it—proud and full of love.
The music peaked in the final, rich note. I stretched my arms wider, extended my legs and back, making my body one long, graceful arc. I was a dancer, a dreamer. I was Cinderella.
The curtain slowly descended, and the audience exploded in applause. As soon as the red velvet brushed the floor, relieved laughter and hugs broke out among all us dancers. Will slowly lowered me to the floor and we congratulated each other and everyone around us. Then the company formed lines for our bows.
I waited at the back of the stage as the curtain rose again, and each line of dancers stepped forward to curtsy and bow. Finally, the rows parted in the middle to reveal me at the back. I walked to the front of the stage, then curtsied low to the audience.
The applause grew. I squinted down to see the front row, where Tilly
