I desperately needed an opportunity to forget all of the bad shit in my life and just focus on dance. I didn’t want to think about mafia guys, evil step-brothers, or best friend betrayals. I would much rather be pushing my body to its limits, losing myself in the pain, and feeling the satisfaction of achieving a new level of excellence that got me one step closer to perfection.
The ring of my phone interrupted my concentration, but I didn’t mind. I was desperately waiting for a call back from Ryan, but luckily, I glanced at the screen before answering with a snarky comment. The number was local to the Seattle area, but not one I recognized.
“Hello?” I answered cautiously.
“Hello!” a friendly voice called cheerfully. “May I speak with Ekaterina Kotova, please?”
“This is her.” I swallowed back all of my anger and frustration, no need to take out on what seemed like a genuinely nice stranger.
“My name is Pam, and I’m calling from the Ruby Ballet Theater regarding an email that you had sent regarding your interest in attending classes here. Are you still interested?”
I perked up. “Yes, very much so.”
I’d left a phone message with them only a few hours ago to follow up on my email, so I was surprised to hear back so quickly. My heart sunk when I realized it was probably a rejection phone call. It would take much longer to decide to accept me into their program than it would to simply say no.
“Excellent,” Pam responded with a peppy tone. “I’d like to offer you a spot in our summer intensive program, level C. It’s four weeks long and will require four to five hours of class a day. Does that sound like something you could do?”
My jaw dropped in shock. This was unbelievably good news.
“That sounds perfect. When would you like me to audition?” I asked nervously. This might be my only opportunity, so I couldn’t afford to mess it up. Whatever they needed - I’d do it.
“No audition necessary,” she assured me. “But we do require prepayment of all four weeks before classes start.”
My heart sunk. A school that didn’t require an audition made me question how serious they were about training career ballerinas. Amateur classes teaching girls how to put on a pair of pointe shoes wouldn’t help to get me to the professional level - it would just hold me back.
“May I ask what the curriculum is like?” I asked cautiously, keeping my fingers crossed that this would turn out to be the challenge that was critical to keeping my sanity.
“You’ll have technique and pointe classes daily with several of our instructors. In the afternoon, we have variations classes and an exciting lineup of guest instructors that include a former principal dancer from the American Ballet Theater, an instructor from ARC, and several judges from YAGP.”
“Sounds good,” I told her in relief. I wasn’t going to improve by dancing in isolation, and I could use some pointers from a ballerina who had been a principal dancer. YAGP (Youth America Grand Prix) is a national competition that awards scholarships to dance schools based on their performances, but there were also representatives from different companies who made offers directly to competitors. Getting feedback from people used to judging other dancers at my level could help me move ahead of my peers.
Pam collected more information from me, but she hesitated when I told her my current address.
“You live in Bedford?” she questioned.
“Is that a problem?”
Please don’t say that’s a problem. The Ruby Ballet theater was a meager four miles away from Bedford, so I was confident that I could find a way to class every day. If it came down to it, I could always walk. It would suck, but I’d do anything to get back into ballet school.
“No, not at all,” she said quickly. “We just usually don’t get student applications from students who live in Bedford. I’ll email you all the forms I need, and you can pay online.”
I leaned my head against the mirror when I hung up the phone. Finally, something was going right in this mess of a life I had. I’d need to fake my mom’s signature on some of those documents, but that wouldn’t be a problem. I was sixteen; it’s not like I really needed parental supervision, so it was more of a formality, anyway.
My phone vibrated with an incoming text, and my smile disappeared just as quickly as it had come.
Ryan: I think we need time apart.
I dialed Ryan angrily. There was no way he was going to brush me off like this. It only rang once, and then I was sent to voicemail. I fumed. That idiot just declined my call. Not cool.
Ryan: I’ll call you soon.
Me: I need to hear your voice. Don’t be a coward.
I tapped my finger on the phone and waited. Sure enough, it lit up with a call from Ryan, and I swiped to answer it.
“What the fuck?” I asked angrily.
“Katya, calm down.”
“I am calm!” I shouted at him. I realized the irony only a second later and took a deep breath. “Ryan,” I said in an even tone. “What’s going on with you?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot since you’ve been gone. I realized that we’ve been clinging to each other and avoiding life.”
I was shocked at his statement, but also suspicious. It sounded a little too much like what Richard had said to me. “Where’s this coming from?” I asked him.
“It’s coming from the fact that once you left, I realized I had no one else in my life,” he said angrily. “Katya, you left, and I’m completely alone.” His voice broke towards the end, and
