Dance, Sugarplum

5. Lyla

CHAPTER 5

LYLA

ACT 1

Returning to the theater, I feel like a kid heading to Disney—that is if they fell off a ride the last time they were there and were traumatized for life. Excitement sizzles in my veins, the hopes of a new life, a slice of my old life. There’s too much on the line today, and I try to keep myself calm as I park my car.

Rehearsals don’t start for a few days, but the email said to come in, fill out paperwork, and settle in as soon as possible. I head into the theater, knowing I should be more concerned about my appearance. Ballerinas talk after all. But all my thoughts are going toward how close I got to giving up. I was at the edge of the precipice looking down while the bully inside my head was telling me to jump.

Go back with Carter.

Give up ballet altogether .

It whispered a lot of things in my ear, and today, I’m thankful I was strong enough to ignore it.

I don’t want to look nervous, so I school my expression as I step into the theater. Right at the door, I find a sheet of paper leading me to the right for this season’s cast, and when I follow the arrow, I dare to smile shyly, even if my hands still tremble.

Still daydreaming about a glorious return, I almost miss him coming my way. After all the presents and notes, we’ve never met face-to-face.

It’s hard not to think of Mikhail as my savior, the man who literally plucked me out of the clutches of my evil stepfather. He saw something in me years ago, and he obviously still sees it if I’m here today.

I watch him walk, a good foot taller, looking sharp in an expensive suit. He eats the space between us without looking up, but my eyes follow him with hunger.

The man, the savior, the impossible director.

Mikhail is many things, but to me, he’s the reason I’m still standing. It’s an ill-lit corridor. I can barely make out his features, but he can’t miss me since it’s too narrow.

I want to assure him I’m not a mistake. I know I can be the best once again, and with him by my side, I can show them all what I can do.

He comes so close that I smell his cologne—something sinfully masculine. I shake all over and open my mouth. My gratitude is on the tip of my tongue, but Mikhail steps away from me, never looking up.

Everything shrivels and dies inside me, and I stop in my tracks, watching him over my shoulder as he disappears down the hall. It’s a second suspended in time. The reality versus the dream collide in front of my nose.

I’m an idiot.

I thought he knew who I was. I thought this meant something, but I should know better than to think I have a hero out there looking out for me. I stay longer than I should standing there before I roll my eyes.

“Grow up, Lyla.”

I head to the offices, and a kind woman in her fifties helps me fill out a series of forms. I hate filling out forms, but I hate even more that I have to lie. I’m not a good liar, despite what the whole town thinks. My palms start to sweat so much that the pen slides from my hand and drops to the paper.

That catches her attention, and she looks at me over her glasses. “Problem, dear?”

“Oh, I, uh, moved recently,” I tell her, thinking more quickly on my feet than I usually do. The encounter with Carter still has my adrenaline high. “I just need to look up the address of my new building.”

“Sure.” She smiles as I pull open my phone and write the address for the local post office and then hand it over to her.

“Is there an apartment number?”

“No,” I answer.

“Lucky girl,” she says with a wink. Very few people in this city have a residence without an apartment number attached, and they’re all absurdly wealthy. I can’t blame her for my own lie, but it sits heavy in my empty stomach.

“Yeah, definitely to be cast in an Ivanov Christmas production.”

“Oh, of course.” She smiles like I’m a wonderfully humble and polite heiress when really I’m a liar without a home.

I smile too and step away right when more members come in. I sit over in the corner, pretending I’m not jealous they all know each other already, and finish filling up the rest of the forms. Once I’m done, I head back to the dressing room to grab a permanent cubby.

The door opens right when I reach the same cubby I had yesterday, and the cast comes in. The group from before and more. Soon, we are all here, but that sense of belonging never really reaches me. This is my home. This is where I used to feel more like myself, but now I hang by the back. I try to make myself smaller.

Of all the things Carter took from me, this hurts the most. He made me less me .

Their chatter fills the room and leaves me with the deepest sense of emptiness. I worked so hard and took for granted what it really meant to be the best, to have community and be someone people looked up to. I have so many regrets that I can barely count them all with both hands. It’s not fair that even this is taken from me. I came here to fight for what is mine, and I’m tired of them talking behind my back.

“Oh my God. Can you believe she made it?”

I wince and try to remember that I don’t know for sure they’re talking about me. I don’t look their way. I tip my head and sort through my cubby.

They are nothing.

“Do you think she’s on drugs? Why does she look like that?”

“Maybe she thinks he’ll take her back if she?—”

I swallow the colorful curse I have trapped in my throat and concentrate on what I’m here to do. Yesterday in my haste to leave after that disastrous audition, I left some clothes behind. They are still here, thankfully. It’s not like I can afford anything new. I pull the dirty clothes out and slam the door shut, drawing an abrupt end to the conversation and a salacious giggle out of the girls making fun of me.

I turn around as my fingers clench the fabric in my stress, and they crunch…

The girls stare at me as I look down at my hand. The underwear in my hands are stained. There’s something crusted and dried on them. It looks like someone blew their nose in them.

What the actual fuck?

I can’t take it anymore. I’m already down, but they keep kicking me. I wanted to do this with the little dignity I have left, but apparently, I’m not granted even that small mercy.

I lost my mother, my family, friends, my livelihood, and the man I loved like a father. It happened all at once, and since the day Carter touched me, nothing has worked out my way.

The emotions are bubbling out of me, and I can’t keep them down. My hands shake, while one still holds the horrifying crusty panties. The texture rubbing against my skin is the final straw.

“You guys think this is funny?” I ask them, waving the possibly glue-soaked fabric in the air.

This is what they think about me. I’m not a person to them anymore. I’m just something they are allowed to tease and bully. I never came on to Carter, so the fact they assume I was the guilty party and not the man who has known me since I was twelve is insane. They keep dehumanizing me, stripping me from everything so their aggression is justified.

“You’re touching other people’s panties, and I’m the issue? Fucking creepy,” I spit at them as I turn on my heel and decide to get dressed in the bathroom.

I throw the underwear in the trash and shake with rage as I change. This juvenile prank went too far. They seemed surprised I was back but not that surprised if they left something for me to find. What was the point of that? To remind me of my past? Believe me, I will never forget.

I wish I had chosen a different cubby. I wish I said more. All the things I left unsaid for the past two years are trapped inside me, waiting to come out. I mouth them to myself when I’m alone at night and sleep doesn’t come. I rehearse them more than any choreography. I have so much to say, yet I fear no one will ever listen.

People are cruel, I tell myself, shaking myself off after getting dressed.

Things are never going to be the same. I’m not the same Lyla from before, and today was my wake-up call. They will always look at me like something that needs to be squashed.

I grab the rehearsal schedule and find there’s a sheet to sign up for solo time in the studios. I scribble my name for a few hours each day until they officially begin. I will prove myself to them all. They will swallow everything they ever said about me.

And no one is taking it away.