Dance of Shadows (27 page)

Death moved toward Anna. “It’s okay that Zep’s attentions have turned elsewhere.” His voice was muffled by the mask, but a wave of relief passed through Vanessa. It wasn’t Zep after all, but Justin.

“Get over your broken heart and get the hell out of here,” Justin was saying.

“I can’t leave,” Anna said. “I’m not strong enough.”

Justin motioned to Lincoln Center, his robes swaying in the wind. “You’re not alone up there onstage—there are all those dancers who have gone before.”

But Anna only shook her head. With a sob, she clutched the bouquet of flowers to her chest and ran through the courtyard, petals scattering after her.

Justin growled in frustration. It was a cold sound, one Vanessa recognized from the way he sometimes talked to her. Suddenly she felt angry. Her legs moved without conscious thought until she found herself standing before him.

“What did you just tell Anna? You’re trying to turn everyone against Zep.” The words tumbled out of Vanessa’s mouth before she realized what she was saying. “What is your problem? Why are you so hateful?”

Justin seemed taken aback by her presence. “You don’t understand what you’re talking about,” he said.

Ignoring his comment, Vanessa persisted. “I know why you follow me around. You’re jealous of him.”

Justin let out a laugh. “I’m not jealous of anyone,” he said. “And I know all about you and what happens when you dance—the way you lose yourself. You’re not the only one to experience that, you know.”

Vanessa was about to interrupt him when she realized what Justin had just said. Who could have told him?

Justin studied her. “See, I know things about you too,” he said. “People are talking about it, people like Josef. It’s dangerous. That’s why you got the part, not because of—”

“Shut up!” Vanessa shouted.

Justin stopped talking in midsentence, to Vanessa’s surprise. “The only dangerous things here are the lies that come out of your mouth.” And with that, she turned and ran after Anna.

She made it across the plaza just in time to see Anna’s blond hair disappearing into the Lincoln Center ballet building. Vanessa watched her through the glass as she crept through the lobby, flashing her pass at the security guard. She was heading to the basement practice room.

Vanessa was about to follow her when she saw something moving behind her, reflected in the glass. She spun around, but the plaza was empty.

“Justin?” she said. “I know you’re following me.”

Beneath a pillar, the shadows shifted, but no one emerged. Still, she could feel someone watching her.

Vanessa stepped toward the shadow, but then stopped. If it was Justin, why did she care? Turning back to the doors, she flashed her pass at the security guard and hurried into the warmth of the lobby.

Walking nervously past the box office window, she stole down the stairs to the practice studio. All was dark save for a glimmer of light shining through the cracked door. Vanessa slipped off her shoes and inched soundlessly forward until she could see the pink of Anna’s tights. She was standing in the middle of the floor, over the scorched circle in the center. Around her, the walls were still burned black, the white figures still frozen on the wall.

Anna was bent over, her back to Vanessa. Willing the floor not to creak, Vanessa leaned in, trying to see what she was doing.

Anna lowered the bouquet of roses onto the floor, the white
petals already beginning to wilt. Why had Justin given them to her, Vanessa wondered. Anna brushed tears from her cheek and touched her fingers to the burned scar in the wood. She stifled a sob as she stood up, her makeup streaked with tears.

Vanessa ducked back into the shadows as the door opened and Anna stepped into the hallway, her outline barely visible in the darkness. She was so close that Vanessa could smell the floral shampoo she used on her hair. Vanessa held her breath and waited until she’d gone, until all that was left of Anna was the floral scent, dissipating into nothing.

In Vanessa’s mind, the last two months had unfolded like a ballet.

In the first act, the ballerina meets her prince, a handsome gentleman with eyes the color of metal. Against all odds, they fall in love.

Then, in act two, tragedy strikes. They’re separated by evil forces, plotting to keep them apart. And then her prince begins to act strange, unpredictable. A weeping maiden runs off with a bouquet, roses white as bone. She places it in the center of a stage, atop a black spot of ash from a long-ago flame.

In the third act, everything would come back together. The the ballerina would be reunited with her prince, the ballerina’s sister would return from her long journey into the underworld, and all would end in happiness. Or … everything could fall
apart. It all depended on what kind of ballet it was—a romance or a tragedy.

After Vanessa watched Anna run from the basement studio, she peered out into the hallway, listening for the sound of Anna returning, but all was quiet. Slowly, she crept into the studio. The lights shone down on the bouquet of white roses. She gently lifted the petals, searching for a card—anything that might give her a clue as to who they were for—but there was nothing.

She left the flowers in the center of the studio and crept outside as Steffie and TJ appeared in front of the building, two white wraiths against the marble.

“TJ?” Vanessa asked, recognizing her wild curls. “Steffie? What are you doing here?”

“I saw you run in there after Anna,” Steffie said.

“And I followed Steffie,” TJ added. “Anna just left.”

“Did she see you?” Vanessa said, trying to hide the panic in her voice.

“Hey, give me some credit,” TJ said, balancing on the marble ledge that lined the walkway. “I can be discreet, too, you know.”

Vanessa let out a sigh. “Sorry,” she said. “I know.”

“So Anna was crying because she still loves Zep?” Steffie said, removing her eyeliner with a damp cloth.

They had retreated to Vanessa and TJ’s room, and Vanessa had told them everything.

“I guess so,” Vanessa said, fidgeting with her towel, which was streaked with face paint. “But then who were the flowers for?”

“Maybe …” TJ gazed at Vanessa in the mirror. “Maybe they were for Zep. Maybe they—”

“I thought about that,” Vanessa said quietly. “But why would she leave him flowers that Justin gave her? And why on that spot? You should have seen the way she was crying. It was like she was visiting a grave, like she was in mourning.”

“Why don’t you just ask Zep?” Steffie asked as she wiped white makeup from her face with a washcloth. “If anyone can tell you what’s going on with Anna, it’s him.”

“Because I haven’t seen him since rehearsal the other day,” Vanessa admitted, embarrassed.

“Why don’t you just call him?” Steffie said.

“I—I will,” Vanessa said, not wanting to tell them he never picked up. TJ caught her eye in the mirror, her gaze sympathetic, but Vanessa looked away.

“Sounds like he’s hard to pin down,” Steffie said.

“Oh no,” Vanessa said. “It’s not that. He just—” But she didn’t know how to finish.

“If I were you,” Steffie said, her lips still black in places, her brown skin emerging from the white makeup, “I’d be careful. My mom always says to watch out for guys with secrets. And Zep definitely has plenty of those.”

Vanessa went rigid. “What do you mean?”

Steffie wiped her lips with a washcloth and inspected herself in the mirror. “But the big question,” she pressed, ignoring Vanessa, “is why was Justin trying to convince Anna to leave?”

“Because Justin is a jerk!” Vanessa said loudly. “He’s jealous of Zep. He’s probably trying to date Anna now that she’s all vulnerable. He kept rubbing her back, trying to comfort her. Maybe that’s why he gave her the bouquet of flowers.”

“Maybe,” TJ said. “Justin could like her. But don’t you think it’s all a little suspicious?” TJ sat on her bed, coiling a lock of hair around her finger. “What if Justin is right that there’s something strange going on at this school? Something feels wrong.”

“All I’m sure of for now is that none of this has anything to do with Zep,” Vanessa said hotly. “This is about Anna and Justin.”

Steffie rolled her eyes. “So, you’d rather think that some sort of evil conspiracy is happening at this school than consider the possibility that Zep might not be loyal to you?”

Her words stung, but Vanessa shook them off. “Until I hear differently from him,” she said, “that is exactly what I’ll believe.” She sounded tough and sure of Zep, but that was only because of how very scared she was that Steffie was right.

November began with rain and continued overcast and drizzly for the next three days. Vanessa ran through it on Monday afternoon to the
Firebird
rehearsal, holding a newspaper over her head like a proper New Yorker. She shook the water from
her hair, still half expecting to see the bouquet of flowers on the floor of the basement practice room. But when she arrived, all she saw was a flock of girls in leotards and tights, stretching and warming up, paying no heed to the burned black spot, which lay in the midst of it all like a dark eye.

Vanessa dropped her bag in the corner of the room, searching for Zep, but he was nowhere to be seen. In fact, she hadn’t seen him since the last rehearsal, the Friday before Halloween, three days ago. She began lacing up her pointe shoes, trying not to look over her shoulder every time the door opened.

Just as the clock struck four, Hilda lumbered into the room. She wore a clear rain bonnet over her frizzy hair, and her shoes squeaked against the wood floor. Directly behind her stood Justin.
What is he doing here?
Vanessa wondered. The morning rehearsals were for the entire company, including the understudies, but the afternoon sessions were usually only for the primary
Firebird
company—the thirteen princesses, Vanessa, and Zep. Justin must have sensed her thoughts, because the sides of his mouth turned up into a smirk, as if to remind her that he knew something she didn’t. To her surprise, he sat down just feet away from her, and without further acknowledging her, he began to stretch.

“So who did you have to threaten to get into afternoon rehearsals this week?” Vanessa said to him, surprised at how cruel her words sounded.

Justin glanced over at her. “Oh, Vanessa. Hi,” he said, giving her a smug smile that made her insides boil. “Alas, no threats were required this time.”

“What do you mean?” Vanessa said, narrowing her eyes. “Understudies haven’t been coming to the afternoon sessions.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Of course it’s my business,” Vanessa said. “I’m the lead dancer.”

“And from what I hear, you should probably focus on that, because the word on the street is that you still need a bit of work.”

Vanessa felt her face grow hot with rage. “As if you know what it’s like to dance a lead role,” she snarled. “You’ve barely left the practice barre since school started.”

“That’s not good news for you, then,” Justin said cryptically, and stood up.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see.”

“See what?” Vanessa asked, but before he could respond, Hilda clapped her hands.