12. Bracing for Failure #3
I chance a look away from her and sure enough, Nik is watching us again, eyes darting between me and Lily. “I—I can’t right now,” I say, my voice low.
Lily scoffs. “Please, you’re not getting off the hook that easily.”
Nik calls a one-minute time warning as she continues.
“I was going to wait until after class, but I have to know now. My sister Grace is cheering at the football game tonight. Her best friend Austin is playing, and I was going to ask if you wanted to come? Dillon and Gabriel are in. Nik can’t because he has to be with Irina tonight. So? What do you say?”
“Let’s begin,” Nik announces to the class.
Without thinking, I nod and whisper, “Sure,” in her direction.
Lily squeals and does a little happy dance in place.
“Lily, it’s time to focus,” Nik says, clearly trying to rein her in.
She gives him a mock salute. “Sir, yes sir.”
Nik just rolls his eyes, though I see the corners of his mouth twitch. Honestly, I don’t blame him. It’s probably impossible to stay mad at Lily.
“Let’s begin,” Nik says, stepping forward to demonstrate the next combination.
The rest of class moves along smoothly, without a single correction from him. He doesn’t look my way again, but I can’t stop thinking about the feel of his hands on my body, steady and certain, like they belong there.
The chill from the bleachers seeps deep into my bones. The stadium lights are blinding, and the noise from the crowd presses in from every direction. I try to wrap more of my sweater around myself, but it does little to keep the cold at bay.
After rehearsals, Lily gave me a full run-down on what to wear. She said something cute. I should’ve known better.
Now I’m stuck in an olive-green t-shirt dress and a flimsy gray cardigan, shivering while everyone else seems perfectly fine in jeans and t-shirts.
Lily, of course, looks completely at home.
Her crimson skirt swishes as she moves, her cheer shirt shouts school spirit, and her auburn waves bounce around glitter-dusted cheeks.
She is the embodiment of Pembroke High School pride.
The game hasn’t even started yet, and I’m already regretting saying yes. I feel completely out of place, surrounded by a swarm of loud, crude teenagers. I’ve been bumped into at least ten times, and no one seems to notice or care.
Next to me, Dillon’s trying to explain football. I lose track about two minutes in. I just nod along every now and then to make it seem like I’m following.
In high school, I never went to games like this.
I was always too focused on ballet. Mom would have me come straight home and run combinations until my feet were sore and bleeding.
Back then, I thought giving up nights like these was the right thing to do.
That somehow, it was how I’d earn my future.
But sitting here now, hearing the excitement of the crowd, smelling the food, feeling the chill in the air… I almost understand the appeal. I almost see how this kind of night could be fun.
Lily and Gabriel wander off to grab food, apparently a must at football games.
Thankfully, Gabriel seems to be in a better mood than earlier, and Lily hasn’t let his comments bother her for more than a minute.
I envy that about her. She doesn’t let anything stick.
She just lets it roll right off, like water.
“Wowza, that line was long,” Lily wheezes as she climbs the bleachers, balancing a precarious tower of popcorn, cheesy nachos, and a massive fizzy drink. Gabriel follows close behind, balancing his own stack of food.
Dillon, thankfully, stops rambling about football and stands to help. “Here, let me take that,” he says, relieving her of the nachos.
“Thanks.” Lily grins. “I can now officially report that no popcorn or nachos were harmed during my treacherous trek through the sea of teenagers.”
Dillon chuckles. “A true hero.”
Gabriel plops down beside her and shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “I think I’ve seen zombies pay more attention than half the kids down there. Faces buried in their phones—I doubt they even know they’re at a football game.”
“They’re probably just streaming it,” Dillon adds.
Lily pitches forward, peering around Dillon at me. “Eleanor, are you sure you don’t want anything?”
Dillon’s attention shifts to me too. “Yeah, I can grab you something if you’d like.”
I shudder under their gaze. The thought alone makes my stomach churn. Grease, fake cheese, processed meat. The smell alone is enough. I offer a quick smile and shake my head. “No thanks, I’m good.”
What would my mother say if she saw me eating football game food? She’d probably collapse on the spot. An early grave, courtesy of artificial cheese. I’d probably put that on her headstone.
“An almost beloved mother, killed by her daughter snacking on cheesy nachos.”
I laugh quietly to myself.
The announcer’s voice blares across the field, booming through the stadium. The game is starting.
A wave of crimson and cream bursts from the home side of the field, charging out with electric energy. On the opposite side, their rivals storm in dressed in blue and gold. The crowd erupts into cheers and chants.
Down on the sidelines, pom-poms whip in synchronized circles, and cheerleaders launching into lifts and stunts that look almost impossible. Even as a ballerina, I’m not sure I can pull off half of their tricks.
“Dillon, scooch over, will ya?” Lily blurts, already standing and ready to claim the seat next to me. “There. That’s better.” She smiles brightly.
Dillon has a sad, fleeting look in his eyes. Like he wants to sit next to me. But it’s there and gone so fast, I can’t be sure.
Lily whistles and cheers, pointing to a girl in a crimson-and-cream uniform with the curliest auburn hair I’ve ever seen. “That’s my little sister Grace. She’s a freshman here.”
“She looks so much like you,” I note.
A gust of wind sweeps through the bleachers, sending a hard shiver down my spine. I cross my ankles and hug myself tightly, hoping for warmth.
Lily looks at me like she’s trying not to laugh. “How are you even wearing that right now?” She raises a brow. “It’s like a gazillion degrees out here.”
“You can say that again,” Gabriel adds, sipping his drink. “Aren’t you hot?” he asks, turning to me.
I shrug. “Maybe I’m just cold-hearted,” I say, attempting a laugh, but I’m met with silence.
All three of them stare at me, clearly not getting the joke.
Right. This is why I don’t make jokes.
Before I have the chance to make things more awkward, Lily jumps to her feet and starts waving. “Over here!” she shouts, cupping her hands around her mouth.
Two middle-aged people spot her and begin climbing up the bleachers.
“Sorry we’re late,” the woman says, her short strawberry-blonde bob and bangs framing her face. She pulls Lily into a hug. “My last client ran a bit over.”
“That’s okay,” Lily says, moving on to hug the man with short blond hair and a matching mustache. “It started not long ago. Not much has happened yet.”
The man pats her head affectionately. “It’s good to see you, Pudding.”
He pivots to Gabriel and Dillon with a friendly nod. “Gabriel. Dillon.” Then his eyes land on me and his head tips slightly.
Lily notices because she gestures in my direction. “Mom, Dad—this is Eleanor. She’s one of our new principal dancers at Hollingford.”
Recognition flashes in her mother’s eyes. “Oh,” she says, offering her hand. “Evelyn. It’s so nice to finally meet you. Lily’s said so many good things.”
My cheeks burn. At least I have my embarrassment to keep me warm. “Nice to meet you,” I say, smiling politely as I shake her hand.
Her father steps forward. “Nice to meet you, Eleanor. I’m Richard.” He extends his hand, his tone warm but steady.
“You as well,” I say, accepting his handshake.
Evelyn and Richard nestle between Lily and Dillon.
Evelyn reaches over and plucks a nacho from Lily’s tray. “So, how are you liking Hollingford, Eleanor? Hopefully Nik hasn’t been too much of a pain.” She speaks around a bite, laughing as she looks at me.
“It’s been good so far,” I answer. “Nik’s been… tough, to say the least.”
Lily scoffs beside me. “Tough is one way to put it. He’s like… obsessed with you.”
“Lillian,” Evelyn chides, shooting her a warning look. “Don’t say that.”
Lily rolls her eyes. “Mom,” she says, narrowing her eyes, “he called a random fifteen-minute break today just to be alone with her. If that’s not obsessed, then what is?”
Evelyn leans forward to look at me, one brow raised. “Really?”
“He was helping me with my rond de jambe à terre,” I say promptly, like it’s an excuse I’ve rehearsed a hundred times.
“By the way,” Lily adds, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “You still haven’t spilled the beans on that little moment. I need to know what happened in that room—stat.”
“You don’t need to explain anything, Eleanor,” Evelyn says, though curiosity lingers on her face.