15. ControlCrumble #2
“You’re a bad liar,” Nik says with a small smirk, nodding toward the door. “Go. I think you might like what you see.” Then he returns to Kasper and Russell.
I’m not able to process how easily he reads me. Maybe my walls aren’t as strong as I think.
Slowly, I make my way into the hallway. Some dancers are leaping for joy, others clinging to the edge of tears.
Lily comes bounding up and grabs my hand. “Oh my gosh, have you seen it yet?” she asks.
“No, I just came out here,” I say, trying to steady my breath.
Lily doesn’t waste a second. She drags me toward the list. “Look!” she squeaks.
I inhale a deep breath, scanning the names.
Eleanor………………………………………..Odette
Then I look at the line below it.
Eleanor………………………………………..Odile
My breath stops short. Odette and Odile? Is this… some kind of sick ploy? It must be a mistake.
“I can’t believe it! You’re Odette and Odile!” Lily squeals, practically bouncing on her toes in excitement.
I coax a small smile onto my face, though my chest feels tight with pressure. Anger is simmering just beneath the surface, and I know it’s only a matter of time before it explodes.
Odette is gentle, pure, vulnerable. And here I am full of cracks and doubts, unsure I want anyone seeing me as weak.
Odile, on the other hand, is manipulative, fierce, determined to get what she wants.
How can I make Odette’s strength believable when my own is so fragile?
And how can I summon Odile’s confidence when I have none?
“Eleanor, you’re going to be amazing!” Lily practically throws herself at me, her grin unstoppable. “Everyone’s going to see it!”
I nod, trying to absorb her excitement, but it’s foreign. “I’ll be right back.”
Lily’s face falls. “Are you alright?”
I manage a small nod and turn back into the studio. Nik, Kasper, and Russell are still deep in conversation, but right now my feelings outweigh my respect for interrupting.
I march straight up to Nik. “Can I speak to you?” I ask, irritation lacing my words.
Nik jumps slightly, clearly startled. He excuses himself from Kasper and Russell and walks me to a quieter corner of the room. “Is everything alright?” His voice is soft, concern bleeding through.
I take an anchoring breath, trying to rein in my anger. “Is this your way of setting me up to fail?”
Confusion flickers across his face. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what,” I snap, my voice rising. “You cast me as both Odette and Odile.”
“And?” he asks.
I rub my temples, trying to calm down. “You don’t get it!
” I hiss. “You just handed me two roles I can’t possibly do!
” My voice drops to a whisper-yell. “My strength lies in precision, and you cast me as the exact opposite.” The second the words leave my mouth, regret washes over me.
I hate the way I sound, and the way he looks at me makes me want to escape.
Nik’s eyebrows furrow, a flash of annoyance crossing his face, and I feel like a fool for letting my anger spill out.
“You know what, Eleanor, you’re right,” he says, calm but firm. “I purposefully picked you so I could watch you fail.” He bends slightly, lowering himself to my level. “Or could it be… because you’re a trusila?” He straightens, looming over me again. “Did I miss the mark?”
Tears prick my eyes. He isn’t wrong. I am a coward.
“If you don’t want the role, speak now. I can give it to someone who actually wants it, because I—” His eyes travel over me slowly. “I won’t deal with tantrums all season.”
I’m struck breathless, my voice caught somewhere deep in my chest.
The annoyance on his face softens just slightly. “I may not know everything about you, Eleanor, but I’m perceptive… I think you and Odette, even Odile, have more in common than you want to admit. And that,” he whispers, “scares you.”
He turns on his heel, giving me no chance to respond, and walks back to Kasper and Russell.
I bolt from the room and lock myself inside a bathroom stall. What a complete fool. Warm tears stream down my cheeks, and I’ve never felt more absurd or useless in my life.
I can’t even pinpoint why I’m so angry. Sure, I have to work on my fluidity, but that doesn’t mean automatic failure.
And yet, the thought of performing two people who mirror me so closely makes me want to crawl into a hole and disappear. Being seen that clearly feels unbearable. Add the pressure of dancing two opposing roles at once, and bile rises in the back of my throat.
I’m already being corrected left and right by Nik. Now, that scrutiny will multiply tenfold.
When you perform a character so personally relatable, it breaks you in ways you never expect.
The bathroom door creaks open, and Lily’s voice carries through the hallway. “Eleanor, are you in here? Rehearsals are starting. Russell is going over choreography.”
I sniffle and unlock the door. “I’m here… I’m coming,” I say, brushing away a few stray tears.
Lily’s brows furrow, but she doesn’t comment. Instead, she slips her arm through mine, linking elbows. “It’s okay. We can be fashionably late together.”
I can’t help but laugh, a warm relief spreading through me. I’m grateful to have a friend like her.
Halfway through rehearsals, as I’m getting set up for my pas de deux with Gabriel—who, of course, is Prince Siegfried—I hear a crack. The sound no dancer ever wants to hear. My pointe shoe box splits in half, and I nearly fall flat on my face. Thankfully, Gabriel catches me just in time.
“Woah, are you okay?” Gabriel asks, his grip firm but concerned.
I give a shaky nod, clutching his arm just as tightly.
Nik steps between us, his hand resting lightly on my arm. “What happened?”
“I think my box broke,” I say, my voice wobbling slightly.
Nik’s eyes follow mine to the satin of my shoe, now darkened with blood. His brows pull together in concern.
“Can she go to Irina?” Russell asks.
Oh no. Please. No.
Nik’s expression remains unreadable. He simply nods. “Lily, can you take her there, please?”
“Sure thing,” Lily exclaims with her usual energy. She grabs my hand and helps me walk toward the door.
I struggle to walk down the hallway with the broken box in my pointe shoe. “Hey, wait. Let me take this death trap off first,” I say, plopping onto a bench and untying the ribbon.
“Oh, yeah, of course,” Lily says, coming back to sit next to me. “I’m sure Irina has a brand-new pair waiting. I swear that woman hoards things.” She chuckles.
Whoever Irina is, I know she’s important to Nik. And while I don’t want to admit it, my feelings for him have become… complicated. Skewed. Dangerous, maybe. If Irina is his girlfriend—or even his wife—would it upset me? I don’t know, but the thought makes my heart shutter.
“You’ll love her. She’s like everyone’s ballet mom,” Lily adds with a smile.
I lower my chin, focusing on loosening my shoe. Once it’s off, a fresh stream of blood trickles into it. I move as quickly as I can down the hallway, careful not to stain the floor. At the end, a wooden door with a well-worn brass handle waits for us.
Lily knocks twice. “Irina? It’s me, Lily. Can we come in?”
The door opens, revealing a woman likely in her late fifties or early sixties.
Her black hair is streaked with silver, and she wears a calf-length maroon dress layered with a cardigan.
A few sewing needles are tucked through the fabric where the buttons should be. Every inch of her screams seamstress.
It isn’t her clothing that draws me in. It’s her eyes. Crystal-blue. Just like Nik’s.
It hit me then. I know exactly who I’m staring at.
“Lily, Knopochka, what brings you here?” the woman asks, her eyes sparkling with warmth. Then, as they shift to me, her smile widens. “And who do we have here?”
“Mama Rina, this is Eleanor,” Lily introduces. “The box in her shoe broke. Nik sent us to see if you might have any extra pointe shoes.” She glances down at my foot. “And… maybe a bandage too.”
Irina’s face lights up at the sound of my name, as if she recognizes me—or at least has heard of me. My stomach flutters. Has Nik talked about me?
“Eleanor,” Irina exclaims, gesturing for me to step inside. “Please, come in, Milochka.”
The room is best described as an organized chaos: fabrics of every color, pins, buttons, and sewing machines scattered in every direction. I take the metal chair she offers, the warmth of the worn seat contrasting the chill lingering from the studio, while Lily props herself against the doorway.
“Ah, here they are,” Irina announces, pulling a pair of new pointe shoes from a cluttered shelf. After carefully bandaging my foot, she adds, “Try these on, dear.”
I take the shoes from her hands, slipping them on carefully.
She has me stand so she can check my arches, adjusting slightly to ensure the fit is perfect and that I won’t risk injury during rehearsal.
Her attention to detail and care is comforting.
At the Metropolitan, most seamstresses simply handed over the shoes and moved on—well, with the exception of Natalia.
“I think these fit nicely. What do you think, Eleanor?” Irina asks, her crystal-blue eyes warm with genuine concern.
I test a few positions, flexing and rising onto pointe to feel how the shoes support me. They aren’t broken in the way I like, but they will do for now. “I think these are perfect,” I say with a small smile, grateful for someone who seems to care.
She smiles and tilts her head. “Good.” Then she turns to Lily. “You let me know if that son of mine is being too hard. I’ll give him a stern talking-to if he’s not.” She winks.
Lily giggles. “No problem. Nik could probably still use that talk though.”
Irina snickers, wrapping her in a hug. “Oh, don’t I know it. Tell him I said to loosen up. He works too hard.”
Lily salutes playfully. “You got it, Mama Rina.”
Then Irina turns to me and, before I can brace myself, she wraps me in an unexpected hug. “It was so nice to meet you, dear. I look forward to seeing you again.”