Chapter 69
GRADUATION DAY
Maverick dumps me backstage like a sack of laundry, barking a command to stay put as he slips out through the curtain.
The small backstage area is so heavily perfumed with cloying florals that it makes my temples throb.
A pale strip of light leaks under the double doors ahead, throwing shadows long and thin across the dark floor.
Red Xs litter the ground in a perfectly straight line, most of which are already occupied.
The other girls stand perfectly still in their gowns, eyes forward.
I can hear their breathing, but not a single whisper.
Doctor Carr appears from a side door, not a gray hair out of place, coat immaculate as always. He studies me like a sculptor appraising a piece.
“You clean up well,” he says finally, dry as the dead.
“Thank you, sir.”
“You’ve improved. Or at least, you’ve learned to stop showing weakness.” I nod. He circles me, slow and deliberate. “I had my reservations regarding your viability after 219’s unfortunate departure. And your little incident, of course.”
A quick jolt of fire burns down my arms, but it’s purely in my head.
His eyes fix on the raw skin where my cuff used to be. “I suppose fear can be quite the motivator.”
“It won’t happen again,” I reply, tucking my hands behind my back. I’m not sure if I’m saying it for him, or for me.
“No,” he agrees. “It won’t.” He stops in front of me. Adjusts a stray hair that wasn’t out of place.
“When you walk out there, remember: No one’s here to see you. They’re here to see the result.”
I don’t let the words sting. “Yes, Doctor,” I say, dipping my head.
His smile is empty. “Good girl.”
And then he’s gone.
Maverick finds his way back to my side just as the lights lower, a triumphant smirk fixed on his face. His posture is so stiff that I bet his back aches simply from standing. He tosses me a sidelong glance.
“Behaving yourself, little star?” He tugs me by the arm to the front of the line, flattening the shoulder seams of my dress with the flick of his wrist.
“Of course, sir,” I lie, flashing him a lopsided smile. “I’m just so excited.”
His eyes narrow, fingers faltering against my shoulder. I almost laugh. Even when it’s fake, overcompliance makes him squirm. He clicks his tongue. “Right. Well, it won’t be long now.”
I clear my throat. “Ivy and Bri, are they—”
Maverick’s grin sharpens. “They’re fine. Better behaved than you ever were.” He adjusts my hair, so proud of himself. “Better focus on yourself, little star. We have people to impress.”
That wasn’t my question, but it’s clearly all he’s going to offer me. I peek out from the curtain, not recognizing a single face in the sea of heavy dresses and wine glasses. My eyes scan the back wall instinctively. I don’t know what I’m looking for.
Well, I do.
But he’s not here. He won’t be here.
The sinking pit in my stomach dips ten feet further into the abyss.
Maverick ushers me forward.
I thought I was over stage fright. But the moment I step on stage, something bubbles up my ribs. I feel sick. So, so sick. I can’t feel my face, but for my sake, I really hope I’m smiling.
Six months ago, I would’ve given anything to get here. To walk the stage at graduation with the promise of a new life. I can’t help but feel a twinge of pride that I’ve accomplished my goal.
Only difference is, I’m not going to wait for the program to decide my future for me.
Doctor Kade stands at the podium, cloaked in a long white dress that makes her look equal parts angel and executioner.
She flashes me a sickly sweet smile before turning back to the audience.
“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we celebrate the future. What you will witness is more than a simple performance. It is proof of what the advancement program makes possible.”
Applause swells.
“These young women came to us uncertain and fractured. Some were fragile, others downright volatile. Each one arrived in need of direction. Through our methods, we have shaped their instincts into discipline, their chaos into purpose, their potential into promise.” She rests her hands over her heart.
“They are no longer at the mercy of their flaws, nor are they burdened by the weight of their pasts. Here, they have been rebuilt.”
The crowd roars. Doctor Kade raises her hands, soaking in the attention like this is her ultimate victory.
I stifle a cringe. This is absurd. I refuse to believe anyone’s actually buying this.
Kade waits until the crowd dies down before continuing.
“And so, with immense pride, I present the first among them. A young lady who has risen above every trial to become the very emblem of success.” She waves me closer.
I force a single suffering step, impossibly dizzy. “Please welcome, Estelle Ellington.”
My lungs seize. The name rings in my ears, clear as a bell. I’ve never heard it for real. Only in dreams—or nightmares—or whatever they are. Something pierces my chest.
Not my name. Not anymore, at least.
My vision falters. Maverick’s hand clamps against the small of my back, steadying and forcing in the same motion. His lips brush my ear, dipping to a whisper meant just for me. “Smile, little star. Your parents are watching.”
The applause roars on, blind to the way my knees nearly buckle.
I stumble toward the piano, letting Maverick guide me so I don’t collapse.
The bench gleams bright under the overwarm stage lights, beckoning my unwilling legs forward.
It’s waiting for me to sit, to play, to perform like the doll they’ve been perfecting.
I lower myself to the bench, straining every muscle hard enough to burst a blood vessel just to keep from melting into a puddle. My hands tremble against the fabric pooling in my lap. I force my gaze to the sheet music.
My fingers hit their marks. My eyes find the first bar.
And I go absolutely, positively, blank.