10. Chapter Eight #2
INVITING THEM TO THE school was a mistake. There’s a Level V class going with ages fifteen to eighteen and none of the girls can stay focused. I can practically see the hormones floating in the room. It’s all very canon and I know there’s no stopping it.
The Belinsky Academy is known for its beautiful interior.
It’s like stepping into a Greek painting.
The building is filled with natural light, giving the space an inspiring element for the students.
We have multiple studios for classes. At the back of the building is a theater dedicated to performances where students showcase their work at the end of the season to show their progress.
I’m currently sitting in my office across from one of my top student’s parents, Adela and Thomas Kline—some of New York City’s elites.
He wears a charcoal-colored fitted suit, and his brunette hair is styled neatly.
He even has a mustache that few can pull off.
His wife, Adela, is dressed to the nines.
She’s a stunning Latina woman. She wears her dark hair half-up, soft curls falling over her shoulders, and a red blazer over a white blouse and dress pants.
Every little girl and boy who grew up in ballet knows them.
They’re both legends and highly respected in the industry.
They have danced as partners since they were ten years old.
It wasn’t until Adela got pregnant with their daughter, Sybil—who is now thirteen years old, that they decided to retire.
Only Adela planned to stop, but Thomas refused to dance without her or with anyone else.
Now their world revolves around Sybil, who happens to be my favorite student.
She’s a level ahead of all of her classmates in her age range. I already spoke to them about leveling her up, but they were not too keen on the idea. They prefer their daughter to stand out, not blend in. Believe it or not, I understand their choice completely, so I didn’t push it.
Nonetheless, it doesn’t stop the nerves fluttering around in my stomach as I stare at them from across my desk. Whatever they want, I’ll give to them. Their money is one of the reasons this place still exists. Without them, everything would fall apart.
“I gather you know why we’ve requested this meeting?” The question comes from Thomas.
I smile genuinely, glancing between them. “My best guess is Sybil.”
They nod, placated with my response. Talking to one of them was terrifying, but both? I should’ve turned the AC down in my office.
“It’s come to our attention that our daughter is being shamed by the other girls in class,” Adela says, her accent strong.
My heart drops to my stomach. I had no idea that was happening.
When Adela’s eyes go glassy, Thomas reaches over to grip her hand.
She squeezes his hard, looking at him apologetically.
He shakes his head softly before turning to me.
“She has become adamant about only practicing when at the studio like the other girls . We used to wake up to her practicing in the home studio, but it’s been a week since she’s gone in there.
It took the whole week before we finally got the answer yesterday evening after class. ”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Kline. I had no idea this was going on.” I shake my head, angry with myself for not paying closer attention. “If I had I would’ve—”
“We know,” they say together, smiling softly.
“Did she mention any names?” I ask, trying to tamper down my anger.
Adela shakes her head. “We were hoping you could help us with this by keeping an eye on our baby. We do not want her light to dim. We don’t want her to fear her brightness because it intimidates others.”
Sybil reminds me of myself when I was her age. I had the same spark—the passion that comes once in a lifetime. I dimmed my brightness, and, in the end, I lost everything.
“I will speak with her away from the others to see what I can find out. I promise you that I will not take this lightly.”
“Thank you, Miss Sommers. She really loves you and you’ve done such a wonderful job helping her get past mental blocks,” Adela states, standing with her husband’s hand still clasped in her own.
He stands beside her, and I follow suit as he reaches to shake my hand with his free one. “As soon as you learn something, you will let us know, yes?”
“Yes, of course,” I respond, releasing his hand to take Adela’s. She squeezes it almost in desperation and I feel her sadness for her daughter like a dagger in the heart. “I will take care of her as I would my own,” I promise them.
It’s about ten minutes after they’ve left my office when I feel the weight of someone entering the room.
I look over to find Julian leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed, his jacket discarded somewhere.
I slowly realize that I’ve been blankly staring at the wall.
Usually, I’d flush in embarrassment, but I’m too sad.
“Is everything all right?” he asks, genuinely appearing concerned and I’m not going to lie, it creates something warm in my belly.
How do you tell someone you feel like you failed someone? The answer for me is, you don’t. Instead, you smile a smile you hope is reassuring and say, “Yep!” His eyes narrow and I can tell he doesn’t believe me, so I shrug. “Been better.”
He nods but doesn’t seem all that convinced. I peer behind him. “Where’s Carter?” I ask before he can question me more.
“The agency called him in,” he answers smoothly.
“You didn’t have to stay.”
He shrugs, stepping further into my office—taking a look around. “I wanted to.”
I look at his hands and wish I didn’t. They’re big and he’s tall and. . .woah, maybe I do need to get laid. I clear my throat. “Well, feel free to go about your day,” I say nonchalantly. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re distracting the students.”
He smirks, definitely aware of what his presence does. “Maybe their instructor should teach them to focus better.”
My mouth twitches, but I refrain from smiling because I’m certain that’s what he wants and for some reason, I don’t want to give it to him. Can’t a person be sad and horny in peace?
“Or maybe you could. . .” I wave a hand in the air, trying to come up with something but give up rather quickly. “Yeah.”
“Wow, you really got me there,” he says dryly and then chuckles.
I roll my eyes, and he grins, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks as if he has nowhere else in the world to be. “I know you were doing something before this, Julian. My day has been terrible, yes, but that doesn’t mean yours has to be.”
He frowns and I wonder if I’ve offended him somehow.
Just as he opens his mouth to respond, two little ballerinas in pink tutus—Angela and Payton—enter my office.
The latter is crying, and I see a strawberry forming on her knee.
The two are twins, seven years old, and are always here early for class.
I always catch them twirling about in the dressing room which I don’t doubt is what happened here. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Julian moves out of the way as they make a beeline toward me.
“Payton fall down again Miss Sommers,” Angela tells me as her sister holds out her arms for me.
“That’s the third time this month, girls. When will we learn our lesson?” I ask them as I hug Payton. She’s too busy crying to answer my question, so I look at Angela who is staring wide-eyed at Julian.
“There’s a boy,” she whispers.
I press my lips together to hide my smile and Julian shoots me an amused look. “It’s not nice to stare, Angela, but if you must, say hello to Mr. Havord.”
He gives me a funny look when I call him Mr. Havord, but he smiles warmly at the girls who immediately melt at the attention.
“Hi,” Angela says shyly, trying to hide behind her sister. “Do you have the boo-boo spray?”
“Uh.” He looks quizzically at me and I smile this time, jerking my head toward my desk.
“Bottom drawer on the right,” I tell him and then focus back on Payton who has finally loosened her grip on my neck. “All right, let’s see the damage.”
She nods as she pulls away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands.
Sitting down on her floor, she sets her ankle on my thigh to show me the wound.
The nude tights are ripped at her knee, the same size as the red strawberry.
We really should remove the carpet in that room, but I don’t think that’ll stop the little monkeys.
Julian bends down beside me, handing me the spray and a box of Disney princess-themed Band-Aids. “Thank you,” I tell him and instead of hovering, he squats down.
“You know, I think you’re handling this like a champ. I stubbed my toe this morning and canceled my meeting.”
The girls laugh, looking up at him with awe in their eyes. The joke comes from the same man who not long ago said he hardly made them. Oh shit, I think I’m staring at him in awe.
While Payton’s distracted, I use the anti-bacterial spray a.k.a. “the boo-boo spray” which causes her to cry again but only for two short seconds. I wave my hand over the small wound, drying it. “Should I guess which princess you’re going to choose?”
She nods as her sister hugs her shoulders to comfort her.
“Hm,” I contemplate. “Belle?”
“No, Moana!” she yells like she always does. It’s always Moana and for her sister, it’s Belle. They love when I get it wrong, so I always do.
I crinkle my nose playfully as Julian digs through the box. He rips the paper and pulls out the band-aid before handing it to me. Ugh, so helpful . I lay it over Payton’s wound and pull the paper pieces to stick it to her knee gently.
“All better!” Angela exclaims excitedly, tugging her sister up to stand.
Payton throws her arms around me once more. “Thank you, Miss Sommers.”
I pat her on the back. “There are lollipops in the bin next to the door. Just don’t tell Nadya.” Nadya Belinsky is the founder of the Academy and is much sterner with the younger students than necessary.
They both buzz with excitement as they bounce over to the bin. They dig through it, looking for their favorite flavor.
Julian stands and offers me his hand, which I take. My hip throbs in pain as I do. I try to hide my wince but fail and it causes his brows to drop as he catches onto my elbow.
“You okay?”
I nod, pulling myself away from his touch. “Yeah, I think I tweaked my hip while dancing last night. I’m okay.”
He frowns at me as I do my best not to hobble over to my desk. “Just a tweak? You look like you’re in pain.”
“I’m fine, really. I’ll be as good as new in a few days,” I assure him.
“What time is your class over? I can give you a ride. You shouldn’t walk on it if—”
“I said I’m fine,” I snap and immediately regret it. The concerned look on his face is quickly reeled into neutral territory. “Sor—”
He dips his chin. “I’ll see you at home, Andrea.”
Home . My eyes widen slightly as he grimaces.
When he’s gone, I look back over at the girls. Giggles fill the room. “Miss Sommers is living with a boy!”
Well, shit.
The sound of my cell phone ringing fills the room and I’m thankful for the distraction. I reach into my purse and stare down at the caller ID. I guess the myth is true; tragedies always happen in threes.