After I finish, it’s her turn to take position in the middle of the room. She nods at me, and I press “Play” on my phone. Her music filters in through the speakers, but I turn it off before she takes her first step. I need to get something off my chest.
“Do you have something to say to me?” To my surprise, she doesn’t protest the interruption, but she doesn’t respond, either. “Because I’m going to find out at some point, and I’d rather hear it from you.”
It’s been nagging me since my conversation with Monsieur Dabrowski. How did he find out? “You told Monsieur Dabrowski on me,” I say, feeling my face grow hot.
Audrey rolls her eyes. “Play the music, Mia.”
But I don’t move, so she makes her way to me. She tries to grab my phone, but I pull it away.
“You told him!” I say.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she spits. “Are we going to practice or what?”
“We’re not,” I say, making the decision as the words come out of my mouth. I’ve played this in my head over and over, and the only person who could have told our instructor about me and Louis is right in front of me. I don’t know how she found out—maybe on the boat, maybe she overheard me talk about him with Vivienne and Madeleine. But one thing is certain: she never believed my story about hanging out with my aunts all those other times. The night of the party, I thought the girls were just joking about me and the mysterious cute French boy. But what if they knew all along? In any case, it’s obvious why Audrey ratted me out: she wanted both roles all to herself, the White and the Black Swan. She must have been so miffed when I took Odile away from her. “You betrayed me,” I continue, my voice shaking. “And I’m not like you. I can’t pretend that everything is fine.”
Audrey sighs again. She walks over to the bench and sits down. She shakes her head a few times, then looks up at me. “I know you can’t pretend. You’re terrible at it.”
I grunt. “I’m sorry if I have feelings.”
“You have so many of them,” Audrey says, rolling her eyes, “there’s not enough space for me in our room. You’re just feelings, feelings, feelings! Look, I told you before: I’m here to dance, not to share gossip or wander around the city. I don’t want to know what happened with your boyfriend, or whatever. I’m not here to deal with your drama.”
“I can’t believe you told his dad, Audrey. That’s low, even for you.”
Audrey lets out a sharp laugh. “How would I know his dad?” Then it hits her. “Wait, you’re going out with Monsieur Dabrowski’s son?” The disbelief in her eyes is apparent, even from across the room.
“Not anymore.”
“You have to be kidding me. Of all the boys in Paris, you decide to go out with our instructor’s son, and when it goes badly, you blame me for it? Do you really think I would have gone to Monsieur Dabrowski? I’m scared to even talk to him.”
“Who else could it have been?” I ask.
For someone who has difficulty showing her feelings, she looks genuinely shocked.
“That’s not really my problem,” Audrey says loudly. “But I’d never sabotage a rival. Especially not a worthy one.”
I search my brain for a snarky comeback, but then I stop. Did she just say…something kind of nice?
Audrey takes off her pointe shoes and starts stretching her feet one after the other. “I guess we’re not doing any more dancing before class,” she grumbles.
I look down at my phone, still paused on her solo music. I set it down and walk over to the bench.
I sit down next to her. “You think I’m worthy?”
“Yes,” she says sharply, not looking at me.
I wait for the but. There isn’t one.
Instead, she adds, “Sometimes I worry that you’re going to catch the attention of the ABT director and not me.”
“He or she could notice both of us,” I say without much conviction. Because let’s be honest: the chances that they like one of us enough to offer an apprenticeship are slim enough, but two? That’s not going to happen.
“I didn’t tell anyone about your business. I don’t even know anything.”
“Okay,” I say. I believe her.
“But you know what annoys me the most?” she asks, turning to me. “You have fun!” she snaps, like it’s the worst crime in the world. “You go out at night with your mysterious guy, come back all rosy-cheeked and happy, and I think, She’s not going to get up tomorrow to practice. She’s too tired, too in love, too whatever. But you do. Every day. I hate that.”