“Ah non!” Vincent says sharply. “Ce n’est pas possible!” No way! That’s not possible.
“Je comprends,” Louis replies. I understand. But then he winks at me. As he continues talking to him, I notice that Louis is slowly turning his back to me, obstructing Vincent’s view of my hands. Seizing the opportunity, I slowly slip my phone out of my bag and take a few discreet snaps. I can’t quite see what I’m doing, but when I glance at my screen before putting my phone away, I see that it worked. élise Mercier’s Degas will be with me forever.
* * *
“How do you feel?” Louis asks, taking my hand in his when we’re back outside, walking along a busy boulevard.
Nervous about the upcoming show. Over the moon that we found the Degas we were looking for. Sad about leaving Paris soon. Excited about this wonderful day with him. And then confused about all of the above.
“Happy,” I finally say, smiling. It’s definitely the word that sums it up best.
“Me too,” he replies, running a hand through my hair. Then he presses his lips on mine. The usual Mia would feel self-conscious about all the strangers witnessing this moment. But Mia la Parisienne just fills with glee and butterflies.
I want this day to go on forever, but since that’s not possible, I opt for the next best thing: making it unforgettable.
“You’re going to call me a tourist again,” I start, immediately bringing a smile to Louis’s lips, “but I can’t see a Ferris wheel and not go for a ride. I’ve been thinking about it ever since we walked past it the other night.”
“Going up in the sky is not touristy,” Louis replies seriously. “It’s romantic.”
* * *
Louis and I sit next to each other in the pod, admiring the view. Every time I spot a monument I know—the Arc de Triomphe, the Sacré-C?ur, or the Tour Eiffel—I can’t help but squeal, making Louis laugh. His body feels warm against mine, and I shiver as his lips press against my neck.
“Today has been amazing,” I say with a sigh.
“It really has.”
“Every day with you has been amazing,” I continue, my voice catching in my throat. “I don’t want to leave.”
My heartbeat goes on a ride of its own as Louis just stares deeply into my eyes.
“Then don’t,” he says, so quietly that I almost wonder if I’m imagining it.
I take a deep breath, but I know this isn’t the moment for promises or life decisions. I just want to enjoy what Louis and I have, for as long as we have it. And right now, what I have is the chance to kiss Louis in the sky.
ON MONDAY MORNING, we’re all a little giddy as we get to school. For once, we won’t be putting on our leotards and heading straight into a dance session. Instead, the entire cast of Swan Lake is scheduled for our final costume fittings. I, for one, have never been so excited not to dance.
I beam as I pull mine out of the garment bag. The piece I tried on before is now pristine—from the intricate beading to the layers upon layers of tulle gathering around the waist. After weeks of wearing only white—and in a room filled with white swans—it’s a special treat to get into the skin of the maleficent Black Swan. Valérie and her team did a wonderful job; the costume fits perfectly. But the pièce de résistance is yet to come. I open the box that came attached to the bag, and retrieve the headpiece. I put it on, and two beaded feathers wrap around the back of my head, covering my ears.
“Mamma Mia, Mia!” Lucy says in an exaggerated Italian accent as she skitters toward me. She’s in her own costume, a pared-down version of Audrey’s.
“You look amazing,” I say.
Lucy smirks. “If you like my costume so much, I’m happy to swap. I’ll be the Black Swan, no problem.”
I roll my eyes and she laughs. We’re all assembled in the biggest studio, the only one that can fit us all. Drapes hang loosely from the corners as makeshift change rooms, so we can get in and out of our costumes. Seeing everyone all dressed up for the performance fills me with so much pride. You can rehearse choreography dozens of times. You can listen to the music on your phone every break you get. You can reread the story, digging deep inside of it to explore your character’s motivations. But it takes a room full of white birds—and this little black one—to drive it home. The program is rapidly coming to an end; what may or may not come next, no one dares to talk about. We’ll be performing onstage in front of the apprentice program directors from around the world in just a few days.