Faith

“Well done, Faith,” Danny calls, sitting back down to observe me. I’m trying to catch my breath; it’s been so long since I’ve danced, I’m surprised I even remembered the routine.

“Well done?” Theo repeats, turning to the kid on his other side. “Sure, she did fine. But don’t you agree, Mark, that precious Faith here didn’t loosen up for a single moment on stage? She danced like a zombie—or a corpse.”

The other guy, Mark, nods, his eyes narrowing in on me. “I noticed that, too,” he says. “She doesn’t know how to dance without the strict rules of ballet. I was waiting for her body to loosen up, but it didn’t. It was an act. A routine. There was no emotion. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed she hated dancing and was just doing it to please somebody.”

Crushed, I look at Danny, who furrows his brow. “You were a little stiff,” he admits, and I let out a huff but say nothing for a long moment. I’m humiliated and angry and all I want to do is smack all three of these guys in the face.

“You said you were looking for ballet dancers,” I say steadily, my eyes roaming over the trio. “That’s what I did. Ballet.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Danny continues as if I didn’t speak. “You did well. But the boys are right. Can you learn to loosen your body? To bend to the music? This team isn’t just any team, Faith. We need someone hot. Seductive. Someone who can get up on that stage and temporarily be someone else.” He pauses. “Is that you?”

My eyes meet Tara’s across the auditorium, and she gives me two thumbs up, encouraging me.

“Yes,” I say, my eyes traveling back to Danny. “I can do that.”

“Thanks for your time,” Theo says. “We’ll let you know if you made it.”

“Will I hear either way?” I ask, and hate myself for caring so much. I missed this, I missed dancing. And I hate that I had to go and remind myself of how much I missed it. Because the truth is, I probably won’t make it. And that will be a tough pill to swallow.

“We’ll contact you if you make it,” Danny says, glancing over his shoulder to where Tara still stands. “Tara, you’re up.”

It’s clear I’ve been dismissed, so I slink off the stage, all the powerful, beautiful energy I had flowing through me only moments ago dissipating into thin air and leaving me silently begging for more. It feels like coming down after a night of drinking—like a really bad hangover that just won’t subside. I want to cry, but that’s the last thing I need to do in front of these guys. Forget them. I’m not supposed to be dancing anyway.

“Don’t listen to them,” Tara whispers as I pass by her to take my seat in the back row. “You did amazing.”

“You’re up,” I say, holding back the tears until she’s at least out of range. I take a seat and watch my friend walk up on stage, and that’s when the tears come. As Tara dances, bringing a round of applause from all three men, all I can think about is how badly I screwed this up. I might not ever recover what little confidence I had left.

I escape out the back door just as Tara ends her jazz routine, too embarrassed to stick around, then make my way briskly back to the room to jump in the shower before Tara shows up and sees me crying. I stand under the hot water for what feels like ages, and when I finally emerge, my roommate is still nowhere to be seen. I have no doubt in my mind that Danny and the others are probably welcoming her onto the team right now, patting her on the back and shit-talking me. I don’t want to be a bitter sap, but I am, and now that I’ve had my moment to mope, I realized I promised my dad and Sadie that I would call and let them know how the day went.

As if this day could get any worse.