Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“Pushing it, don’t you think?” Juniper crossed in front of Hudson and me, walking to the pictures that hung on the walls in the spaces between the windows. “It took Michaela DePrince a year to recover, and you think you can do it in nine months?”
“I had a newer procedure, and eight, since you’re counting.” I followed her to the wall. “I’ll have to rehearse at full strength the month prior. And I know the odds. Our family beats them.”
“Our family,” Juniper whispered, looking up at the earliest photograph in the room. All four of us were in tights and leotards at the barre, our hair pinned into buns. Eva couldn’t have been more than two. “You’re all named after prima ballerinas, right?”
“Yes. Mom likes to set expectations early.”
“Alina is my mother, isn’t she?” Her gaze slid to my oldest sister.
That comment hit me like a punch to the stomach. “What makes you think that?” I felt Hudson behind us, watching, but he stayed quiet as Juniper’s gaze shifted to the picture below, where the four of us wore matching leotards and skirts. I was seven, making Lina nine—one year younger than Juniper was right now.
Glancing between the two, my chest constricted. The resemblance was uncanny. I should have noticed the second I laid eyes on her.
“I thought for a second it might have been Eva,” Juniper said, moving down the line of windows, studying each photograph. “The shape of our eyes is the same, and she doesn’t seem the motherly type.”
Grandma’s eyes.
“The shape of your eyes probably comes from my dad’s mom, your great-grandmother, and just because you follow someone online doesn’t mean you know them.” Though I couldn’t exactly argue with her observation.
Juniper glanced my way and paused as though weighing my comment, before turning back to the pictures. “But you would have known if she’d had a baby, right? And you looked pretty shocked to meet me.”
“True.” I followed her line of sight to the next picture, where only three of us wore costumes, holding bouquets after a performance. Anne stood at our side, smiling for the camera, her arms empty. She’d quit at fourteen, when Mom told her she’d never reach the level needed to be hired by a company.
My pity had rivaled my envy of her freedom.
“Anne doesn’t dance, so she can’t be my mother.” Juniper sighed at the photo and moved to the next wall.
“That’s not how it works,” I countered, following her path. “And she can dance. She’s an amazing dancer.” My defenses bristled at Juniper’s skepticism. “It’s hard to grow up in a house like this. Hard to be great when . . .” My words trailed off before I could disparage my sister.
“When you’re surrounded by phenomenal,” Juniper noted, pausing at the next picture. All four of us stood outside the very first Classic, but again, only three of us were costumed. She crossed the final window and stared up at the last picture.
Eva and I were dressed for the barre, teaching a summer intensive, and Anne beamed beside us in a black dress and an engagement ring.
“How old are you here?” Juniper asked, picking up her glass from the nearby windowsill.
“Twenty.” I couldn’t help but notice that my smile didn’t reach my eyes, and wondered if I’d even manage that smile if someone snapped a picture right now. “I’d just come back from the first time my Achilles ruptured.” The last few words slipped into a whisper.
Juniper’s shoulders dipped and she looked up at me, both hands on her lemonade. “My mother is Alina.” The statement was as decisive as it was laced with sadness.
“I think so,” I answered gently. “We called her Lina. She was the oldest, and had the brightest smile, and the loudest laugh, and gave the best hugs—the kind where you feel like love moves through osmosis, like she could infuse you with her joy.” My throat tightened.
Juniper glanced beyond me toward where I knew Hudson was standing. I’d always been able to pinpoint him in a room without much effort. He was a magnet, drawing everything and everyone toward him—including me. Always had been. He and Lina were similar that way. “And she’s dead.”
I nodded, my stomach twisting, knowing I was probably doing this all wrong. There should be therapists here, and Caroline, and a host of other support, and people who knew the right thing to say, like Anne. Instead, Juniper was stuck with me.
And I never knew what or how much to say, which was why I’d always preferred staying quiet.
“How did it happen?” she asked.
I swallowed, and the twisting tied my stomach into knots.
“Juniper.” Hudson’s tone was a warning, and I heard the distinct sound of a phone vibrating.
“She has the right to know,” I said over my shoulder as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone.