Page 115 of Shine Bright

“Well, tough luck!” Katie snaps and simply pushes past her. “We’re going to talk.”

“Just go away. Seriously. I don’t want to talk. What’s so hard to understand about that?”

“Nothing,” I interject, following Katie. My guilty conscience whispers to me that this isn’t right. We’re ignoring her wishes, and that’s not okay. But leaving her alone isn’t an option either. Not anymore. We need to talk to her.

I want to say something else, but the words stick in my throat.

Susannah’s room is a mess. Nothing new there, really; she’s never been particularly tidy, but this is a whole new level. It’s desperate chaos. Her ballet things are scattered everywhere. Leotards, skirts, pointe shoes, everything, as if she had deliberately torn everything out of the drawers and boxes and thrown it on the floor.

And next to her desk . . . next to her desk, shards of glass glisten. Then I see that the little lamp on her nightstand is missing. Shit.

“God, Susannah,” Katie whispers, looking as stunned as I feel. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing. Leave me alone.” Susannah lifts her chin and crosses her arms in front of her chest, but I can still see that she’s shaking all over.

“We can’t! We have something to tell you.” Katie straightens her shoulders and looks firmly at Susannah.

“So now you’re ganging up on me? Seriously?” She laughs, and the despair in that short sound hurts terribly.

I want to reach out to her, to comfort her somehow, but I’m sure I’m the last person she wants to be touched by right now. “We’re worried about you.”

“Well, you don’t need to be.”

“Yes, we do, damn it!” Katie’s voice breaks. “You passed out yesterday!”

“I just didn’t drink enough water. It could have happened to anyone just as easily.”

“But it didn’t. Come on, we know why it happened,” I say.

“You have no idea!”

“How many times have you thrown up in the last few weeks?” Katie wants to know.

Susannah flinches, but her expression gives nothing away. Not a thought, not a feeling. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” I counter. “We know, and you have to stop.”

“I can’t stop doing something I’m not doing!”

“You’re destroying yourself!” I find myself raising my voice. “If you keep this up, you’re going to destroy yourself.” Even more than you already have.

“Oh, please. As if you wouldn’t be happy about that.”

I look at her in disbelief. “What?”

“Don’t pretend. You’re happy that Pearson will probably take the role away from me. At least now you get to be on stage. Congratulations, your dream is coming true.”

“Are you serious? You think I’d be happy about that?” I have to force myself not to yell at her, my ears are ringing.

“I think you’re happy that you can finally dance Odette and Odile.” She glares at me angrily, but beneath her anger, I see bottomless pain.

“No!” Suddenly, tears burn in my eyes. Her words hurt me more than they should. I know why she’s lashing out. I understand. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less that she could even think such a thing.

“Don’t lie to me. You wanted the part.”

“Of course I wanted the part! Every one of us wanted it. I worked my ass off to get it, and it still wasn’t enough.”

“Well, look, now you didn’t even have to do anything for it,” she says cynically. “You should thank me.”