Overture (Ambler Elite #1) ★

3. Cliquey Catfights & Tricky Turns

Not only did Zoe make walk inside The Rolling Pin, she made me stay the whole three hours. Every time I complained she pursed her lips disapprovingly and started another lecture about how I couldn't let Paige and Co. click me out, I couldn't let them derail my plan, etc., etc. So I was stuck there, gaining my body weight in pastries just so I had something to do.

Six thirty inched around, and then I was free. I already had on my leotard and tights underneath my street clothes, so all I had to do was cross the street to Ambler and warm up before class at seven. And since Paige and her minions had left me alone for the past few hours (other than the sticky situation with Riley), I could only hope she'd do the same for the rest of the night.

The only person in the dressing room was Becca, who was laying on the cracked tile in a middle split as she texted. When I stepped inside she shot me a friendly smile before going back to her phone.

Becca and I could have probably been friends, but she didn't like to choose sides in the war against the Clique. She hung out with her boyfriend Finn pretty much 24/7, and everyone left her alone. It was a fair compromise. I totally would've taken that deal if they'd offered it to me.

The silence was kind of awkward as I peeled off my sweatpants. Becca tossed her phone into her bag and started pulling her curly dark hair into a bun. As she stabbed her head with bobby pins, I put on my toe pads, watching the door in case Paige walked inside.

"Got any extra bobby pins?" Becca asked after a few minutes, startling me.

"Yeah. Here." I pulled the Ziploc out of my dance bag and passed it over. She took a few and handed it back. Then I finished getting ready double-speed, to escape this half-friend situation and to make it out alive before Paige arrived.

I was successful avoiding conflict until halfway through class. I'd minded my own business throughout barre work, sentenced to my isolated spot next to Coral. We'd shared a smile over something Mrs. Ava had said, which counted as quality bonding for me. Then our teacher dismissed us for a break in between barre and center, and the trouble began.

The dressing room between barre and center was like the watering hole in a savannah: everyone gathered in one spot, all at once, sweaty and exhausted and ready to pounce. No thank you.

Tuesday night classes were made even worse by the fact that we had a joint Level 9/10 class in Studio B at the same time as us, so we usually ran into them in the dressing room. The most problematic Level 9 girl was Mindy Greene, who had a habit of going head-to-head with Paige at the most inconvenient times.

Today was no exception. I counted how many sips of water I took (five) before the drama began.

"I didn't see you in rehearsals Saturday," said Paige, calling to Mindy over everyone else in the cramped room. "Were you sick?"

"No. I was touring colleges. You know, because I'm a senior in high school? I have other things to worry about besides my local studio's Nutcracker."

"Right. Because you weren't good enough to get into a ballet program."

I bit my lip and capped my water bottle. It was true: academics were second place to everyone here at Ambler, the backup option. Except maybe Jordyn, but she hardly counted. She was a cunning, cruel genius.

"I didn't try. I woke up one day and realized ballet isn't for me."

Paige shrugged. "Guess that's why I'm Clara and you're the understudy."

"Look." Mindy hip-checked Finn, who whistled and stepped aside, so she could get closer to Paige. "I'm getting kind of sick of fighting with someone five years younger than me. You've got a lot to learn, honey. You're not worth my time. Don't bother me anymore, okay?"