Overture (Ambler Elite #1) ★

7. Pre-Rehearsal Craze

I gave Riley a wide berth in class on Thursday and Friday. He kept smiling at me and coming over to talk to me in the dressing room, but I kept our conversations to a minimum. One-word replies, nods, and tight smiles. No flirting. No even acting like I was interested.

Then, on Saturday, everything changed.

The all-cast rehearsal started at nine, so naturally I was up at seven because I was too nervous to go back to sleep. It was still pretty much dark outside—only a tiny sliver of the rising sun filtered through my closed blinds—and the house was dead quiet. When I sat up in bed, Mila raised her head and then plopped it back on her paws, shutting her eyes again.

I opened my closet door and pulled out the scoop back leotard I'd set out last night. It would be impractical to avoid wearing a certain leotard, wouldn't it? It deserved to be worn as much as the others. So what if it was prettier?

After I wiggled into it and my tights, I started in on my hair. I made myself stick with a basic high bun, wrapping it tight and stabbing bobby pins in my head to make sure it didn't fall out. I wasn't interested in slipping on stray bobby pins during the manège in Waltz of the Flowers.

Now it was seven twenty, and I was already almost ready. I splashed some water on my face, brushed my teeth, and then stared at myself in the mirror. I looked exhausted—I'd stayed up all night watching Nutcracker videos and hadn't gotten much sleep.

This needed to be fixed.

I crept into the bathroom Zoe and I shared, careful to stay away from the door that led into her room. She'd be furious if I woke her up at this hour. Then I opened my drawer and, from the very very back, pulled out my performance makeup.

I could do this. Nothing over-the-top. Just a touch of mascara, a swoop of eyeliner, and maybe some concealer for those dark circles.

Leaning towards the mirror, I unscrewed the eyeliner and penciled in a line, just like I'd seen Zoe do. It flicked out perfectly, but once I'd done both eyes and stepped back to admire my handiwork, it looked like way too much. I was going to rehearsals, not a beauty pageant.

Huffing, I wet a tissue and tried to scrub off the traitorous makeup, but it only smudged. Now I looked like a crying raccoon on top of everything.

I tossed the eyeliner around the counter and it rolled into the sink. This was not my morning.

"Ever?"

Now I'd awoken the seven AM beast of my sister. Weekends were sacred sleep-in time to her. She would not be happy.

I propped open the door to her room. "Sorry," I whisper-shouted. "I'm getting ready for rehearsals."

"Honey, your eyes. Why are you crying?"

"I'm not. My makeup smudged."

She groaned and swung her legs onto the side of the bed. "It's my duty, as your older sister, to help you. Go back in the bathroom."

She followed me inside and sat me on the edge of the tub. "All right. Close your eyes. Eyeliner first."

Obediently, I shut my eyes. I felt the rough pencil across my lids as she drew what I hoped were too perfect lines. Then she smudged them out a little with her finger and asked, "You're just going to Ambler, right? What's the big occasion?"

Caught. I swallowed noisily. "I was just practicing for the show. My stage makeup. You know."

"Isn't it like two months away?"