There's a hush over the room, like everyone's been drugged into not speaking. Kier turns to me, smiling softly, and I feel a rush in my heart, a sudden feeling that lasts only a moment when I look at him. And then there's this sort of whiplash feeling as I realize for the second time that everyone is looking at me.
I wince, forcing myself to look at everyone. The other dancers are all at the front, Natalee's eyes wide like she's afraid of me. Behind them are all their parents, even a few grandparents, faces soft as they stare at me. The looks on their faces are almost all the same. Freaky. It's like in movies when people get all emotional and start crying over nothing. I've never seen it in real life, though.
"What's going on?" I whisper to Kier, but he just shakes his head, grinning widely.
The first person to approach me is Marie. The crowd parts around her to let her reach the front, where she grabs me by the hand. Her skin is oddly warm. "Keaton," she says, and nothing more. She stares at me, her eyes sharp and piercing. And yet, she doesn't seem upset with me. There's a feeling coming from her that I can't name.
"I'm sorry," is the first thing out of my mouth. I don't know what else to say. I've let down the entire company. I've failed everybody. We're not going to sell tickets anymore, not to anybody but our parents, and how lame is that? All because of me. All because I was stressed out and didn't do my best.
"No wonder you wanted to rehearse at home," Marie says, and I blush. She taught me the dance, but I practiced the song all on my own. Only now do I understand what a mistake that was. It doesn't matter that I was exhausted by the time we got to the end of our regular-length practice, I was exhausted from all the twirling and spinning. I should have sucked it up and stayed after like Marie wanted.
I try not to cry. There's a sucking feeling in the backs of my eyes, making them sore. "I'm sorry," I say again, my voice weak.
Marie creases her forehead. "What do you mean, dear?" she asks.
"I'm sorry," I say, and now I let the tears trickle out. I hear gasps from the crowd. I don't know why I'm crying either. There must be something wrong with me.
But when I look up, I'm not the only one. Quinn is crying. Desmond is crying. Caitlin is crying. So many people are crying.
Are they hurt? I don't understand. I don't understand. I don't understand.
My head is spinning.
When I look back at Marie, she's crying too, dabbing at her tears with a confused look on her face, like she doesn't know what they are. "I don't know what you're sorry for, Keaton," she says. "You were amazing." She says the word amazing as if it's a stranger to her, like she's never seen anything amazing before in her life.
An old woman steps forward, coming to join us. She has a cane with her, but I'm not sure why, because her posture is straight, eyes bright like she's still twenty-five. "My dear," she says, wiping at her slick face with a tissue, "I've never seen anything like that before. You're a beautiful dancer, but it was the song that really changed me."
Changed me?
"Really," she continues. "I haven't felt this way since... well, ever." She laughs, shaking her head, looking nearly as dizzy as I feel. "I feel as if you know me, and I know you. I feel like I knew you in a past life."
"I'm sorry," I say again. "I don't understand. What are you trying to say?"
"She's saying you're more than just talented," Marie says, rubbing her eyes. The skin around them is already growing red. Marie has a sensitivity to salt that makes her skin puff up. I've never seen her cry before, but I wonder if crying affects her. My stomach dives. "You made... you made us all feel something different. Something sort of crazy."
I shake my head. I still don't get it. Why is Marie acting so strange? It's like she's in some kind of trance. "Marie," I say. "What's going on?" I choke on the words.
Kier comes over, putting an arm around me. His clutch is tight, but I like it. It makes me feel safe.
"Could I speak to you and your parents before you go?" Marie whispers, bending her head close. By now, the others in the room are growing restless, talking among themselves. It's only Kier and the old woman who hear. Marie peers at her watch before saying, "Four-thirty. My office. Does that work, Keaton?" Her eyes say something else. They're telling me I haven't got a choice in the matter.
"Of course," I say. It's nearing four-twenty now, which is a relief. I don't know how long I'll be able to stand this. "I'll go find my parents now." I walk away briskly, Kier scrambling to keep up. Don't know why he bothers to follow me, but he acts as a shield, moving in a circle around me to keep other people from coming too close. And they do try, bending forward like monsters, their fingers daggers scratching for my face.
Why do they want me? I've never been anything before. No one's ever noticed me before. I get up and go to school. I go to parties, I do my homework, I hang out with my friends. I've never been exceptionally talented at any of the things I did.
I've never been one of those girls before. And now I guess I am.
My parents are at the edge of the room with my siblings. Sarah jumps forward first, throwing her arms around my neck, splattering my chest with her tears. My mom is bleary-eyed too, although Dad and Nick look just like they always do.
"Marie wants to talk to us," I sputter, and they all nod, as if this is what they've been expecting. I lead them through the crowd, keeping my head bowed. I still can't look at everyone. It's freaky to think that they're all thinking about me.
My hair hangs low, making it hard to see at all. It's long, and stringy, but I don't mind it for once, because it's easier to be blinded than to actually see. All I see is the feet: black dance shoes, sneakers, boots. All the same.
All the same.
It's only then, as I force myself into deep breathing, that I realize I am panicking, that my breathing has turned to nothing but frantic blasts of air that force their way through all blockades at haphazard, like they've forgotten what they're meant for and have only realized it in the very last moment. Like soldiers, the breaths fight their way into my lungs, taking away everything I have.
In, out, in, out.
Sarah reaches to brush my hair out of my face. "You okay?" she whispers, sounding truly concerned.
"I don't know," I say softly. "Everyone's just panicking over nothing." I realize as soon as I say it how ironic it is, that word: panicking. I'm panicking to, and do I have any real reason?
"It's not nothing," Sarah hisses. By now, we're in the hallway, a tiny grey passage that I've never been so grateful for. "That was unlike anything I've ever seen. How come you never sing like that at home?"
"I put everyone in pain," I say, but my mind is still racing, and I'm not sure if anything I'm saying is true. "People didn't even clap."
Nick butts in on my other side, walking close so that we can be three across in the thin hallway. "We were too stunned," he says. "Keat, that wasn't pain we were feeling. That was something incredible."
I shake my head. "I still don't understand what you're saying," I whisper. "What do you mean by incredible?"
But Nick doesn't have a chance to answer, because we reach Marie's office and Mom slides open the door, stepping back so we can enter. My family members draw back to let me in first, and it's strange, because I can already tell that something in our dynamic is different. I've risen to the top of our family hierarchy after what I did today. That's when I finally believe them that I did a good job in my performance.
There are only three chairs across from Marie's desk, angled like a principal's office where kids sit in a row as they wait for their punishments. I've never gotten in trouble in school, but Sarah's always screwing up in one way or another, and Nick once accidentally broke a classroom TV in elementary school.
My siblings go right away to the space behind the chairs, standing like soldiers against the wall. Sarah gives me a tight smile, fiddling with her hair, and I go ahead and take the seat on the far left. My parents sit next to me, and we wait like that, in silence, until Marie comes in. She does a double take when she sees us all there, already situated, and then stumbles in, sitting down at her desk chair, a big fake smile across her face. Marie doesn't smile much, actually. She's not a happy person. Usually stressed over our performances. I don't think she makes a lot of money, teaching dance. I'm sure she would have preferred to be a dancer herself, but that's barely a career. I'm no fool: I know, like I always have, that this is nothing but a hobby, something to put on university applications. Someday I'll be a doctor, or a lawyer, or something like that, doing what I can to make money.
"Thank you for coming to meet me," Marie says, lips pursed. Her voice, as always, is clipped like she's in a hurry, but I know that today she isn't. She pauses, glancing around at all of us, before saying, "I don't think Keaton should be a part of the Company anymore."
I want to lurch out of my seat, but I don't. The tears that clog the backs of my eyes scream for release, but I don't allow it. I will not cry in front of Marie.
It's just that this is where I'm happy, performing with the Company. This is where all of my favorite people are. My friends at school are more like blank faces to me, but Desmond and Quinn and everyone make me happy.
"Please," I say.
Marie holds up a hand. "Keaton, wait a moment. Let me explain," she says. "You... your talent is something we can't help you to improve here at the Company. You've never... I never realized you had it in you until we asked you to prepare this. You might be the most exceptional performer I've ever seen. In fact, I'm sure you are."
Don't cry, I tell myself again, but it's hard not to. I feel so much right not: dark sadness at the thought of being forced out of here, but also a flickering joy at the thought that I might have impressed Marie in such a way. Most of the time, she seems almost as if she resents us, sees us as just the kids she has to deal with to make her pay, but the way she's looking at me now... it's almost like Marie looks up to me.
"So you're kicking me out for doing a good job?" I ask.
Marie stares at me for a moment, smacks her lips, and then says, "No, Keaton. I would like to help you, actually." She leans forward, whispering as if someone might overhear. "Most of your classmates... they're never going to go anywhere with performing. They're not serious about it, most of them. They don't have what you do. It wouldn't be fair to keep you hear, at a company with barely any publicity. You deserve the best, Keaton. Really. It wouldn't be morally right for you to stay here."
I don't know what to say, and for once, Mom doesn't ask questions and Sarah doesn't hum under her breath and Nick doesn't narrate his thoughts as they pop into his head. No, we're all silent, staring at Marie, feeling the buzz of the future humming before us. I can feel it, the whole world opening up for me, and nothing is as it seems anymore.
I am not just a girl. I am something bigger.
"Where would she go?" Dad says finally. He's leaning back in his chair, face calm, as if this doesn't worry him at all. I guess it doesn't.
"We would have to do some searching, but I'll let you know when I find someone who might take Keaton, and we'll set up a meeting with them." Marie folds her arms on the desk. "Does that work for everyone?"
I almost laugh at the way she says everyone, as if one of my siblings might interject. We all nod, like zombies, trapped under Marie's spell.
Nothing is like yesterday. Nothing is the same.
We all stand up, and there's sort of a blur as Marie thanks us and leads us out the door. And it's strange how the same everything feels, how the feeling in the room is the very same heaviness I always feel, all the time. It doesn't feel as if anything has changed.
As soon as we're in the hallway, Mom turns to me. "Keaton," she breathes. "How did none of us ever know?"
I don't speak. It took me ages to learn that song. I've never had a formal vocal lesson, and I was too embarrassed to practice in front of anybody, so I waited until I was home alone. I thought I was complete crap. I kept on missing notes, getting everything wrong, having awful voice cracks. And now they're all telling me that... that I'm good at this.
"You're an incredible person," Sarah says, and she never, ever says anything nice to me. We're the kind of siblings who never quit fighting. "Truly, Keaton. I feel like... I feel something I've never felt before. It was like I was in pain, but only on the inside."
"That sounds awful," I mumble.
"But I know what she means," Nick chimes in. "I felt like I was being ripped apart. It was, like, crazy. You're so good, Keaton."
"More than good," Sarah says.
I'm too overwhelmed by it, all of a sudden, and the tears just spill. And for once no one flips out about the fact that I'm crying. That I'm in pain, but only on the inside, like Sarah said.
I'm not a fool. I know that other people don't have internal pain, like me. I first noticed it when I was maybe five or six, that things made me cry and didn't affect anybody else. That when I tried to talk to my mom, or my friends, or anybody, about how I felt, they didn't understand. This is the first time that anyone else has ever told me about it happening to them too, this strange pain I've grown used to throughout my life.
I caused it. It's like I have superpowers.