// the fire's gone //
That night, as I dreamed, a golden crown emblazoned with diamonds, pearls, and amethyst was placed on my head. Flowers that could only exist in Eternity fluttered from the silky fabric of my sparkling red dress. Glass slippers glittered from beneath the dress's hem. Before my eyelids opened, a string of black jewels winked at me, the rhinestones leading to the corner of a familiar mouth.
I woke with a start. I could still feel the dress against my skin, saw the echo of those jewels in the shadows, heard the flutter of flowers like butterfly wings.
Sighing, I got up and brushed my fingers along the red pointe shoes that twinkled in the morning light. The tarlatan of the matching dress slipped along my fingertips, enticing me to wear it again.
Still in my pajamas, I wiggled into the ballet shoes. I shook my head — wearing these took no prep and brought no pain. I rose to my tiptoes. With a quiet breath, I extended my arms and spun from one side of my room to the other.
I stopped at my desk and pulled the drawer open. The black rose sat tucked inside as images of Eika and Jack and Kit and Sirene danced across my vision. A bittersweet smile tugged at my lips as echoes of their voices and sounds volleyed through the room.
I cast a glance at the note Prince Rune had written. I picked it up to study the childlike scrawl.
"This flower will let you return to Eternity should you ever wish it," I read aloud.
For a brief second, I could feel his hands at my sides, his breath against my cheek. He purred, "I never knew such beauty existed," and a tingle rippled across my skin.
Tears, hot with anger and frustration and confusion, overflowed. I crumpled the note in my hands. Teeth clenched, I growled, "Get out of my head. Please."
I ripped the note in two and hurled the halves, not bothering to see where they landed. Crying quietly, I sunk to the floor.
I was home, the place to which I'd fought and begged to return. I was surrounded by my family and friends again. I could dance whenever I desired. I had everything I wanted. And yet — I was unhappy.
My thoughts revolved around Eternity and her splendors. Kit, tending the gardens and even the Malevolent Maze with tenderness and compassion, so unlike his bounty-hunter past. Jack, pulling strange medicines and guns from his worn bag and calling me "bean sprout" as I stared in awe at the view atop Mount Volum. Eika, holding my hand with the motherly understanding my own mother had yet to give me. Prince Rune, risking injury to save a silly picture I had taken of me and Annalyse and stashed in my wallet.
My hand landed on my feet, brushing the fabric of my shoes. I sniffed, struggling to my feet.
I would dance. It would clear my head, reset my clock, unclutter my emotions. Now, more than ever, I needed to lose myself to the music and the movements.
Motivated to empty my mind of everything except ballet, I took a shower, shoveled in a breakfast of oatmeal and orange juice that tasted like orange juice, and then gathered my things for dance class.
"Wait up! I'm coming with you."
Annalyse grinned at me and flung an arm around my neck. "Thank god. Let's dance our toes off."
The next week resembled a sort of routine: work-out in the morning, dance class, dinner, and spending time with Mari, Evette, and Donovan. I devoted free time to sleep.
As I shuffled to my room for a nap, the door to Dad's office opened. Dad stood there, arms crossed and the wrinkle between his eyes the deepest I'd seen yet.
"Hey, Bell."
"Belline." With a huff, I squeezed my lips shut, mentally berating myself.
"You got some time? I wanted to talk to you." He stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter his office.
"Oh. Uh, sure."
Dad closed the door with a soft click and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Is everything okay, kiddo?"
"Of course."
He quirked a brow.
I broke eye contact. "I'm doing better, Dad. Promise."
He rubbed my arm and then moved to sit on the edge of his desk. He removed his glasses to massage the dents on either side of his nose. "Honey, you're sleeping all the time." He replaced his glasses, pinning me with his gaze. "You barely eat. You're losing weight."
My hands instinctively went to my stomach, and I studied my toes. "Yeah, but it's good for dancers to lose weight."
"It might be okay for dancers, but not for my daughter."
Our identical eyes locked, and I felt small and vulnerable. Like he could see beneath the layers of normalcy I'd erected over the past week. My bottom lip trembled and tears collected in my throat. I swallowed hard.
"What's wrong, Belline?"
At the gentle beckoning, I let my sob escape. Dad gathered me in his arms, letting me cry onto his shoulders.
"What's wrong with me, Dad?"
He just stroked my hair. He didn't pry, he didn't persuade. He simply let me cry until my throat became sore and his shirt was wet. And even when the tears ran dry, he didn't push me.
With a soft smile, he dabbed at my tear-stained cheeks. "I'm here to listen, whenever you're ready. Doesn't matter if my door's closed. Just come right in. I love you very much, Belline. I just want you to be happy and healthy."
We embraced for a while. Then Dad kissed the top of my head, and I left his room, even more ready for a nap.
"You sure you don't want to be a part of the ballet? You know the dance like the back of your hand."
I smiled up at Michelle, the dance instructor. I switched legs, stretching out and wrapping my hands about the bottom of my foot. Face at my knee, I said, "I'm sure. Someone else deserves the opportunity."
She shook her head, smiling. "If you let everyone else take the opportunities, there won't be any left for you."
I chuckled. "I can be principal dancer any time I want."
She let her head fall back with a laugh. "Such confidence."
I slid into a pair of flipflops. I shoved my belongings in my bag and rose to my feet with a groan. Working out so much had its price to pay. "Well." I lifted my hand in a wave and turned to leave.
"Hold up, Bell-Bell." Michelle gripped my arm, making me face her once again. "It's just . . . You're an emotional dancer. You know that. But it's been off since you got back. I don't know what's going on, but — the fire's gone. Normally you put so much passion and emotion into your every move, but this past week — it's not there. And, you don't have to tell me anything. But I wanted to let you know that you can come to me for anything."
My lips pursed. If I told her, it would yet again be half-truths. But now, there were more truths to disclose. Truths that were closer to full-truths. And I knew she wouldn't gossip. All I'd wanted was a listening ear, and Michelle was the best candidate.
Sighing, I dropped my bag onto the ground, already pacing. With the studio empty, I could talk without worry. "Okay, here goes. Camp was not at all what I'd expected. And the entire time I was there, I just thought, I wanna go home."
She crossed her arms and her ankles, expression open.
"And you would think that, now that I'm home, I'd be really happy, right? But I'm not. I'm not happy, Mich. And I don't know why. I don't know how to be happy." My eyes misted up.
She pulled absently at the bun atop her head as her lips tilted down. "Well, could it be that you were happier at camp? I mean, everyone gets homesick every once in a while. But maybe now that your homesickness is gone, some part of you really misses camp. I'm sure you met lots of new people, right? Made some friends?"
I nodded.
"And you miss them?"
"Yeah."
A soft smile touched her mouth. "I don't have any solutions for you. But it's okay to not know how you feel. Or even how to feel, Bell-Bell."
With a shaky breath, I swallowed the growing lump in my throat. Michelle guided me to sit on the floor. She sat beside me, rubbing my arm.
And then, I spilled my guts to her. I told her about the exhausting activities, the injuries, the unknown of it all. I told her about the new friends I'd made and even the enemies I'd gained. And the annoying boy that had somehow given me tingles when we'd danced.
I even talked about college: how it was my parents' wish, never mine. How summer was ending so quickly. That I wasn't ready — that I never would be.
"Well, I guess that just leaves the most important question."
"What's that?"
She tilted her head. "What do you want?"
I blinked at her. "What do I want?"
"Yeah. What do you want, Bell-Bell? Do you want to go to college? Do you want to stay here? Do you want to find your friends from camp, go on a road trip with them during a gap year? What's going to make you happiest?"
My eyes fixed on my feet. What did I want? What would make me happiest? I didn't have the answers — and that stupid voice whispered, You have the answers, Belline.
Michelle patted my leg and stood up in one lithe movement. "I should close up the studio. And it's probably time you head home."
Lost in my thoughts, I couldn't recall standing up or strapping my bag on my shoulder.
Before I left, Michelle called, "Oh, and Bell? If I were you, I'd tell that annoying boy—" she used air quotes — "that you have feelings for him." She winked and disappeared into the back room.
And I stood there, heart in my throat and tingles spreading like wildfire to my every appendage.