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PROLOGUE
ARABELLA
Two Years Ago
Ballet Prep is my whole life, but I’m exhausted. For the last week or so, I’ve been wondering if there is something else that I’m meant to be doing. Being principal dancer is all I have wanted since I was three years old, and I took my first ballet class. The reality of being principal dancer is grueling. I think I hate it.
I’m waiting outside of school for my driver when Mrs. O’Neal, my favorite teacher, comes and sits down beside me.
“How is Madame Groulx treating you these days, Arabella?” she asks. I am grateful for the reprive of my own thoughts.
“She’s great. She still doesn’t know about my eyes, but my solo is progressing nicely.”
“That’s wonderful,” she says.
“Don’t tell anyone, but I am auditioning for Clara in The Nutcracker. The performances start late October. I have a call back in three weeks with four other girls. I am so nervous,” I tell her excitedly.
“That’s amazing. The Nutcracker was the first ballet I saw. My father took me when I was nine. I have such fond memories of it. You will be fantastic as Clara.”
“You think so?” I ask.
“I know so,” she says. I’m about to cry so I try to change the subject.
“Where did you get your shoes, Mrs. O?” I ask.
“My shoes?” she asks, looking down at her feet. I continue to talk to her but she’s looking down at her phone. She actually looks like she’s about to be sick.
“Mrs. O? Mrs. O?” She doesn’t answer. What’s her deal, I wonder, but then everything seems like it’s in slow motion.
Suddenly, a black van with blacked out windows screeches to a halt in front of us. The side door opens and a gun with a silencer attached appears. I freeze. I can do nothing but stare at the gun. This is New York, I’ve seen guns before, but nothing like this. Mrs. O throws her body at me and takes us down to the ground. She’s on top of me and then I feel another body land on us.
“What’s going on?” I ask. My face is buried in her neck, but I am so scared right now, I welcome her.
“Shh,” she whispers.
I don’t know how long we lay like that before I hear the gun go off twice. The quick pop, pop, sound the gun makes as it’s fired makes me want to scream but I can’t. I do, however, start screaming as soon as Mrs. O is pulled off me. I scream and scream. I don’t stop until I feel a needle poke me in the neck.
“Whatsss going on?” I ask, but no one answers me if they do, I don’t hear it.
“Arabella?” I hear a soft voice and feel someone shaking me.
“Mrs. O?” I ask, sitting up. Every part of my body hurts, even my hair. How does that even happen?
“Yes, it’s me.” She says, gathering me into her arms. “Are you hurt, sweetie?” It’s so dark in this room, I can’t make her out, but I can feel her. I don’t want her to let me go.
“No. Just tired. So tired and cold.”
“I’ll keep you warm,” she says, patting my hair.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice shaking. “What happened? One second, we were on the sidewalk by school and the next in the back of that smelly van.”
“I don’t know, Arabella. He’s after me but you got pulled into this. I am so sorry,” she says.
