The next few days pass uneventfully. We dance all day—ballet, modern, jazz—and I spend my evenings reading, stretching, practicing. Sometimes I talk to Cam on the phone, or I borrow Edie’s computer and check Facebook or email my friends back home. The audition is getting closer, and although the divide between the new girls and Melissa’s gang is as obvious as ever, nothing awful has happened.
I start to relax a little. I start to think that maybe Melissa has given up on her scheming.
And then the poop hits the fan.
When Edie and I arrive at school on Friday morning, Diana confronts me in the hallway. “Cassandra, come with me to the office, please.”
“What is it?” I ask. “Is something wrong?”
“Just come with me.” Diana’s face is grim, her lips set in a thin, straight line.
I turn to Edie, but she won’t look at me. “What’s wrong?” I ask again, quickening my steps to keep up with Diana as she marches down the hall.
“I think you know,” she says curtly.
“But I don’t!” Her coldness—and the unexpectedness of it—feels like a slap to the face. My eyes are stinging, and I have to blink away tears. “I haven’t done anything.”
She opens the office door and steps back to let me go in ahead of her. Mrs. Hoffman is already there, sitting stiff and straight-backed behind a desk. She gestures for me to take a seat on a couch across from her, and I sink into it, feeling small and scared. Diana perches on the arm of the couch as if she doesn’t want to be any closer to me than she has to.
“What is going on?” I ask. My heart is racing.
Mrs. Hoffman takes off her reading glasses and lets them dangle around her neck. Then she turns her laptop around to face me. I lean forward, confused, and start reading what’s on the screen.
I recognize the image immediately. “The school’s Facebook page?” I say, puzzled. Then I look more closely at where Mrs. Hoffman’s finger is pointing. There’s a post from the ballet school: Congratulations to our dancers who are auditioning for The Nutcracker! Good luck to you all!
And underneath it, in the comments, is my name. My face. And a comment—apparently my comment: Ya, cuz they’re gonna need it! especially Miss floppy-foot Edie and spaghetti-arms Melissa!! lmao!!
The air rushes out of my lungs in a whoosh. I can’t catch my breath. “I…that wasn’t…I didn’t…” I can barely form the words in my mouth. Mrs. Hoffman and Diana are both looking at me, their faces grave. “I didn’t write that,” I say. “I wouldn’t ever say that.” For a second, it seems so absurd that it’s almost funny. I can’t believe anyone would think I’d write that.
“There’s nothing to smile about,” Mrs. Hoffman says coldly.
“I’m not—I just—it’s so ridiculous! You can’t really believe I’d write that.”
Diana and Mrs. Hoffman exchange glances and say nothing, and a panicky feeling starts to build in my chest.
“Honestly,” I say. “It wasn’t me. I swear.”
“How do you think this happened, then?” Diana asks, and her voice is surprisingly gentle.
“I don’t know,” I say. “No one knows my password, so I don’t see…unless…”
“Unless?” She leans closer to me. “Unless what, Cassandra?”
I’m remembering last night. I borrowed Edie’s computer, tried unsuccessfully to Skype my folks, emailed a friend, checked Facebook. Did I log out? I can’t remember. Would Edie have posted as me, deliberately, to get me in trouble?
I don’t want to believe it.
“I don’t know,” I say. “But I know I didn’t post that comment. So I don’t know how—but someone else must have done it.” I can’t decide if I should mention Edie or not. I remember her following me to the restaurant bathroom, trying to get me to apologize to Melissa. I don’t know what she’ll make me do, she said.
I don’t see how anyone other than Edie could have done this—but I don’t know for sure, and I don’t want to accuse her if there’s even a small chance that I’m wrong.
“Cassandra, please tell the truth,” Mrs. Hoffman puts in. “People make mistakes, but lying only makes matters worse.”
I start to cry—I can’t help it. “I’m not lying,” I say. “I think I must have forgotten to sign out of Facebook and—well, someone else—posted in my name.” Even as I say it, I know how unlikely it must sound.
The two of them exchange glances again.
“I personally think we should withdraw her from the audition,” Mrs. Hoffman says. “At the very least.”
“No, please,” I say. I wipe the tears from my eyes and try to steady my voice. “I don’t know how this happened, but I swear I didn’t post that comment. I don’t even think that way.”
Diana looks thoughtful. “I must admit I was surprised when I saw this.” She looks at Mrs. Hoffman. “Cassandra has always seemed supportive of other girls in class.”
“It is very disappointing behavior,” Mrs. Hoffman says.
Diana nods. “Yes, it is. Inexcusable behavior.”
Mrs. Hoffman sighs heavily. “We’ll have to discuss this further and decide on an appropriate consequence,” she says. “In the meantime, I’d suggest that you delete that comment.”
My face burning, I sign in to Facebook, delete the awful words beside my name and log out again. “I hope no one else has seen it,” I say.
“So do I,” Diana says. “I suspect you’ll find out soon enough.” She stands up. “Go ahead. You’d better get to class. I’ll be there shortly.”