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Jaidev
“AVRIL? CAN YOU HEAR me? The signal’s not good.”
“I...yes...problem...” Her voice is full of static.
“Hold on.” I move down the corridor. “Is this better?”
“Yes, and we’ve got a problem. I’ve been trying to call you all morning. Camille’s mother has been in touch.”
Everything stops.
“No...” My voice breaks. “What... What does she want?”
“She’s got tickets to your show today. I was just speaking to Madame Cachelle, and she mentioned there’s quite an audience for this performance. I enquired as to who would be there, and she mentioned Gabrielle Blanc, and that is Camille’s mother, is it not?”
I take a deep breath. Yes, it is. We both know that. “Is she going to...”
“I don’t know what her plan is, son. But I’ve been trying to warn you. As far as I know, Gabrielle Blanc has never been to any Roseheart shows before. And it’s been widely publicized here you are dancing now.”
It has?
My head spins as I try to work out what Gabrielle Blanc’s plan could be. To cause trouble? To get revenge? Because that was the last thing she said to me. When I was at the hospital, trying to see Camille. When the police arrested me.
“You’ll pay for this,” Gabrielle Blanc had screamed at me, before some other people had stopped her. Maybe they’d restrained her, too. My back was to her, my hands cuffed by the cops. Maybe she’d been trying to get to me.
Maybe tonight she will.
“I’ve left a message for Madame Cachelle about this,” Avril continues, “but I do not know if she’s seen it, and so I suggest you tell one of the company staff. Possibly security. They have security guards, right? Because I do not like this. We all know how unstable the Blancs are.”
“Stop,” I try to say. Camille was never unstable. But I saw how the other dancers ganged up on her, gaslit her, made her think she was going crazy.
“There’s no other reason for her to be at this show. No other reason to hang around ballet companies. She certainly didn’t approve of Camille dancing.”
Camille had had an uphill struggle with her mother the whole time. Gabrielle Blanc never understood how ballet is a part of a dancer’s soul, how you can’t just stop.
“Well, no, I think she’s got a relative at Roseheart’s company. Victoria,” I say. Didn’t Victoria say she was related to Camille when she threatened me? She’d said family, I’m sure, and at the time I assumed she just meant how all dancers are family. But this would make sense. “Maybe a cousin of Camille or something. Gabrielle could have already got tickets to see her, not knowing she’d be removed from the tour.”
“Then there’s no reason for her still to attend.”
“Well, maybe she doesn’t want to waste the money.” I look at my watch. “Look, Avril, I really have to go now and get ready. I’ve still got to go to costuming and makeup. But I’m sure this isn’t going to be a problem. I mean, she can hardly do anything.”
Or is that just me wishful thinking?
But Gabrielle Blanc can’t do anything.
Except I’ve suddenly got visions of her interrupting the ballet to tell everyone I murdered her daughter.
And I didn’t.
It was an accident. I never meant to drop her.
“Just be careful,” Avril says.
I promise her that I will and that I’ll call tonight, let her know how it’s gone. My phone buzzes as I end the call. There’s a voicemail message on my phone. I roll my eyes. It’s probably just Avril panicking. She must’ve tried to phone me earlier. If there’s one thing that woman does well, it’s panicking.
I click on to listen, getting ready to press the button to delete it as soon as I hear Avril’s voice.
But it’s not Avril’s voice.
It’s Taryn’s. And she’s screaming.
“Help! Help me!”
There’s a clattering noise. Fast breathing.
And then: “I’m going to make sure you get what you deserve.” But that’s not her. That’s a guy. That’s Xavier? “I don’t like liars. And I don’t like murderers. And Taryn Foster, I don’t like you.”
My head pounds. There’s more screaming, screaming from Taryn. I can hear her begging him not to do...something? I don’t know what. Oh God.
The voicemail ends just as she screams again.
Nausea rises in me. My blood rushes to my ears. I feel sicker and I dial her number. It rings and rings. No answer.
I curse.
“You all right, mate?”
I look up to see Trent.
“It’s Taryn,” I say. “She’s being attacked. Call the police, get help. Uh, the academy studios. I think she’s there.” And before he can say or do anything, I’m running.
The academy grounds have never felt so far away from the company as they do right now. I’m strong, a good sprinter, but time seems to run in slow motion as I rush to the studios. Everything inside me pounds.
What if I’m too late?
No. I can’t think about that.
I yank open the building door and skid inside, gravel flying in with me. I run faster and faster, harder and harder.
“Taryn?” I shout. Shit, which studio was it she and Teddy were in?
Teddy.
Did he lure her there? He and Xavier were roommates, friends. I inhale too deeply, nearly end up choking and—
A scream cuts through the air.
I force myself to go faster. Turn right. All the doors are open to all the studios, except one. That one. The door of the one I dropped Taryn off before is now shut.
I run for it. “Taryn? Taryn, are you in there?” I grab the handle. It doesn’t open. Shit. It’s locked.
I pound on the door, screaming.
“Let me in!”
I can hear movement inside. And a voice. A man’s voice. Muffled. Xavier’s.
“Xavier, I know it’s you! We all know. So just unlock this door and let her out. It’s over.”
“It’s not over until I say it’s over.” His words drive fear into me.
I listen, listen for sounds from Taryn. But there’s nothing.
Nothing.
###
SHE... SHE FELL...
I dropped her.
Slipped.
The sickening crack.
Her neck.
Labored breathing.
No scream.
Too silent.
Too much.
Too much nothingness.
###
“XAVIER!” I SCREAM. “Open this bloody door.”
I wait a second. But there are no sounds.
I step back from the door. My chest rises and falls too quickly. I’m breathing too fast, but I know what to do.
Another girl will not die.
I will not lose another of my dance partners.
I won’t lose Taryn.
I kick the door. Splintering wood.
I grunt and kick it again. And again, and again. I throw all my force and strength at it.
The door flies open.
Inside, Xavier is staring at me. I see something in his hand, something shiny and long that the light glints off.
A knife?
Taryn.
My heart pounds. I rush through the doorway, nearly stumbling on the shards of wood on the floor. And I see her. To the right. A slumped figure, curled up on the floor.
“Taryn!” I run straight for her. “Taryn, oh God.”
She moves, looks up at me. Her face is tear-stained and bloody.
Xavier shouts something, and I jerk toward him, getting ready, putting my hands up. Is he going to come at me with the knife? Hurt me?
But he’s looking toward the doorway. The doorway where Trent and Hazma and Mr. Vikas now are.
“Drop the weapon now,” Mr. Vikas shouts.
I run to Taryn, dropping down next to her. Her eyes are wild, full of fear.
“It’s all right,” I whisper to her. “I’ve got you.”