“Oh my god.” Wendy ushers me into the apartment, pulling my bag off my shoulder. “Avery!” she yells into the living room, then turns to me. “What happened?”
I sniffle, too ashamed to say the words. I can only shake my head, mute.
“Did he hurt you?” Avery clatters into the hallway behind Wendy, her blonde hair scraped into a French braid. The two of them are puffed up, ready to pick a fight.
I think of the gentle way Alain held me. The worshipful look in his eye as he slid inside me, sealing us together.
“No,” I rasp. “But I’m out of the academy.” I suck in a shuddering breath. “I’ve lost everything. I’ll never be a dancer.”
They hiss, faces twisting. They know how much this hurts me. How hard I’ve worked for ballet.
“We’ll fight it,” Wendy says at once. “We’ll campaign. Or kick up a
