Page 66 of Jessica, Not Her Real Name

Her mother’s head tilted slightly, assessing. “With only one suitcase?”

Julia stepped forward, determined to push past her if she had to.

“You’re going with that boy, aren’t you?”

Julia stopped mid-step.

Her mother scoffed softly. “You think I haven’t noticed? Sneaking out at night. Skipping practice in the morning. The bruises on your neck. The smell of marijuana on your clothes.”

Julia’s jaw clenched. “You don’t notice anything about me, Mom. Not since I was twelve. Not since Natalie started showing more promise than me.”

Her mother exhaled, long and slow. “That isn’t true.”

Julia met her mother’s eyes and held the gaze. “Isn’t it?”

For the first time, her mother looked at her—really looked at her. And the anger in her face shifted. It was still sharp, still cutting, but now edged with something Julia hadn’t expected.

Worry.

For a second, it threw her.

She wasn’t used to her mother caring what she did, only how she appeared while doing it. The worry looked out of place on her face, like it didn’t quite belong there. And yet, it was there. Real. Raw. Julia blinked, and for just a breath of a moment, she felt something soften in her chest.

Was I wrong about her?

Has she always cared, just never shown it the way I needed her to?

But then the steel came back into her mother’s posture, the lines of judgment reforming like armor, and the flicker of connection vanished as quickly as it had come.

Her mother straightened. “So you’re just leaving? Throwing everything away? Your ballet, too?”

Her hands trembled, her whole body wired with adrenaline, but beneath the fear was something else—a lightness, a strange, intoxicating sense of relief.

She met her mother’s gaze, her voice steadier than she thought possible. “Ballet was alwaysyourdream, Mom. I think we both know it was never mine.”

She descended the stairs, shoulders squared, forcing herself to believe she was making the right choice. The weight of her mother’s disappointment pressed against her back, but ahead was something else.

Freedom.

Sliding into her BMW, she pulled out of the drive and onto the narrow lanes of Lake Forest. Her heart was still hammering from the confrontation, but already she felt lighter.

The trees lining the road cast long morning shadows, their leaves rustling in the warm breeze. She rolled the window down, letting the fresh air hit her face as she turned onto the highway. Every mile she put between herself and that house felt like peeling off another layer of suffocating expectations.

Then, in the rearview mirror, she spotted it.

A black SUV.

Her stomach clenched. It was probably nothing. Just another car on the road. But something about it, its dark-tinted windows, the way it hugged the lane behind her, made her uneasy.

She switched lanes. So did the SUV.

Her pulse quickened.

She eased her foot onto the gas, putting some distance between them. After a few bends, it disappeared from view. She exhaled, rolling her shoulders. Just paranoia.

But when she glanced in the mirror again?—

The SUV was back.