Page 50 of Second Position (Astor Hill #2)

Gen

The pointe shoe I’m breaking in lets out a loud rip as I work the shank, using scissors to cut away the sole.

I remove the nail from the underside of the insert, tugging hard until it finally gives.

There’s something cathartic about the entire process.

From the outside looking in, it appears that I’m destroying something beautiful and delicate, but in reality I’m making the shoe stronger, more effective.

I can practically hear Madam Auch’s laughter at the terrified look on my face after she stomped on the box of my first pair.

Can still hear her thick french accent saying, “A real dancer knows that there is nothing worse than an unscathed pair of shoes. Anything not utterly destroyed is weak! Useless!”

“Three.” My voice comes out gravely from hours of silence. He hands me the container and Sloane eyes me, concern flashing across her features. Jean clocks it immediately.

“Don’t worry, this is classic Genevieve Dupont.

Crunch time for her consists of eight hour days and dozens of pointe shoes.

” I focus on my salad, not acknowledging the worry still visible on Sloane’s face.

“Shit,” Jean says with a mouthful of lettuce and begins to stand.

“I left our Diet Cokes in the car—be right back.” He walks briskly through the double doors, leaving Sloane eyeing me, the silence in the space thick and awkward.

I can tell she wants me to talk. She’s tip toed around it and while I’ve given her most of the details of our fight I’ve redacted all mention of my feelings.

She hasn’t really left my side since I saw Grant on the basketball court. From my understanding they had an argument of their own which hasn’t really been resolved, but in an effort to not think about Grant, I haven’t pressed the subject.

“You don’t have to hide that you're sad from us, you know.” She puts her salad container down and rests her elbows on her knees, using her fists to prop up her head.

I sigh into my salad, realizing the talk about the fight, about him, is imminent.

“Spill girl. Friendship was put on God's green earth to lower our therapy bill, besides—I live for other people’s trauma. Helps me avoid my own.” She wiggles her eyebrows and for the first time in days I feel a laugh form in the middle of my chest. I shake my head.

“Am I that transparent?” I put the salad container beside me, folding my own arms across my chest.

“Gen, everyone’s transparent when the people around them are botherin’ to look.” She squeezes my hand and a lump forms in my throat because if anyone made me feel seen, it was Grant .

“I miss him.” It comes out quietly, my jaw clenching like if I grind my teeth hard enough the feelings will crumble under them.

Sloane lays her head on my shoulder lacing her fingers in mine and I let my head fall against hers, we sit in silence for a second, the classical music in the practice room a steady hum.

“It’s probably better this way.” I push the strands of hair collecting at the side of my face behind my ear, trying to smooth them back into my bun. She gives me a confused look and sits up straight, arranging her salad container to take a bite.

“I just…I would’ve fucked it up…eventually.

I always do.” I sigh, picking at my own plate, my appetite having evaporated the moment my mind went to him.

“I never deserved him.” I say it to myself, carelessly letting the omission that I’ve wanted so badly to not be true the past few months materialize in front of us.

“Never deserved him ?” she asks incredulously, her fork frozen in midair, making her look almost comical. I sigh, shifting in my spot on the floor.

“I know this may come as a surprise to you but historically, I haven’t been seen as the most likable person,” I wince, the memory of every person who has told me as much swirling in my brain, “and as much as it probably will pain you to hear this, your brother is the epitome of likable. He’s good Sloane, like an actual good person, not someone who just pretends to be.

Whatever was going on with us was always destined to fail…

.” I look down into my salad container, hopelessness sweeping through me at the realization that I will never be good enough for Grant Fielder. “I was always going to let him down.”

Sloane’s eyes widen, shock and then frustration sweep her features. She sets her salad container down and quickly gets to her feet holding her arm out to me.

“Come on, let’s go.” She raises one eyebrow expectantly.

“Where are we going?” I squint at her confused.

“We are goin’ outside because you clearly need to touch some grass.

” I roll my eyes and she grins, plopping back down beside me.

“I’m serious. You make yourself out to be this total monster, but I’ve been here for months and I literally haven’t heard a single person say one bad thing about you.

Except for maybe Olivia, but cut the girl some slack—her boyfriend is obsessed with you.

You’re a good person, Gen. Bad people don’t sit around ponderin’ their morality, I promise you that. ”

“Your brother doesn’t seem to think so.”

“My brother’s a dick.”

“Sloane!” I snort, and we both burst out laughing, Sloane’s warm throaty laugh melting into my own and a small part of me feels a little bit better just knowing I’m not completely alone.

“What did I miss?” Jean slides in, eyes wide as if we both have gone completely insane.

“We are tryin’ to figure out ways Gen can win back my no good, dirty, rotten, brother—who might I add really doesn’t deserve her .

” Sloane pops a crouton in her mouth and for a second I wonder what actually happened between them.

I’m happy to have Sloane in my corner, but I’m sure Grant is missing her being in his.

“Well, what were you guys fighting about before… you know .” Jean’s trying to be kind by not mentioning the real issue—that I left Grant to go see Will. That our little fight may have been the dynamite, but I lit the match by leaving him at that party .

“The secret…” Sloane does this wavy motion with her hands making her voice sound deep and ghoulish.

“It’s giving tour guide at a haunted house.”

“I was going for more Casper the friendly ghost,” she says to him with a wink.

“Can you guys be serious for five minutes?” I whine.

Jean snickers and Sloane gives me the most pitiful look in human history. “Honey…we all know what you have to do to feel like a ‘good person’.” She uses air quotes on the last words, then pats my hand as I stare back at her, puzzled.

“You can’t seriously not know what she’s referring to?” Jean asks incredulously and I feel blood rush to my cheeks as I give Sloane my best ‘You told him?’ face. “C’mon Gen…it’s obvious…the secret…?”

“You have to tell Olivia,” Sloane says simply, as if she’s not suggesting I tell my mortal enemy of the past three years the most earth shattering news.

“I can’t do that.”

“And now why is that?”

I rack my brain for an answer but the simple truth is I’m embarrassed.

Embarrassed for how I protected Will for so long.

For how I let myself lie so carelessly, not taking into account anyone around me, for the boy I used to love.

And if I’m being honest, after everything, I really don’t think Olivia should have to face the consequences of the truth.

Now that I see Will clearly it’s like I see her clearly too, and she never deserved how he treated her—how I treated her.

“She’s going to be destroyed…” I say it more to myself but I feel Sloane’s arm wrap around me.

“At first, maybe.” She gently squeezes my shoulder. “But she’ll be okay.” Jean gives a little nod of agreement .

I let out a long breath, Madam Auch’s voice in my head yet again.

“Anything not utterly destroyed is weak!”

I nod. “Okay.”

The sky is blue over ahead as I suck in a deep breath, trying to give Olivia room to process everything.

I’ve been going over exactly what I planned to tell her over and over again in my head for the past two days.

Sloane coached me through gently breaking the news more times than I can count and yet, this all feels wrong.

The secret like a loaded gun that I just pulled the trigger on.

I glance over, seeing Olivia attempt to wrap her mind around the news that Will and I spent time with Lily that summer, that he and Lily were together.

She rolls her lips together, confusion riddling her features, mixed with the deep understanding that what I’m saying is true.

“When did they break up?” Her voice is hollow and I know this crushed her, that I played such a large part in blowing up her life. I feel rotten, like all my worst qualities are bubbling to the surface, pushing through every pore.

“I’m not really sure…but I know it was Lily who did it, ended things.

” She sighs, her shoulders sagging only momentarily with exhaustion.

“Will was torn up for weeks until he saw her at the kegger and then...well…you know.” I can barely get the words out, my eyes tracing the students out on the lawn through the shrubbery of the campus garden I pulled her into.

What I would give to be one of them, to not have to deal with all of this.

If I didn’t have Will in my life maybe I would be just another student, lounging on the lawn of the courtyard before class.

Instead I’m here, single handedly ruining a girl's life, and for what?

What did I actually get out of this arrangement?

I bite the inside of my cheek and am at a total loss for words as I hear her quiet sniffling beside me. “Look...I know this is complete shit.”

She snorts, amusement shining through her tears. “You could say that again.”

I give her a sad smile, fishing a tissue from my dance bag.

I sigh, thinking again about all the pain, not just hers but his too, now.

I replay how he was so hurt when Lily died and how then, instead of crawling out of that pit of sadness, he dug it deeper, made it more expansive and pulled others in with him.

“I know I shouldn’t be defending him—trust me when I say I’m the last person who wants to do that right now.

” I breathe, trying to form my thought. “But Will really does care about you.” And even though I’ve denied that sentiment for so long, I know what I’m saying is the truth.

Will does care. Otherwise she’d have known by now.

That doesn’t mean anything he’s done is right—if anything it makes it all worse.

But even so, there is a shred of the boy I knew left, which means there’s a tiny piece of my heart, sharp and jagged, that will always be hoping he’s okay.

She gives me a teary smile and I return it, my body flooding with resolve.

I can’t help but feel proud of myself, feel like I’ve finally broken the toxic cycle of him and I.

Like me choosing to plant myself on a side that isn’t his, to stand by what I think is right, finally cut the rope between us.

“Also, it’s important to note that Ben is very clearly in love with you.

” I think about the way Will’s older brother has been behaving the past few months, how much he’s changed and realize how much I’ve changed since spending time with Grant.

“I know you probably feel betrayed right now and rightfully so. Just, I don’t know, don’t write them off completely.

” I know what I’m saying is crazy, see how her eyebrows raise with this less than sage advice, but for whatever reason her giving Ben another chance is the little piece of hope I need to know maybe Grant will give me one, too.

I move to stand, grabbing my bag, when Olivia grabs my arm. “Gen…” her eyes search mine, her face flushed from crying. “Thank you.”

I blink speechless, tears forming in my eyes.

Swallowing, I nod my head then turn. I feel the leaves crunching under my feet as they carry me out of the courtyard.

The sun shining just slightly brighter than it had less than an hour ago and I let myself hang on to the hope that people can be forgiven. That they can change.