At the gym after school, the core troupe members were taking their spots on the floor mats. The spot where Ilanka had been during the routine at previous rehearsals had been filled in somehow, by moving this girl that way and that girl this way? It was as if she’d never been a part of it, and that felt right and true.

Their coach was talking about a certain sequence, and then she cued the music with a signal of her hand and the air filled with orchestra swells. The group began to move the way the best groups do, like a single living organism.

From here, from the outside, Ilanka saw beauty in it that she hadn’t been able to see from within. And when the girls somehow seemed to magically produce ribbons and began to dance with rainbow strips of satin, Ilanka let a small gasp escape her. Letting go was never easy, but sometimes it was necessary, and this was one of those times, maybe the first moment in her life that she’d made a conscious decision to walk away from something.

When the group finished and took a break for water, she approached her coach. She was going to miss her. Sort of. Not really. It was like having another mother in a way, and one was plenty.

“I’m sorry,” Ilanka said, “about just not showing up.”

Her coach just listened. That felt new, having a voice that people maybe heard.

“I’ve decided I’m done. It’s time for me to move on.”

“Well, we’re sad to see you go, of course. But if your heart isn’t in it, there’s no point.”

“Exactly.”

“Promise me you’re giving this up so you can find something else that really lights you up. Don’t give up because it’s hard work.”

“I promise,” Ilanka said. “I will. I’m not.”

Ilanka thought about saying goodbye to the team, but they were all scattered and chatting and it suddenly didn’t feel that important to make a big exit. She could text the girls she was closest to later if she wanted to.

In the subway station, she stood on the platform and felt the wind of a train coming from the tunnel and heading out toward Coney Island. She closed her eyes against the warm, smelly air and, when the train stopped and opened its doors, thought about hopping on, going all that way again, so she could feel sand in her feet and stare at the horizon and daydream about things she might do with all the free time she’d have now.

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Trapeze lessons?

Make more friends. Actual ones.

The future felt wide open.