“We can talk in private,” she says, but I am not moving. Maybe it’s ridiculous; maybe I worry too much, expecting something bad. Still, dread’s curling around my heart.

“Please tell me right now.” I try to lighten my tone. “You know, if this is a joke, I am going to be just a little bit upset.”

She looks at me for a long moment. Other dance students sweep by us, their voices a blur.

“Funding,” she says, her voice serious. “We can talk about it when we go upstairs.”

Funding? There’s a scholarship, full funding for the summer. Full funding that’s supposed to come along with the spot—a scholarship for the winner. I know I read that. I wouldn’t have applied if there wasn’t.

“A position and a scholarship,” I say. “The website said that.”

Carly shakes her head, hesitates. “Addie—there’s just one scholarship.” Her face is so sympathetic. “It’s need-based, not talent-based—”

“And I didn’t need it?”

She purses her lips at me. I know I sound ungrateful—someone else needed it more. It’s just that without it, the expanse between here and there is six thousand dollars wide, and impossible.

“There’s got to be other ways to fund you,” Carly says, her hand on my sleeve. Not there definitely are. Not everything’s fine; don’t worry. My heart disappears into a sinkhole. “I can ask around…,” she says, her voice trailing off.

“For six thousand dollars?” I say numbly.

“Loans, maybe…,” Carly continues, and then stops. She’s probably remembered I’m a little too young to apply for a bank loan and my mother wouldn’t be approved even if she agreed to put herself on the hook. Six thousand bucks is like six thousand unicorns riding six thousand rockets over Candy Mountain.

“We’ll figure something out,” she says after a moment.

I don’t let her take my hand. I’m breathing too fast. I press my hand to my chest. It’s all out of control. I can’t catch it. Shaking my head. Why didn’t I know this could happen? How could I have not known this? What am I going to do?

“I can give you a few days to get back to me,” Carly says. “Maybe we can—”

“I’m sorry,” I gasp. Still breathless. “I have to—” I back away. Can’t talk about this anymore.

“Addie, please,” she says. “Don’t go.”

“I have to!” I snap, too loud, too harsh.

Without another word, I turn and thunder down the stairs.

4