I’m back in the parking lot of Madame Pompadour’s ballet studio, five or six years old, rushing after my mother, who’s storming away. Not understanding why Madame told me I was trop grosse for ballet. Remembering how my mother slammed the doors of the car.

“It’s just baby fat,” she said firmly, gripping the steering wheel. “What does she know? She turned to me, looking fierce. “You’re still going to dance, Adeleina.”

And I have. I will. I’ll dance at every size. I’ll have a career at any size. I won’t shrink myself to fit the world. I’ll make the world shape itself to fit me.

I startle when Taylor knocks on the bathroom door, singsonging, “Yoo-hoo, hot stuff, get your butt out here.”

I swing open the door and smile at him. He frowns, and that is not what I intended. He leans in and says, “You okay?”

I shrug, summon up casualness. “My mom. Mom drama. Dramama?”

He snorts. “Does she have a new fasting diet to try?”

“She broke up with the new boyfriend,” I tell him. I wave it away. I don’t want to talk about my mom. “Are we still plotting our choreography?”

“Yes!” he says. “And we have to come up with your act!”

“Right!” I say. I am not going to bring us down with all my worrying about naked skin and spotlights and audiences rejecting me. I’ll figure it out. Well, I have to figure it out.

“Dickstorm picking up,” Nevaeh is muttering from the couch. She shakes her phone in the air.

“Ugh,” Katherine says, peering at the screen.

“Let’s not discuss,” Nevaeh says, tossing aside her phone. “It’s time to figure out an act for Addie!”

I hold up my hands. “Sexy bonsai tree!”

Nevaeh shakes her head at me.

“Well, if you’re against that genius idea, I’ll have to keep thinking,” I say. “In the meantime, have you figured out how you’re going to transition from the split?”

“Oh yeah, good question!” she says.

They go back to playing around with their own choreography and let me sit on my own plans for the moment, which is great but I’m worried. After all the inspiration at Vaudezilla, and with all the energy and enthusiasm and love right here, I don’t understand why my brain is still veering away from imagining myself onstage. Those performers didn’t look so different from me. Right?