After school was dance class, but he wasn’t on the bus because of basketball practice. Rose felt a flutter in her stomach that was growing familiar. When Daniel wasn’t there, it seemed so urgent to see him. Then, when he was, she clammed up.

She stayed late after class to rehearse her solo with Muriel. They had choreographed it together, but it was loose enough for Rose to change things as she went along, to fit her mood.

Muriel’s studio was a long, high-ceilinged room above Robando’s Real Estate and Beckley’s Insurance, in an old-fashioned building facing the town common. It had once been an apartment, but Muriel had taken out all the walls and redecorated it with professional efficiency, making it look like a real studio, with an office and dressing room at the back. She left the four floor-to-ceiling windows in the big main practice room, and when it got dark you could see the lights winking through the trees. Rose was moving across the floor toward the windows in a series of traveling jumps when it happened. The music urged her forward, soaring from Muriel’s big speakers at the other end of the room. Vivaldi’s Violin Concerto in C minor, II Sospetto — it whirled and climbed, broke like a heartbreak, then climbed in joy again. And as Rose danced toward the lights of the common, the windows suddenly vanished. She felt herself rise off the floor, not just a jump but flying through the air as she’d done with Nancy, in a great rush of wind, music and dark. Up and up, with Nancy’s voice calling out. It was cold. Icy, Ice crystals formed on her bare arms, threatening to drag her down from the height. She tried to keep moving, though, because Nancy had begun to scream.

“Rose! Rose! For God’s sake, stop!”

Not Nancy. Muriel screaming.

She banged hard up against the ice-cold window. Her face stared back wide-eyed, reflected against the flickering dark. Muriel rushed across the room. “Are you all right? Are you hurt? My God, you could have gone right through the glass.” She took off her big paisley shawl and wrapped it around Rose, hugged her safe with her hard, muscular arms. Slowly, Rose became aware of Muriel’s familiar, expensive perfume and the faint odor of sweat.

“What on earth happened to you?”

“Flying,” Rose said. “It was like flying.”

“Rose! Look at me. Are you all right?”

She was stunned but she was coming back. “Yes. Fine now.”

“You frightened me.”

“Shouldn’t have skipped lunch. I got dizzy,” she lied.

“I thought as much.” Muriel held her at arm’s length, searching Rose’s blue eyes. Muriel’s own eyes were deep and brown, with crinkled edges that made her look as if she’d seen a lot of sadness and pain.