“Harper, don’t put too much pressure on yourself,” Mom said. “If this studio isn’t a fit, we can try another one. I just thought since DanceStarz is a newer studio that has only been open a few years, it might be easier for you to acclimate. Be a big fish in a smaller pond.”

“Harperfish.” Hailey sucked in her cheeks to make a fish face at me. She cracked herself up.

“Also,” Mom continued, “DanceStarz is the most convenient to our new house. There’s only a few weeks left of summer break, and once school starts, I want to find a job and it would be hard to drive you far. Plus, the other studios have already had competition team tryouts. We’re lucky DanceStarz is letting newcomers audition. Well, worst-case scenario, you could wait until next year. . . .”

“Not helpful, Mom.” I raised an eyebrow at her.

“Oh, I’m babbling, aren’t I?” My mom smiled at me. “I’m sorry. I just want what’s best for you.”

I knew my mom got nervous for me too. I did appreciate my mom. Not only did she drive me to the studio practically every day, she had to do things like hot-glue thousands of rhinestones on competition costumes at the last minute and sew my hair into bizarre headpieces with feathers or things while I yelped in pain.

“Mom!” Hailey waved to get my mom’s attention. “I need to get something from the car.”

“Now?” Mom sighed, then turned to me. “Are you okay alone for a minute?”

“Yes!” Remember how I said I appreciate my dance mom? I also appreciate having her leave—so I can get into my head and into the dance zone, I mean.

I looked around the reception area as I waited. There was a huge DanceStarz logo above the main desk. DanceStarz colors were pink, white, and gold, which I had to admit looked pretty cool. DanceStarz was much brighter than my old studio, with white walls and huge floor-to-ceiling windows. (It was particularly strange to look out the window and see palm trees.)

“Harper!” The woman working the front desk called my name. “Vanessa will see you in fifteen minutes. You may get ready and stretch in Studio C. It’s the first door on the left down the corridor.”

Here we go.

Five, six, seven, eight.

I counted off as if I were about to start a dance routine while I walked toward the room where my fate would be determined. I passed a vending machine and water fountain as I made my way down the hallway. It was bright too, with the Florida sun streaming in through the windows. I passed Studio A, a huge studio lined with more windows, and Studio B, a smaller one. Nobody was in either of them.

And I reached Studio C.