“Maybe.” Maybe ballet was like beautiful dynamite. Stunning and dangerous at the same time, so you couldn’t love it simply. You had to figure out how to handle it. How to love the beautiful parts and defuse the dangerous ones. The problem was, I didn’t know how I was supposed to do that. Especially when I wasn’t in that world anymore.

Jude and I sat together for a while, the muffled sounds of the trampoliners just outside the door. Somehow, like in the lobby at Winter Formal, Jude filled the strangest settings with the kind of peace that made me feel like I could talk about anything.

“I didn’t realize that, about ballet,” he said after a while. “I’m sorry. It sucks when something you love has such backward ideas about certain things.”

“Yeah,” I said, remembering Jude saying his dad wanted him to do “manly” stuff like sports instead of the musical. I guess it was hard for some people to see beyond what they thought someone should be. A ballerina. A boy.

“You said before that your dad didn’t like you doing the musical. And Margot said you weren’t in it last year.”

Jude nodded. “Even after he left, I still heard his voice in my head. And last year part of me thought maybe he was right. Maybe I shouldn’t do it. It was so weird because I knew I didn’t believe that. And I knew that year would suck without the musical. And it did.” He shook his head. “But that voice… I guess I’d heard it so often it got inside me.”

I mulled that over, wondering how much of Kira’s voice was still inside me.

Jude looked at the clock. It was a few minutes after his shift was supposed to start. We stood up slowly. “Well, if you ever want to talk, about your dad or whatever, you can text me,” I said. “Or, you know, we could just talk, like we’re doing now. Well, not… we don’t have to be at Fly Zone. You know what I mean.” As I rambled, Jude smiled softly.

“I do. I really like talking to you.”

“I really like talking to you, too.”

He took a breath, like he wanted to say something else. But instead, he leaned closer. His eyes bored into mine—intense, inquisitive. I felt myself leaning in, too.

Until the loud crackle of the walkie-talkie startled us both. “Jude Jeppson, report to the Dodgeball Zone. Over.”

Jude fumbled with the walkie-talkie and brought it to his mouth. “On my way,” he said. Then he hesitated. “Over and out,” he added quietly.

I smiled, trying to hide how breathless I was, and slung my bag over my shoulder.

“See you tomorrow? At rehearsal?” Jude said as we walked to the door.