A flash of hope lit up inside me. Mrs. Sorenson’s voice mail had sounded so final. But if anyone could change her mind, it was Diya. This was my last chance. On Monday, I was going to apologize to Mrs. Sorenson and Ms. Langford. On Monday, I was going back to rehearsal.

I’ll be there. Thank you, I texted back.

I owed you. Now we’re even.

Also you’re welcome.

I smiled as the swinging doors flew open. The same girls who had fluttered into the room a couple of hours before were streaming out, breathing fast and glistening with sweat. I spotted Colleen in the crowd.

When she reached me, her eyes had a faraway look. “Ready to go?” I asked gently.

Colleen nodded and we walked to the car in silence. I knew she had to collect herself before saying anything. I’d wait until she was ready.

It was only after Colleen had climbed in, pulled the door shut, and flung her dance bag onto the backseat that she made any kind of sound at all. It was a long, shaky sigh, which she let out as she buried her face in her hands. I knew it wasn’t a sign of how the audition went, only the release of the metric ton of pressure she’d felt inside the studio.

“I want it so much,” she finally whispered. “And everyone was so good. So good.” She lifted her head. “I hate this part.”

I put my hand on her arm and squeezed. My grand vision of Colleen on the Metropolitan Opera House stage could only happen if the people in that room back there let her in. At the moment, we could only hope they would see how good she was in the crowd of talented girls. That they would accept her into the ABT summer intensive, and then ask her to stay at the school permanently, and then hire her into the company, and then promote her up the ranks from corps to soloist to principal. It was a long, exhausting road, and it would be full of many more moments like this one, I was sure.

But she could do it. I knew she could.

Colleen wiped her fingers across her eyes. “I know I can do it,” she said, echoing the words in my head. “It’s just…”

“I know.” Then I was crying, too. We cried because doing something brave didn’t always make you feel brave. We cried because fixing things was hard, and change was slow. We cried for all the ways that loving something with all your heart can break it at the same time.