Eventually, we got back on the road. Somewhere between Rockville and Frederick, Colleen took my phone and found the playlist we’d made a couple of years ago. It started with Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” and ended with Mitski’s “Your Best American Girl” and had Lizzo, Shakira, and Beyoncé in between. We sang along to every song, our voices loud and wild and fervent.

Because we knew, maybe since a long time ago, maybe just since this trip, that broken hearts didn’t stay that way forever. That love paired with strength, whether it went into the most explosive grand jeté or the slow, steady push of your foot on the gas pedal, could change the world.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

I HELD ON TIGHT to that trip with Colleen and the fire it gave me as I drove to school on Monday, ready to fix things. Or try to, at least. Josie had missed the bus earlier, so she had to catch a ride with me.

We’d been giving each other the silent treatment again, ever since she’d snitched about rehearsal not being canceled. I was sure Josie had tattled partly because she was mad at me for missing her solo. But maybe, just like when she kept bringing up racism in ballet, she’d also done it because she cared.

“I’m sorry I missed your solo,” I said.

Josie’s head jerked up. “Um… transition much?”

“I won’t miss it next time.”

Josie blinked at me for a few seconds before staring out over the dashboard again, wide-eyed. She really hadn’t been expecting an apology from me, which was fair. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d apologized to her, either.

“So are they going to let you back into the musical?” she said after a minute.

“I don’t know.” My heart sped up. “I hope so.”

“Okay, well, we’re supposed to pick our dancers for the student showcase by next month, and I still need Noah and Laurel. So if they do let you back in, dance in front of them or something.”

I still didn’t know why she wanted them for her piece so badly. Sure, Laurel’s battements were impressive, and Noah’s footwork was swift. But there was something missing. Whenever I watched them dance, it was like they were too busy trying to impress everyone with their skills to really feel the music or express an emotion.

“Do you want to know what I think? About your dance?” I asked.

Josie stared at me suspiciously. It had been years since I’d taken enough of an interest in her dancing to freely offer advice. “Um, sure.”

“I don’t think Noah and Laurel are right for it. They don’t have feeling in their dancing, and from what you were saying about Strange Harmonies, it needs emotional expression, not only technique.”