In my room, I fell back onto my comforter and stared at my blank peach walls. I closed my eyes, but even though I’d had a full day of school and rehearsal, I felt wide awake. I opened my laptop and typed Giselle into the YouTube search bar.

Then I erased it and typed Beautiful Girl Singin’ in the Rain. A clip from the movie came up. I watched it, glad that Ms. Langford had put a lot more choreography into her version. I played it again and found myself standing up, doing the routine, my bare feet brushing over the soft carpet. After I stepped into the ending pose with my arm raised, I felt my body arching back into a slow cambré.

It wasn’t in the choreography, but it fit the delicate dip in the music. I straightened up, feeling a slight pull in my back muscles. I hadn’t stretched them properly in forever.

I got on my hands and knees and slowly arched my back up, then down, then up again, stretching the sore spot. I breathed in deeply as I held each position, feeling my muscles warm, loosen, expand. I stretched my obliques, then my shoulders, then my hamstrings. Finally, I stood up, dabbing at a light sheen of sweat on my forehead. I glanced at my bed, but I still didn’t feel like crawling into it.

I wandered over to my window and peeled back the curtain. Across the street, an upstairs light was on in Jude’s house. I wondered if it was his room. I stared at the lit-up window until a text from Colleen came in.

Did I just spend two hours making Ferdinand gifs? Yes. Do I regret it? No.

Underneath was a gif of Ferdinand sashaying down the sidewalk to the beat of “Stayin’ Alive.” A wave of missing Colleen swept through me. I wanted to see all the Ferdinand gifs, and laugh at them until my eyes watered, and make a few of my own while lying next to her on the constellation rug in her room.

If I could text back, I’d compliment Ferdinand’s swagger. I’d say I was sorry for disappearing. I’d tell her about Jude.

Did I show Jude my scars? Yes. Do I regret it…

I thought back to that moment, that suddenly overwhelming urge to give some of my hurt away. How Jude’s eyes were kind and sad when he looked at me, like he understood, even though he couldn’t.

I looked again at the lit-up window across the street. Showing Jude my scars was embarrassing, and I was definitely going to avoid him for a while, but I couldn’t bring myself to say I regretted it. Not even in a fake text message to Colleen.

I had no idea what that meant.

December

CHAPTER ELEVEN