• AMALIA •

My father and brothers (and Jenna) get here half an hour after Frankie does, in two separate cars. I meet them out front, Frankie having already sat in the theatre.

"Hi, sweetheart." My dad says, smiling at me as he wraps his arms around me in a hug. I squeeze his waist, leaning my head on his chest. "Are you okay?" He asks gently. I nod.

I say hello to all of my siblings before telling them the directions to the seating hall. "I have to go finish getting ready. Bye."

"Bye, kid." Cole says as he ruffles my hair. I slap his hand away.

     "I just curled it!"

     He grins as I rush off, back to the dressing rooms. It's empty—the rest of the team doing a group dance I couldn't learn because of the magazine, which I haven't heard anything about.

     Maybe Frankie was correct; I'm not pretty or talented enough to do it so they went with another person.

     I frown and grab my costume, going into one of the small rooms to get changed. When I'm dressed, I step out.

     Archer is here.

     "Hey." He says. His eyes rake over me, starting at my pointe shoes before working their way up to my face. "You look pretty." He says.

     I smile. "Thank you." I walk back to where I was sitting before and drop down into the chair, adding a bit more concealer under my eyes because I look tired.

I always look tired now.

"I'm excited to watch you." He says, coming to stand behind me. He rests his hands on the back of my seat and smiles at me in the mirror. "Are you still nervous?" He asks.

I shake my head. "Not really."

The door bursts open. Kiera walks in, out of breath. "Amalia...your solo...two minutes..."

My eyes widen. "Okay, okay, I'm coming." I say quickly, standing up.

She leaves, and I rush out of the room. Archer is behind me, I can tell.

"Amalia to the stage."

"Fuck!" I exclaim as I run into the backstage room. I turn back to see that Archer isn't behind me, and frown. But I run out on stage and get into my starting position.

The lights blind me, but I squint a little to search the audience. My family is in the middle—in, arguably, the best seats—and Frankie sits a few rows behind them.

And Archer is practically sprinting to sit with his mother and little sister, who are by Kiera. He smiles at me, but I don't get to smile back before my music starts.

• ARCHER •

I made it.

I smile at Amalia, and her eyes brighten before she begins moving. Her leg extends behind her, and she leans down so both her legs draw one straight line upwards. Then she puts it down and extends a foot, using it to twirl herself around.

I take pictures of her as she moves. For the first portion of her dance, there are no words and she looks amazing. But when the singing is introduced, her talent multiplies by ten.

She pirouettes—I only know that word because of Ally—an emotion full of feeling on her face. She portrays hurt, portrays sadness and anger and loneliness, but I know that's the opposite of who she is. This song sounds sad, but Amalia Romano is the best person I know. She's kind, beautiful and strong, talented and gifted.

She extends a hand toward the side, eyebrows knitted together in something like longing, but then she pulls her fingers back, her eyes tracing them as they move to her chest. She holds both hands there, bending down completely before springing back up. Her hands shoot off to the sides, and she leaps, as graceful and majestic as always, toward the back of the stage. When she lands, she keeps one leg out, bending it and lifting both arms above her head.

She spins out of it again, that expression still on her face. I wish more than anything that I could decipher it, could play the puzzle that is her emotions. To be let in to that special place where all her feelings lay would be the highest of honours. Part of me thinks I've known Amalia my entire life. I might as well—she makes me feel like no one ever has before. She makes me feel like I could scream and cry and sob in front of her, and she wouldn't judge me. Just take me in her arms, smooth back my hair with those soft hands and assure me it'll all be okay.

And I'd believe her.

She's mesmerising. Completely and utterly beautiful as she dances, moving her body in the best ways to the music. I wish I could be closer. I wish I kept my promise to be front row, but I was in such a rush and the last thing I wanted was to miss a second of this.

Ally grins the entire time, which only makes me like Amalia more. I always told myself that if Alexandra didn't like someone, I wouldn't like them either.

But Ally loves Amalia.

And I think I do too.

Is it too early to tell? I don't think so. How else am I supposed to describe this feeling in my heart? When I'm with her, I'm the happiest person alive. When I see her smile, it fills me with adoration and all I want to do is press my lips to hers. I want to be the reason she smiles. I want to be the reason she lets out that angelic, prized laugh. I want to be the reason her eyes light up when she walks into a room. I want to be the reason she's happy. Or excited. Or even angry. She could shout at me, she could do anything to me, and all I'd ask is that she'd look at me while she did it, so I could see her. Could know that I've captured her attention, even if it's just for a moment.

The music begins to slow down, and I think I frown because I don't want it to be over yet. She looks so fucking beautiful up on that stage, surrounded by those lights, that all I want to do is run up there with her and hug her.

She ends, finishing looking away from the stage, and I want to shout for her to look at me so I can see the wild green of her eyes. But I don't, because as she walks off the stage and the whole theatre erupts in applause and cheers, she does look at me.

My heart skips a beat when my gaze connects with hers. She smiles, her lips tilting up a fraction, and I grin back as I clap.

Then she disappears behind the curtains.

• AMALIA •

My dad catches me when I run over to him, lifting me off the ground to hug me. He has a huge grin on his face, and this whole situation makes me feel like I'm twelve again, running to him after finishing my first ever solo while being back home.

     "You did amazing, baby." He whispers into my hair, holding me tightly as though he's remembering that too. "I love you so much."

     He sets me down, but doesn't let go. "I love you too."

     He kisses my cheek. "I'm so proud of you, Amalia."

     My eyes water, but then I'm being put in a headlock.

     I squeal as Mason kisses my cheek. He turns me around and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a hug. "You didn't do horribly." He says.

     I shove him.

     He laughs and hugs me tighter. "You know you did amazing, piccolo orsacchiotto."
(T—Little teddy bear.)

     I smile.

     As I'm congratulated by the rest of my family, a small river of pride flows through me. I didn't do horribly.

•

I'm coming out of the toilet when someone shouts my name.

     I snap my head toward the end of the hall, where Frankie is. He walks toward me and presses his lips against mine, backing me up against the wall. I hardly kiss him back, worried how he'll react if I don't at all.

     "See?" He says into my mouth. "You didn't need those pills and you still managed to do it."

     I furrow my eyebrows. "What?"

     "You danced pretty good without your silly anxiety pills, or whatever." He says, wrapping an arm around my waist.

     "Because I was fine beforehand." I say. "And I took one earlier."

     His face changes, and suddenly he looks angry.

     "I have to go back to the dressing rooms." I say quietly.

"You're not going anywhere." He says, leaning back. He brings his hand up, and I barely even have the time to flinch before he smacks me across the face.

"Please—" He covers my mouth with his hand as he comes scarily close to me. He narrows his eyes into a glare.

"I'm sick of all your shit. I drive like three hours to come see you twirl around on a stage and you're being rude? As though you have the fucking right to be? I didn't have to come at all, Amalia. But I did. Because I care about you. And this is how you treat me back?"

I try to talk against his hand, but he presses down until my entire face hurts, stuffing my head into the wall. When he lets go, it's a relief. But then he pulls on my curled hair, making me bend my neck backwards. I grunt. "Say sorry." He whispers.

     "I—I'm sorry." I choke out, my eyes watering. "Please stop, F-Frankie."

     He does, only to shove me to the floor. My head hits the wall and I groan, stars erupting in my vision. A few tears slip down my cheeks, but when I notice him walking toward me again I scramble to stand, coughing.

     "I don't want to hurt you, Amalia. But you just keep making me." He grinds out. He pushes me backward, and I stumble.

     Then I run.

     I spin on my heel—still in these god-forsaken pointe shoes. I can't run in these, Archer!—and bolt, my legs pumping as I spirit toward the door that leads to the staircase downwards, where my family will be.

     I push it open, glancing back to see Frankie chasing after me. "Don't fucking run from me, Amalia!" He yells.

     My tears flow freely as I rush down the stairs, my pointe shoes delaying me. By the time I'm at the bottom of one set of stairs, he's halfway down them and then suddenly right in front of me, grabbing me by my neck.

     "Where were you planning to go, hm?" He questions, his voice soft as he shoves me against the railing, his hands tightening around my neck until I can't breathe. I try to drag his hands away, but he takes one away and punches me square across the face, then removes the other from my neck.

     Only to position them both on my shoulders and push me down the stairs.

     A scream escapes me as I topple down, my back and my arms and my legs hitting the steep steps as I tumble to the bottom. When it's finally over, it's strangely hard to keep my eyes open.

     And when Darkness extends a hand, I take it.

• ARCHER •

I walk into the seating part of the theatre, finding my mother before sitting down. She smiles at me as people walk out onto the stage, sitting down.

When I see Edie and Ollie, my eyes immediately search for Amalia. But I notice that as the rest of the people from that studio walk out—including Ally, who waves at us before jumping around like a little maniac—not one of them is Amalia.

I look around the seats. Jess was lying, clearly, since my father isn't here. Or if he is, he hasn't came to see me. Thankfully. He hasn't tried to reach out ever since I took my car back and brought Ally to live with our mother; I'm not complaining.

I pull my phone from my pocket and click on Amalia's name.

ME: Where are you? Your awards about to start. Don't you wanna get your first place trophy?

ME: Amalia?

ME: Are you okay?

The doors at the back open, and I turn around to see two of Amalia's older brothers—Cole and Elijah, I'm pretty sure—leave.

     My eyebrows furrow in concern.

     Where is she?