Toe to Toe (On Pointe Book 1) by Penelope Freed (comprehension books txt) 📗

background as we sit on the bed, absorbing Ms. Parker’s words without speaking. I eye the other girls and Ms. Parker, guilt and thankfulness warring inside my chest. When I think an appropriately respectful amount of time has passed I grin before speaking up. “I told you he looked like an asshole.” This sets us all laughing, Lisa throws a pillow at my head and I slide off the bed, onto the floor where I stay, giggling too hard to climb back onto the bed.

We watch one more episode before Ms. Parker makes us go back to our rooms to get some sleep. Hannah looks happier than before which is a relief since I have to share a bed with her. She’s a restless sleeper when she’s upset.

I follow Hannah back down the hall to our room, pulling my phone out of my back pocket, swiping on notifications. I need a little relief from the heaviness of Ms. Parker’s speech. My phone is guaranteed to deliver some smart-ass content and a break from all the seriousness.

Megan: Ditch those bitches babe and get your ass to the beach

Madison: Too cold for the beach

Madison: It’s so boring without you here. Why’d you ditch us?

There’s a text from Allyson separate from the group chat. I have to smirk at her cattiness. Reading it makes me glad I have Tyler and don’t have to worry about getting on her bad side anymore. She has an annoying tendency to claim a new boy every week and god forbid one of us comes between her and her pick of the week.

Allyson: At the Quinn’s, the boys are playing Madden. Megan is trying to get Jack to notice her. Or is it Hunter? I can’t tell from here. Doesn’t matter. Could be either. Or both.

Allyson: Would telling her that her boobs are about to fall out of her top be being a good or bad friend?

That girl is ridiculous. Entertaining as hell, but ridiculous.

There’s a message from Tyler checking on me. I pause in the hallway to take a quick selfie and send it to him before hurrying to catch up with Hannah.

“I think my mom’s asleep already. Do you need the bathroom?” She pauses in the doorway, looking back at me before tiptoeing inside.

“Nope, I’m good. Just catching up,” I wiggle my phone in her face before tossing it on the bed.

“I don’t know how you keep up with everything. It would drive me crazy to have my phone blowing up all the time like yours.” Our whispered voices remind me of countless sleepovers from our childhood. Everything about spending time with Hannah makes me miss how easy life was back then, but at the same time so frustrated that she expects me to still be the same silly girl I was then. I’m not and I don’t want to be.

Anything I say is going to sound stuck up, so I keep my mouth shut and shrug. Hannah’s phone hasn’t buzzed once all night, everyone who would be sending her texts has been with her all weekend. I don’t understand how she isn’t bored to death, but what do I know? It took so much effort tonight to get her in a better mood, I don’t want to be an asshole and ruin it now.

She’s quiet as we get ready for bed, eyeing me when I pause to respond to a text or notification on my phone every few minutes. Fortunately, she goes to sleep pretty quickly, putting her back to me as I scroll through my apps, earbuds in so I don’t disturb the princess’s sleep.

Just before I go to sleep, an email arrives from the event organizers apologizing and letting us know that Jean-Paul Phillipe has been replaced for the weekend. I smirk. Ms. Parker wasn’t kidding when she said she knew people.

Chapter 12 Hannah

The stage is clearing and our thirty minutes of time to go on stage to feel it out and practice a few steps as the judges rest between sections is almost over. Open Stage is a crowded, competitive free-for-all. Girls practicing fouettés are kicking people right and left, guys are jumping and practicing landing that double tour en l’air or that double cabriole, just missing each other as they land. Since this is the contemporary division, it’s even more dangerous—people rolling on the floor while others practice leaping and landing with a complicated turn or a huge extension. I hate this part, I hate the side-ways glances, the crossed arms and stares if you try to practice a difficult step, like everyone assumes you’re showing off.

Now that there’s a little more room, I quickly practice a sequence from my solo that finishes with a series of traveling leaps and rolls, praying I don’t run into anyone. I couldn’t practice it earlier since there was no space, but making sure I won’t run out of space at the end helps me feel calmer. I’ve been surprisingly calm this afternoon, last year when I was getting ready for my solos I was a nervous wreck, but this year feels different. Maybe it’s because I’m older, or maybe after five years of not winning the top prize again, I just want to do my best without thinking about how I’m going to place. Ms. Parker and I haven’t discussed it once this year, just worked to make my solos the best they can be. It’s been a relief to work just for the sake of working, without trying to win anything.

“Hannah?” Ms. Parker asks from her spot in the wings opposite me. I give Ms. Parker a thumbs up and she nods. I dash back to her side of the stage to give her a hug before she heads out to the audience to watch. “You got this sweetie. Remember what we talked about last night? Take deep breaths and really feel them inside your lungs. Dance big, dance bold, and dance with joy.” I nod my head at her mantra, feeling