and I wasn’t going to ignore that. But I knew whatever her understanding of my condition was, it was not on the same level of mine.
People knew all about me. But they didn’t really know me at all. Things got bad fast and it only got worse when the media began picking me apart like they had the right to. It stopped being about the talent everybody said I had and about how I’d gotten there, as if my father had paid off people to let me participate in recitals, awards, and gain the recognition I deserved. Nobody saw the way I worked every single day, multiple times a day, or how much sleep I lost trying to perfect one single move at a time. They couldn’t see how little I put on my plate because I knew I couldn’t afford to gain weight or else I’d hear about how bloated I was, or how full I’d gotten, or how I wasn’t doing something right because I’d lost control.
So, no, she didn’t understand what it was like even if she tried to. I didn’t think she was pretending because Tiffany was a lot of things, but fake wasn’t one of them. She said how it was, even if it hurt. She’d been blunt her whole life, some would say a fault of hers, but I admired it even if I was on the receiving end. And I was. Often.
While most of that had been to my face, I knew what she said behind my back to the small group of friends she had. Some dancers, most not. It was hard to keep friends who you competed against because no matter how strong you thought your friendship was, you were going to go head to head with them at some point. Some people, like Lauren, were sore losers. Others like Tiffany said a few harsh words and moved on. Trained harder. Ate better. Worked at it until there was no reason to be beaten.
I could picture us being friends if we didn’t have dance between us. But even now, without me competing, I knew it wouldn’t happen. I’d be the threat that always taunted her, the person she’d made comments about when she thought I wasn’t listening.
Sighing, I managed a nod. “I get what you’re saying, but I can’t picture myself ever going back. Competing or not. Plus, I hear Lauren has gotten better. Maybe she’s competition after all.” I hated to think that some girls were so unworthy of not being deemed competition, but there were always people who were better or worse. That was life. Did I flaunt it? Comment on it? No. That wasn’t my place.
Tiffany hefted a sigh before looking toward the door where more people exited. “For the record, I think you’re making a huge mistake. But I’m not shocked to hear your choice. I knew Sophie was full of it when she told the ladies at the club.”
I closed my eyes for a split second. Of course, she was still running her mouth about it like gossip could change my mind. “When did she do that?”
“A week ago? A week and a half?”
I wet my bottom lip and looked at her again, tipping my head. “Thanks for letting me know. And I’m…sorry if you’re disappointed. I just can’t do that to myself.”
“Ladies,” the instructor said from where she was putting her bag over her shoulder. “We need to clear out now. You can continue your conversation outside.”
Tiffany and I walked side by side toward the door, her shoulder bumping into mine as we entered the hallway. “What if I helped you? You don’t want to come back, fine. But that doesn’t mean you should stop dancing. Not unless you never liked it, and let’s be real, there’s no way you would have stuck it out if you hated it. We all saw the way you moved, Adele. It was flawless. We were all sure nobody would ever be able to compare.”
That was the thing nobody got. Being so high on the pedestal meant the fall would hurt that much more. “I didn’t hate it,” I confirmed, adjusting my mat perched in the crook of my armpit. “It was something I started because of my mom and what I found passion in for a long time. But that turned into critique and then into something darker. I don’t know how you could help with something like that, Tiffany.”