Dancing for the Lord The Academy - By Emily Goodman Page 0,44

have put him in a position like that in the first place. More than that, though, she wasn’t going to be Katarina. She would take care of her partner, and make sure that nothing happened that might put him in a potentially compromising position.

Thank you, Lord, she prayed again as she hurried home. Thank you for letting me have Nicholas as a partner—and Lord, help me to be the kind of partner that he deserves.

In his room, Nicholas was praying a similar prayer. He had really enjoyed getting to know Danni that day. She had a deep faith that showed in every word she spoke, especially as she struggled not to speak ill of Katarina; a deep kindness that had been impossible to miss, as much as she had gone out of her way to take care of him; and a general belief in the ultimate goodness of people that he feared would be knocked out of her in a few years, if she stayed at the Academy.

Lord, thank you for sending her to me, he prayed silently. I think she might be the partner I need while I get my shoulder back together once and for all. She won’t push me the way Kat did, I think—but she’ll stand alongside me, at least if we get to keep each other. Lord, that’s worth more than words can describe.

I know I may not get to keep her. I may not be given a choice about going back to Kat; and the way she talks about her Michael, I think Danni is waiting for him to join her. But just…Lord, if nothing else, I think I would like to have this girl as a friend.

Danni was exhausted as she slipped into bed that night—exhausted, and yet exhilarated all the same. She had been given so much; and she was determined to appreciate it—and to dance, as she always did, for her God. Whatever else happened out there, she wanted to be sure that he got the glory that he deserved.

As she snuggled into her pillows, Danni briefly realized that she hadn’t called Michael; but before she could lift her hand and reach for the phone, the thought was gone again. She would call him…later. Maybe tomorrow….

Chapter Eight

Overnight, Danni’s schedule had turned from manageable to all but impossible. Suddenly, she was dancing every available moment of every day; and if she slowed down long enough to even take a breath, she was left with the uncomfortable feeling that she was wasting valuable practice time.

Two weeks. She had two weeks. That was the thought that kept pounding through her head. It might well even have kept her up at night; except that she was so exhausted by the end of the night that she fell into bed and fell asleep before her head even touched the pillow.

On Wednesday, she missed two calls from Michael. On Thursday, she tried once to call him back—at a time when she knew he would be in the middle of dance class. It was silly to be disappointed when he didn’t call her back after class, especially since even if he had, she wouldn’t have been able to answer him.

She did manage to get in touch with her parents to let them know the news—but she warned them not to say anything to Michael yet. One way or the other, she was going to be the one to tell him—and if that meant that he didn’t find out until the night of the first performance, then so be it.

It seemed like she and Nicholas were spending every moment in one another’s company, too. Suddenly, their morning practice sessions were combined every other day of the week; and their afternoon sessions were always combined.

He had been right. It was intensely difficult learning how to do the complicated series of lifts when he could only do them with her twice in a day—three times, if one of them was in the afternoon. Most of the dance had been perfected by Friday afternoon. A few of the trickier movements, however, still had Danni frustrated.

“I’m sorry, Danni.” Nicholas had his left hand braced hard against his right shoulder, as though that gesture might somehow still the pain he was in. She knew he was hurting, and that he blamed himself for her inability to master the move.

“It’s not your fault.” Her voice sounded dead, she realized in a detached sort of way. There was so little emotion in the words it would