finish our sophomore year at the Academy of Ballet in NYC. This summer, we made the transition to juniors, and the pressure would be on us to make a name for ourselves. Getting an offer from a professional company by the end of senior year was essential if we want to keep dancing for years to come.
My nerves were also on edge for another reason. Last week my ‘mother’ had contacted the Logans. I had refused to speak with her, of course. She hadn’t shown any interest in me over the last sixteen years, why start now?
It had been over two months since I lost Babulya, and there was still an empty hole in my heart. I knew Babulya wouldn’t have wanted me to give up - she would have demanded that I go out and live the best life I could. I tried my best to stuff my emotions deep down, but it only worked when I let dance consume me completely. I was dancing better than I ever had before, but I knew what I was doing wasn’t healthy.
My dance game might have been on point, but my personal life was a mess. The Logans had taken me into their home, but Ryan had spent so much of his childhood with me and Babulya because the Logans were rarely around. That hadn’t changed.
Losing my babushka, my home, and what felt like my life, had been overwhelming. Ryan had been the only thing holding me together since I’d found her collapsed on her bedroom floor. I had been lost in a sea of grief for weeks when he sat me down to have a serious talk.
Ryan grabbed both my hands. “Katya, you can’t keep doing this.” He swallowed, and I could see the worry in his eyes.
“You aren’t eating, the bags under your eyes tell me that you aren’t sleeping, and you walk around like a zombie.”
I just stared at him blankly, even though I could see the frustration on his face. I felt numb, paralyzed in the face of everything that happened. I didn’t even have the strength to fake being normal anymore. Not even for Ryan.
“I need you, KitKat,” he pleaded with me. “I don’t know where you went, but I need you to come back.”
He didn’t get through to me at all until I saw resignation, and then surrender, on his face. At the thought of Ryan giving up on me, at the fear of him leaving me, something had broken inside. Another flood of pain and grief had come out.
Now, I poured all of that pain into dance. I went harder and longer than I should, despite the risk of injury. I knew I couldn’t keep doing this, and I knew I was risking my entire future. I was aware I was being stupid. And yet I couldn’t stop. The only time I felt peace was when I was too exhausted and sore to feel anything else. I poured everything into dance, and then at night, I had nothing left in me. I was empty and numb.
Ryan thought I was doing better because of how dedicated and determined I was to perfect our performances. He saw me getting out of bed every morning and going about our usual activities. He didn’t know that it was almost impossible to force myself to eat, and that the food tasted like ashes. He didn’t know that the smiles I gave him were just a part of the old Katya persona that I pulled on like a Halloween mask. I went through the motions, but I couldn’t feel. I was numb to everything unless I was dancing.
Brett stopped next to us on his way off the stage, and Ryan and I paused in our movements. “Hey, just wanted to wish you guys luck,” he said with a grin in Ryan’s direction.
I tried to pretend that I was the old, playful Katya. “Thanks, Brett,” I answered for Ryan as his cheeks turned pink. Ryan nodded along with me and gave Brett an awkward wave as he walked past us.
“Stay with me,” I whispered to Ryan, stretching a grin over my face that I hoped seemed genuine. “I need you focused, not thinking about Brett’s cute butt.” Brett was a tall, handsome dancer who was about to become a senior, and he was one of the best male dancers in our school. There was no doubt in my mind that he would get an offer to join a company before his