Chapter 2

The interrogation was a blur of legal jargon and my mother' s crocodile tears. Since I was a minor and it was a first offense, they didn't lock me up. Instead, I was released into my mother' s custody, expelled from the regional ballet program, and ordered into mandatory counseling. The public shaming was instant. My picture was all over local news sites. "Ballerina Thief Steals from Sick Girl."

The aftermath was a slow, grinding descent into hell. The dance world, once my entire universe, shut its doors. The girls I used to practice with crossed the street to avoid me. The whispers followed me everywhere.

At home, my mother was relentless.

"I can't believe you," she'd say, her voice dripping with disappointment. "After everything I've sacrificed for you. All that money on lessons, on pointe shoes. Wasted. You've shamed me. You've shamed this family."

She never mentioned the stolen money again. She didn't have to. It was the perfect, final act of sabotage.

This wasn't her first time.

My first major audition was for Juilliard. I was sixteen and at the peak of my abilities. I had practiced the variation from Giselle until my muscles screamed and my feet were raw. The night before we flew to New York, my mother insisted on "preparing" my pointe shoes.

"A little trick from my Vegas days, honey," she said with a wink. "It'll give you the perfect grip on that slick stage."

She coated the soles with a clear, odorless substance from a small, unmarked bottle. I trusted her.

The next day, on the Juilliard stage, under the blinding lights, I took my first step into the choreography. It was like stepping onto black ice. My feet shot out from under me. I crashed to the floor, my ankle twisting with a sickening pop. The music stopped. The judges stared, their faces a mixture of pity and annoyance. My dream shattered in a single, silent, excruciating moment.

Debra rushed to my side, all frantic concern. "Oh, my baby! Are you okay? It must have been the floor! That notoriously slippery Juilliard floor!"

The doctors said it was a severe sprain and multiple torn ligaments. No dancing for at least six months. The Juilliard dream was dead.