Free Dancing in Red Shoes Will Kill You by Dorian Cirrone

pencil. “Wait a minute. You mean they’re her shoes? She painted them, put them up there with a death threat, and now she’s trying to pin it on you?”
    Joey shook his head. “That is so wrong. Did anyone else see the initials?”
    â€œNo,” I said. “That’s the problem. And now who knows where the shoes are.”
    Paterson pulled the cover down on her sketch pad and packed up her pencils. “I don’t think people wouldbelieve you’d do a thing like that.”
    Joey jumped down from the art table. “And if they do, you can always teach ballet to your fellow inmates at the women’s detention center.”
    I hit him with my backpack as we walked out.
    Â 
    That night when I pulled my dirty leotard and tights out of my dance bag, I found the card Miss Alicia had given me crumpled up and stuck inside my pointe shoe. I smoothed it out and looked at it. DR . ANDERSEN MARLOWE , PLASTIC SURGEON .
    Marlowe, I thought, like Marlo Thomas. I remembered reading in one of Paterson’s books about the controversy the actress caused in the old show That Girl when she didn’t wear a bra and her boobs bounced all over the television screen. What the hell was everybody’s thing with breasts?
    I put the card on my dresser next to my hairspray. I knew what Paterson would say about Dr. Marlowe.
    I stuffed clean dance clothes into the bag and thought about how much had happened that day. My head was swirling with thoughts of death threats and plastic surgeons. Whatever happened to sugarplums and fairies?
    I’d almost forgotten about Gray Foster. If anything could take my mind off my problems, it was him. As Icrawled into bed, I thought about what Joey had said. Gray had to be interested in me—why else would he care if I had a boyfriend? I closed my eyes and tried to picture Gray’s face. But those stupid red pointe shoes kept floating in front of it.

Chapter 7
    â€œW ake up. Wake up,” a voice commanded. I opened my eyes to find Paterson standing next to my bed with a book and a videotape in one hand and a bowl of popcorn in the other.
    I squinted at her. “What are you doing, waking me up so early on Saturday?”
    â€œIt’s almost noon,” she said. “I’ve already been to the library and back.”
    I rubbed my eyes and sat up. “What for?”
    She held up the book and tape. “Clues,” she said.
    â€œClues? Who are you, Nancy Drew?” I hadn’t intended the pun, but when I realized what I’d said, I laughed and added, “Get it? Drew. You’re an artist?”
    Paterson ignored me. “I thought you’d be a little more concerned about psycho ballerina and her killer pointe shoes.” She pulled the covers off me. “C’mon, we’ve got work to do.”
    I didn’t think Paterson had taken me seriously when I’d told her about Melissa’s initials being on the shoes. It had been almost a week since the whole red shoes fiasco. And, more importantly, three days since I’d last run into Gray before rehearsal. We didn’t have any classes together, so there was no chance of seeing him during school. I’d fantasized about running into him somehow over the weekend, but I had no idea where he lived or hung out.
    Instead, I was going to spend my Saturday playing detective with Paterson. I made my way to the bathroom, getting a whiff of popcorn and turning up my nose as I passed her.
    â€œI just popped it in the microwave,” Paterson said, following me to the bathroom. “It’s low fat. You’ll be glad we have it during the movie.”
    â€œWhat is this movie, anyway?”
    Paterson held up the box.
    I brought it close to my eyes. “ The Red Shoes— I’ve heard of that somewhere.”
    â€œIt’s a classic,” Paterson said, “from nineteen forty-eight.”
    After I put my contact lenses in, I got a better look at the