Free Attitude by Robin Stevenson Page A

time making friends with the other girls or feeling homesick…well, I hope you’d tell me.”
    I don’t say anything, because what else can I say? I can’t make her believe me.
    She sighs. “Well, I can’t make you talk about it.”
    The lump in my throat is so huge, I don’t think I could say anything even if I wanted to.
    â€œI don’t want you using the computer this weekend,” Mrs. Harrison says. “Obviously it’s a privilege you can’t be trusted with.”
    I swallow. That means no email, no Skype, no contact with my friends or my parents.
    â€œMelissa will be here soon,” she says. “I hope you’ll apologize to her and Edie.” She sighs again. “You can’t take back what you have said, but you need to figure out how you are going to repair the damage you have done. It’s up to you to make things right with them.”
    I clench my hands into tight fists, nails digging into my palms. “I’ll talk to them,” I say. The words come out hard as pellets and leave a bitter taste in my mouth.
    â€œGood,” Mrs. Harrison says. She turns to leave but not without a parting shot. “If it were up to me, you would lose the privilege of auditioning next week,” she says. “Edie started to cry when I told her that, just so you know. She doesn’t want that to happen. Personally, I think she is being far more generous than you deserve.”
    The unfairness of it all is feeding the growing fury inside me, and I’m scared of what might come out if I try to answer.
    She takes my silence for stubbornness, or perhaps heartless indifference, and makes a little noise of disgust before walking away and closing my bedroom door much harder than necessary.
    I sit motionless on the bed for a long time, just breathing deeply and trying to calm myself. I feel like screaming, or crying, but there’s no point.
    I need a plan.
    I need to stand up to Melissa and Edie somehow. I can’t let them win.
    I get off the bed and look at myself in the full-length mirror. First position. Second. Third. Chin up, back straight, shoulders down and back, turn out from the hip…Despite everything, I danced better today than I ever have. I know I did. And I can see the dancer in the mirror, looking back at me with determination in every line of her body.
    Courage. Passion. Dedication. This is how I will beat Melissa and Edie. I will apologize if I must, lying through my teeth, and I will not let them see that it hurts. And I will go back to the school on Monday and convince Diana to let me audition.
    I will dance my heart out.
    I will get the part of Clara, and that will be my revenge.
    * * *
    When Melissa arrives, I go downstairs and join her and Edie in the living room.
    She looks at me, eyebrows lifted, mouth curled into a smirk. Edie looks down and tugs at a loose thread in the cuff of her hoodie.
    I take a deep breath. “That comment on Facebook was awful,” I say. “It was a mean thing to write. And it was a lie, anyway.” I meet Melissa’s eyes and hope she knows exactly what I am really saying: You’re mean. You’re a liar.
    â€œI just figured you were jealous,” she says. “Because, you know, Edie and I probably have a better chance than you do of being Clara.”
    I force a smile. “Probably,” I say. “I guess we’ll all have to wait and see.”
    Mrs. Harrison is standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, listening and nodding approvingly at our civilized behavior. If only she knew…
    â€œWell, may the best dancer win,” Melissa says.
    * * *
    I get through the weekend somehow. Mrs. Harrison is cool toward me, but Mr. Harrison seems to think the whole thing is rather funny. “Girls and their drama,” he says. I bet he wouldn’t be laughing if he knew the truth.
    When I’m alone with Edie on Saturday, I ask her directly if