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senior year. He was supposed to talk through his options with Trenton today. He
was supposed to put things right.
My brother, who cared for my bruises when Dad couldn’t contain his grief.
Who helped me dance in secret. My fingers wrap around the ballet charm. Even
after everything he’s done, he is my home.
Once, he caught Dad’s belt on his bare arm to stop it from coming down on
me. Afterward, Tyler cracked a joke and tousled my hair. He is the only real
family I have.
It can’t be him.
And today of all days.
I should get up. I should reason with him.
But he holds a gun, and his eyes flash dangerously. Sylv clings to me. We
crouch low. From between the seats, I can see the body of one of our classmates.
Her face is obscured by someone’s book bag, and blood pools on the floor. “We
have to move,” I manage.
Neither Asha nor Sylv reacts at first. After what seems an eternity, Asha nods.
She bends down to pick up her books, then stops and stares. No point in lugging
them around now. They won’t be able to shield her.
A strangled cry swirls up from the lowest rows of the auditorium.
Carefully, I get to my feet. I tug at Sylv’s sleeve. She doesn’t give any
indication of feeling it. As long as the commotion distracts Tyler, I want to take
advantage of it. “Come on. We have to get away from here.”
I glance back toward my brother.
In the aisle adjacent to ours, leading up to Tyler, I recognize a petite girl with
braces and too-large glasses. Geraldine. She’s a freshman. I only know her
because she practices her singing in the music room. Her hands are curled into
fists. She sways back and forth, physically indecisive, then she sprints up the
aisle, toward the door.
She throws herself in a leap—a grand jeté—and I can see myself dance like
her. She moves with delicacy.