Silhouette by Thalia Kalkipsakis Page A

what he did, but I don’t even blame him. Mum never understood his dancing – but Natasha did. That’s why Mum can’t handle the idea of me being at the NBC. Not because Dad used to dance there, but because Natasha still does.
    ‘That’s tough,’ Paige says softly. She shifts on the step, sitting taller. ‘Hey … look, Scarlett. That was a long time ago.’ She shakes her head. ‘But you have everything now. The lead in our grad performance, an awesome music video. If anyone’s going to make it, you are. You realise that, don’t you?’ Her arm is against mine. ‘Don’t you?’
    ‘Yes, but –’
    ‘So try not to let all this stuff get to you. It’s all in the past. It doesn’t change anything, really.’
    ‘I’m not sure how to explain, but it’s not just the past for me –’
    Paige twists her torso as she sits, stretching her back. ‘I mean … the rest of your life’s pretty much as close to perfect as anyone’s, so don’t let this get you down.’
    Has she been listening to anything I just said? I clench my jaw and stand up. ‘All right. Thanks.’ Thanks for nothing.
    Paige stands too. ‘So you’re okay?’
    ‘Yeah.’
    I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Not with Paige. The way she’s reacted is so different from Moss. Your father knew how to live …
    In silence we walk through the main doors and into the caf. There’s clear space between our shoulders as we walk, but I’m not sure if it’s because I want the distance, or because Paige does.
    By the end of the week I’m like a light that’s been on too long: fizzing and hot. I’m tired of people coming up to ask about the music video and I’m exhausted from rehearsing.
    When I get home, Mum’s in with a student. Fine with me. She can do her thing and I’ll do mine.
    Upstairs I dump my stuff and flop back against my pillow. It’s the first time all week that I’ve let myself stop. I find my headphones and let music take over, push everything else away. Eyes on the ceiling. Ramp the volume higher.
    Forty minutes go by and I’m still listening to music. I sit up and sigh. I should get through some homework before rehearsal tomorrow. I’m winding up my headphones when my mobile lights up. Unknown number.
    I press answer. ‘Hello?’
    ‘Hey, it’s me.’
    Moss. My heart does a triple twist. ‘How did you get my number?’
    ‘Babe, I can get anything I want.’
    That makes me laugh. ‘Yeah, I don’t doubt that.’
    ‘So I’m having a few people round, just a quiet night. Do you want to check it out?’
    ‘Sure,’ I say slowly. Rehearsal for the graduation performance is tomorrow morning at eight. I wish I’d made it through some homework. ‘What time?’
    ‘Well,’ he laughs. It sounds so smooth. ‘Whenever you want, babe. We’ve started already.’
    ‘Okay, thanks,’ I sign off. ‘See you soon.’
    I’ve barely hung up when questions start through my mind. What should I wear? Who else will be there? What’s his address again?
    First things first. I’d better eat something this time.
    Mum’s saying bye to her student at the door. In my hurry, all I find in the cupboard is a can of lentils. Pure protein. I’ve opened it already when I notice something in the oven, a casserole of some sort. Oh well, she’ll be eating it on her own.
    I hear the click and creak of the front door, so I grab a fork and carry the can upstairs. I’d rather eat it cold than have to face her. Grimacing at the first mouthful of mush, I leave the lentils on my desk while I throw stuff in a bag. Leotard, tights, three pairs of shoes for rehearsal.
    For all I know, I’ll be back home in a couple of hours but no matter what happens tonight, I have to be ready for tomorrow.
    Quickly I shower and pull on skinny jeans, heels and a low-cut top. I take time with my make-up, using more than I would normally, and even more time with my hair, drying it all windswept and teasing it slightly until it’s just right.
    Once I’ve finished, I