Angel Falls (Angel Falls Series, #1), Babette Jongh [books for 6 year olds to read themselves .TXT] 📗

The whole time, my mind churned right along with my stomach. I had faced-up to the reality that my hopes and dreams were burned to ash, and there would be no phoenix rising. I had come to terms with the possibility that I’d end up just like Ms. Daphne, the town’s last ballet teacher, a lifelong spinster who’d never quite managed to fit into the small town landscape. I had swallowed my jealousy, pretending it didn’t bother me to see Ben and Melody together, living the fairytale life I’d given up to be a ballerina. I had restored Melody to best-friend status in all but the deepest depths of my wounded heart, hoping that time would turn that tiny white lie into truth.

Couldn’t the universe cut me some slack? Give me a break? Toss me a bone? Couldn’t Ian Buchanan turn out to be the Prince Charming I imagined him to be?

Lights from the newspaper office illuminated the sidewalk at the foot of the stairs. Ian Bloody Buchanan—who’d better not continue to be an asshole—was probably down there brooding over the noise level of a ballet studio and wondering how to get me to break my lease.

Thank God Mr. Shaw owned the building. His family had known mine for generations, and ties like that matter in a small town. He wouldn’t kick me out, even if I got crossways with his new editor.

Back in the studio, I popped the Nutcracker Suite CD into the player and selected the Turkish number. Immersed in the slow, sultry strains, I danced, releasing Ian Buchanan’s irritation, my ruined career, and the fact that I might never find the kind of love Ben and Melody shared. The kind Ben and I had known, before he threw it away.

The last notes eased into silence. The abrupt sound of applause erupted. My heart fluttered like a startled bird, its wings beating against my ribs. He stood in the doorway, as if my thoughts had conjured him. “Ben...”

CHAPTER TWO

“I’m sorry I scared you.” Ben came closer, his footsteps loud in the quiet studio.

“Surprised,” I said. “Not scared.” He and I seemed to avoid each other by unspoken consent. Melody must have sent him. Sure of herself, sure of him, sure of me.

She might not be so sure, if she knew how hard it was for me to look into Ben’s blue eyes and hide the longing that had imprisoned me in heavy chains for the last twelve years.

His face looked the same as always. Kind eyes, perfect nose, sweet smile, the front tooth that overlapped its twin just slightly. His expression, the polite disinterest of a stranger, gave those chains a sharp, cruel twist. Afraid to look into his eyes, because that would let him look into mine, I focused on the slight cleft in his chin.

He stepped close enough for me to tell that he’d washed his hair with Amy’s strawberry baby shampoo. He held out a folded piece of paper. “September tuition for Amy and Maryann. Melody said she’s been meaning to give it to you since orientation but keeps forgetting.”

I reached for the check, careful not to touch his hand. For the space of a breath, we stood connected by the slip of paper. Then he let go, and his hand dropped to his side. I folded the check again and closed my fingers around it. “Thanks.”

Lizzie, the traitor, padded up to sit beside Ben.

He reached down to stroke her head. “I haven’t seen you dance in a while. It was nice.”

“I’m glad you... um... liked it.” Was he remembering that time in New York? The time I danced for him, right before he came back home to Angel Falls never to return? If we were both remembering that time, we needed to put some space between us, and fast. “I need to finish...” I had no idea what I needed to finish.

“Okay. Well.” Ben swallowed. The smooth muscles of his neck flexed. He shifted his weight a couple of times, acting like he wanted to run but couldn’t remember how.

I made myself look down, and realized I had folded Melody’s check into a thick square about the width of a quarter. Feeling exposed, I glanced up at him and caught a flicker of emotion in his eyes I wished I hadn’t seen.

He angled his body toward the exit. “I’ll see you later.”

His tennis shoes squeaked on the wood floor, and I watched him walk away. I took a shaky breath and sat to untie the knotted ribbons of the stiff pointe shoes I had just begun breaking in. I took the shoes off and peeled my tights back, easing my blistered, bleeding toes through the hole that converted tights to leggings.

While I bandaged my toes and slipped on a soft pair of socks, Lizzie leaned against me, reminding me that I had plenty to be thankful for. I shoved Ben out of my head and tried to think of sunny beaches and soft kittens and the precious, bitter smell of puppy breath. But my thoughts swung wide instead, latching onto Ian Buchanan and his pissy phone call. Was he going to be a jerk about the noise again tomorrow? And the next day? And every blessed day of ballet classes for the rest of the year?

I folded in the heels of my pointe shoes and wound the ribbons around them, tucking the ends under to keep them in place. “Come on, Lizzie.” I put my Keds on and followed Lizzie down the narrow stairs. Even before I turned the corner onto the shadowed sidewalk, I knew the newspaper office lights were out.

Good. He was gone.

But as I reached the darkened windows, a light clicked on behind the slatted blinds.

“Jeez!” I leaped sideways, tripped over Lizzie and nearly fell, saved only by a quick-footed two-step from curb to asphalt. A twinge in my left ankle reminded me to be more careful. Thank God I hadn’t