“Yes, Harrington,” he said snidely, using my last name like he always did. “Who else?”
“I was invited. That’s the only reason I was there.”
It was like a tennis match: when I answered, everyone looked back over at him.
“Likely story,” he huffed out, and his tone could not have been any more condescending. “I know what you’re really after.”
“Cel won’t peddle his ass for a role,” Marc said loudly, chiming in. “That’s ayouthing, Senan.”
“I’m sorry, who the fuck asked you, Sanchez?”
“Why are you like this?” Zoey suddenly exploded, and we all turned and looked at her. “If I were you, I would––”
“But you’re not me, you stupid little cunt.”
I felt his contempt, his words, in my chest, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. How dare he speak to her—or anyone—like that. “The hell did you just say?” I roared, charging across the room toward him.
“Fuck you, Harrington,” he growled, turning from the barre to face me. “You prance around here thinking you’re––”
“Apologize!” I demanded when I reached him. “How dare you say––”
“Fuck you,” he said again, laughing in my face before shoving me back hard. “I’m going to kick the shit out of––”
“In your dreams, you useless piece of––”
Glass shattered, and something hot hit my face.
“Cel!” Brian screamed, sounding terrified.
I turned to check on him, saw his hand clamped over his mouth, and looked back at Senan, thinking he was about to take a swing at me, which had Brian freaking out.
But when I met his gaze, there was only one eye, his right one, the only one he still had, and his mouth opened like he was gulping air before he sank to the floor in front of me.
Someone was screaming.
I just stood there, looking down at my white T-shirt, now spattered crimson, and black tights and black dance shoes. He’d fallen at my feet, and I was standing in his blood.
I had no idea what to do.
“Cel, get out of there!” Luna shrieked.
Turning around, I saw everyone racing toward the door. Luna was gesturing for me, but no one was coming in to get me. I was now the only one in the room.
I tried to move, but I realized I was frozen. I couldn’t take even a step. It took Nura suddenly appearing at the door, barking an order at me to come to her, years of her telling me what to do, that finally got me moving. It was all instinct to follow her instructions. When I was close enough, she yanked me out of the room.
My hearing was goingin and out, and I was cold one second and hot the next. It was the oddest thing. I wanted to talk to Eli. I was sure he could make sense of what was going on. He’d know. But every time I tried to speak, nothing came out.
I was vaguely aware that my brain wasn’t working the way it usually did. I didn’t, as a rule, crave comfort. At the moment, though, I wanted Eli there with me. He’d tell me everything would be all right. I wasn’t sure how it could ever be, but still, I needed the words.
I tried to call him, but I was shaking and my vision was blurred. Added to that was the fact that every time I tried to use my phone, someone interrupted me. I didn’t normally have people on me, in my face, badgering me, but today was different.
They wanted a statement. I was sitting on the floor in the hall with my back against the wall, away from the practice studio, and more importantly, away from all the windows. Away from the barre where he’d stood, from the mirror. They wanted me to provide answers: Had I seen anything at all? Was there anything I could recall?
“What would he have seen?” Nura asked the detectives hovering near me. She herself was on her knees beside me, her hand like a bird, fluttering to my shoulder, then off, then back. “That bullet came through a window on the fourth floor. What the fuck do you think he could have noticed?”
She never swore. She never raised her voice. She was usually composed, the epitome of professionalism. But not today. Today she was as breakable as the rest of us. I had no idea her tone could be so sharp as to cut like a razor.
I noticed, when she turned her head, the way the light hit her glossy black hair, like a halo sitting flat on the back of her head. Her eyes were focused on the detectives, and the older one, Detective Oakes, couldn’t hold her gaze. The younger man, Detective Brewster, who was talking to her, could and did. He squatted down beside me a moment later.