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  We find a diner and order cheeseburgers and fries. I could never eat this way in front of my fellow ballerinas, but I’m completely comfortable devouring my food while Yuri bears witness. After I finish, he scoots the rest of his fries towards me. “You eat these.”

  “No, no,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m just stress-eating at this point. I should stop.”

  “What is ‘stress eating’?”

  “You know, when you’ve had a bad day and you just want to stuff your face and forget about it? Don’t boys do that?”

  Yuri draws his eyebrows together and rubs his chin with a single finger, contemplating. “When I have bad day I do things to forget. But not usually eat.”

  He’s clearly a physical creature. Yuri probably dances, or works out, or finds a willing sex partner to relieve his stress. Maybe he does all three at once. I picture Yuri twirling around with a barbell in one hand and a naked girl straddling him in the other, and it’s both funny and sort of hot. I try to shake it off.

  “Do you have bad days very often?” I ask.

  He nods. “Da. I get sad for home. I miss sometimes my family.”

  “So are you planning on going back soon?”

  He swirls a fry in ketchup. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I stay and become big star.”

  “Really? Is that what you want, to be famous, like the next Baryshnikov?”

  “Is time for a new one, yes?” Yuri laughs but his face goes serious. “I wish to work hard and make big progress. I will practice and be success and bring my mother here when I have fame and money.”

  Under the bright lights of the diner Yuri’s face is in clear focus and without guile. “That sounds nice,” I tell him. “You must love your mother a lot.”

  His grey eyes grow dreamy. “Do we not all love our mother?”

  I catch myself thinking something ugly and exhale a pint of guilt.

  “Do you not love your mother?” He asks.

  “No, of course I do. But it’s complicated. She wants me to be what she once was, and I don’t think I can, so then she gets angry and invents some new drama to make me feel bad, usually about my father. Seriously, they’re always flirting and fighting, even though they’re like, late middle age. When he comes home they make up, but that’s the worst, because of the disgusting sounds that come from their bedroom.” I tap my fingers against the Formica table and let myself ramble. “I should be feeling bad for her but I don’t. All I feel is resentment.” I take a breath, and see that Yuri’s head is cocked and his jaw is crooked, again like he’s contemplating. “Sorry, I’m not making much sense, am I?”

  He rises from his chair and extends a hand to me. “We go for walk now. I show you what I do when day is bad.”

  “Why don’t you just tell me instead?”

  He flicks his head back, knocking his bangs out of his eyes. “In Moscow we find tall buildings and we climb. Is fun, to tempt death and win.”

  I imagine him scaling a building like Spiderman, and this seems as natural as if he told me that he likes to skateboard or play video games.

  “I’m sure it is fun to win,” I say airily. “But it’s probably not so fun to lose.”

  I’m aware that I’m flirting, but as long as we don’t touch, it’s okay. I’m not Julie or any of the other girls at Ballet Institute East who have fallen for Yuri. We are just friends. “I’ve never been afraid of heights so that sounds cool.”

  “Then we go.”

  We leave the warmth of the diner and go into the chilly spring night. I don’t tell him that my mom expects me home and I force Julie from my mind. She doesn’t have to know about this.

  “This way,” he commands. We take a subway to the financial district, talking very little, which isn’t as awkward as you would think. He leads me to an un-extraordinary skyscraper.

  It’s not hard to sneak past the security guard and through the locked door that Yuri knows how to open. We climb up steps, along railings, higher and higher, up the side of the building and I think, I could be home, eating egg whites and salad, watching America’s Next Top Model.

  Then we’re up as high as we can go. I look down. The street is a mile below and it might as well be a world away. The difference between life and death is in the balls of my feet.

  “This is your idea of fun?” I ask. The impossibly thin air is rushing through my ears.

  “You feel alive now, yes?” he yells over the wind.

  Sunday morning low-carb brunches, hollow holiday dinners, and false smiles from false friends instant-replay in my mind.

  “I do,” I tell him.

  We break the no touching rule when his warm, strong hands clench mine, and we walk along the narrowest of beams. I could skim an airplane if it happened to fly by. I dare to look down and the city is a swarm of movement and light, safer at this distance than it’s ever been before.

  I forget that my dad is having an affair, that my mom doesn’t accept me, that nothing I do pleases them. It’s just light, air, and adrenaline. It’s just Yuri’s hand holding mine, in a place I never thought I’d be.

  “Is even better than dancing,” he says.

  “Yeah,” I answer.

  One false step could send me to my death, which isn’t unlike any other day. It’s like executing a quadruple pirouette while airborne, like having wings, like defying gravity.

  Yuri takes out his phone and points it at me. “Now smile.”

  Right now, that’s easy to do.

  Chapter 53

  The next morning I wake to the buzzing of my phone. A text from Yuri: When can I see you again?

  I put my phone back on my nightstand and turn off my alarm. It was about to go off anyway. In the shower, I let hot water course over my head and down my back as I try to form coherent thoughts.

  Seeing Yuri again is out of the question.

  Too bad I’m not more experienced. Dancing fulltime and not attending high school doesn’t help me meet guys, not straight ones anyway. It’s kind of embarrassing that I haven’t even had my first kiss yet, unless you count the one from my cousin, Powell. We were at his Bar Mitzvah, he was drunk, and we never spoke of it again.

  The worst part is I can’t talk to Julie. As I rub conditioner into my hair, images of last night come rushing back, and I feel how much I want to be with Yuri. But I know I should go to Julie as if we’re all good, and never mention or think about last night again.

  I get out of the shower, dry off, and get dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Nothing fancy, but I don’t have dance class today until 3:00 and I don’t need to be at The Standout until tomorrow. All I need is some coffee and a protein bar and I’ll be on my way.

  In the kitchen I’m rooting around for the instant coffee and the Nature’s Valley box, when I hear a shuffle and a cough. There’s Mom, looking like death warmed over, like maybe she patted white talc on her face just to enhance the effect.

  But that’s a terrible thing to think.

  “Where were you last night?”

  The lie slips out quick and easy. “I went out with some girls from the show.”

  “Didn’t you get my texts?’

  “Sorry, Mom. But when I got home you were asleep. I checked your forehead and you didn’t seem feverish.” Maybe she won’t notice I didn’t actually answer her question.

  “I’m not well, Zelda.” Her glazed eyes bug out. “And I need you to spend some time with me. I was thinking we could have a spa day. I really need a massage.”

  “Why can’t you go alone?”

  Mom’s mouth goes slack and wounded. “Because nobody should have to be alone when their marriage is falling apart!”

  This is true. She’s right. I’m selfish.

  But I’d rather get an ear infection than a massage with my mother. “I need to go see Julie! She hurt her ankle and I didn’t even realize it and she struggled through modeling yesterday.”

  “But I need you!” Mom wraps her bathrobe tightly across herself as if she’s trying to hide. “I’ll g
et dressed and then we’ll go, and we’ll discuss your involvement in The Standout too. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

  Mom heads down the hall, to her bedroom to get dressed. That’s when I do something unspeakable. I leave before she can hear me go, before she can command me to stay.

  Chapter 54

  I stop and buy Julie a pack of Twizzlers, The National Enquirer, and a bottle of bath soap. There is no problem so big that it can’t be cured by soaking in a bubble bath, eating Twizzlers and reading about the screwed up lives of celebrities. Those magic three items have been our consolation gift to each other for years.

  But Julie barely cracks a smile when I hand her my bag of presents. “Thanks,” she mumbles, and she adjusts her ankle, which is propped up on a pillow.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about your ankle yesterday?”

  “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” she replies.

  “It must have been hard for you, walking in high heels.”

  She smirks. “Not as hard as it was for you.”

  I let her comment roll off me. “I’d feel even worse if Robin had been kicked out. I bet they’re going to fire me today.” I scoot closer to her on the couch. “Seriously, it’s for the best. Now Mom and I won’t have to fight about it. She’s already going to be furious . . .”

  I trail off because Julie’s not listening. She blinks back tears. “Are you okay, Julie? I mean, other than your ankle?”

  She shakes her head. “He hasn’t even called to see how I’m doing. What an asshole, right?”

  Obviously she means Yuri. “Maybe he thinks you blame him and that you need some space.”

  “Maybe I do! But he’s my boyfriend! He ought to call!”

  I should tell her about last night. I should tell her about what Yuri said the other day. I should tell her and I’m an ugly coward for keeping my mouth shut. But Julie will get angry, call me a liar, and accuse me of stealing him away. I love her like a sister but I know how flawed she is. She can be intensely loyal but if you cross her she’ll rip you to shreds.

  “Hey, forget about Yuri. Let’s watch Sound of Music with the volume turned down, and make up dirty song lyrics. Okay?”

  Watching musicals while singing our own, twisted lyrics has been another mainstay in our friendship, but I guess not anymore. “God, Zelda. I’m not twelve, okay? I need more than candy and stupid games to cheer me up.”

  It’s like I’m some fungus growing in her pointe shoe. “We’re the same age, Jules.”

  “Whatever,” she responds.

  My cell phone vibrates. I’m sure it’s Mom, but no. Yuri has texted me again. Please meet me today.

  My decision comes so easily it doesn’t even feel like a choice at all. “I have to go, Julie. It’s Mom. She’s sick and I need to take care of her.”

  “Whatever,” she says again.

  Yuri and I spend the day walking around Brooklyn, exploring parks and eating fresh-baked scones from a bakery, until it’s time to go to class. Julie isn’t there; she must be resting her ankle, so Yuri and I dance, side by side. When class is over he doesn’t walk off to the dressing room, but taps my elbow instead. “I must rehearse now, but we go out tomorrow, yes?”

  Every part of my brain is saying no. “Yes,” I tell him.

  When I get home Mom is waiting for me, all reproachful eyes and grimacing lips. “Did you get a massage?” I ask.

  She says nothing. So I’m getting the silent treatment. Guilt tightens my chest and it hurts to swallow. “Mom, I’m sorry, but I’m doing the show. You can kick me out, but I’m eighteen now and I can do what I want.”

  I just need to figure out what, exactly, that is.

  Chapter 55

  Giselle is a peasant girl who is head over heels for her boyfriend. He’s actually a nobleman disguised as a peasant. He doesn’t reveal his true self to Giselle because she doesn’t trust guys with money. Giselle’s mother warns her that dancing with him will turn her into a “Wili” – a maiden who dies before her wedding night.

  Of course, Giselle doesn’t listen.

  When she finds out that her boyfriend has betrayed her, her mother gets to say “I told you so.” Giselle dies of a broken heart and she joins the ghostly gang of the Wilis, just like her mom said she would.

  Eternal dancing is her fate. She will dance every night, alone, but with a group of other brokenhearted brides. If she ever finds a real partner, she must make him dance until he collapses from exhaustion, and dies.

  You don’t want that, she tells me.

  But I’m tired of being told what I want.

  Chapter 56

  The next day Robin fits me into her latest design. I try to thank her for giving me this unexpected second chance, but my brain is so muddy, it weighs down my tongue. But when she demands that I do a pirouette, my execution is perfect and I feel my confidence return. However, the moment is short-lived.

  I see Julie and give her a smile and a wave. She waves back but her grin is false and I’m now certain that Julie is mad at me. That guilt-induced sore throat from last night comes back, and it’s even worse than having strep. What if Julie knows about Yuri and me?

  Would it change anything?

  Several hours later I’m done at The Standout, I meet Yuri, and we board a train to Queens. Yuri says he knows of a construction site where we can climb. It’s not super-busy, so we don’t have to wait until dark.

  “How did it go today?” he asks. We are seated on the train. It’s not crowded but there are a handful of people. A mom is reading her novel while her son plays on a Nintendo DS, with little grunts and pops emanating out. There’s an oldish lady who has taken off one shoe. Her socked foot is in her lap and she absently rubs it as she stares out the window, which shows nothing but dark. There are a couple of business people and a guy in a hotdog-stand T-shirt.

  And, of course, Yuri and me.

  He’s sitting close to me even though we have room to stretch out. I’m worried that I smell. Nervous sweat is much stinkier than exertion sweat, and today was full of nervous sweat. “Today was interesting,” I tell him. “The dress my designer made was amazing, and she almost won, but they told her she needs more of a vision.”

  Yuri scrunches up his forehead. “What do you mean?”

  “Umm. . .” I search for words as the train suddenly lurches. My arms shoots out, trying to grab onto a pole, but the nearest one is still too far away. So I sort of tip over into Yuri. My shoulder meets his arm, my hair brushes his chest, and I can feel his breath against my cheek.

  It is the opposite of unpleasant. It is the opposite of smart.

  I sit up straight and ignore the tingly rush.

  “You were talking about vision?” Yuri asks. I nod and he continues. “Yes,” he says, “I understand. Is what I look for, you know? In Moscow, we are called ‘krovel'shchiki’.” I shake my head, not understanding, and Yuri furrows his brow. “Roofers,” he says, “that is our term, and there is many of us, because city does not know how to keep us away.” He runs one hand through his hair, pushing it back so it sort of stands up, like it hasn’t been washed in a while. But his smile is so charming that I forgive him for dirty hair. “We climb one time and we must go back. The rush, the feeling of grabbing all from life? I cannot stop.”

  “I understand.” I shrug, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s why I’m here.” I shouldn’t be here, after all. But I couldn’t get it out of my mind, climbing up so high, balancing on thin pieces of metal with no net, no rope to grab; it was just me, the city below, and the sky above.

  And I had never seen the world so clearly. “Up there,” I say, “I was no longer looking for something.”

  Yuri pinches his chin while he thinks this over. Is he trying to interpret, to get past the language barrier, or is he just a really deep thinker? “I see,” he says, slowly. “Yes, you are looking for something. The first moment I see you, I think, ‘she needs more.’”

  I laugh, unsure of what to say. “I’m not ex
actly malnourished, Yuri.”

  I expect him to smile and be dismissive, but he turns all serious. “Zelda, you must take your share.”

  “My share of what?”

  “Life.”

  The train hurls itself blindly down its path, grunting and groaning like a caged animal. I blink, tempted to look away from Yuri or to move away a fraction of an inch. That will show him I’m not interested, that even though he’s parting those soft, warm-looking lips as if he’s about to press his mouth to mine, I will flinch and tell him no. But I’m paralyzed because my body is on fire. Yuri is leaning in and this train, the people in it, and the world outside are a blur, just like the dark streaks that appear through the windows.

  Then the train squeals to a stop and the spell is broken.

  “Ah,” says Yuri. He stands with his usual composure. Does that little tick in his left hand mean that he’s shaken, like me? “We are here. Come. Let’s go.”

  I follow him to the construction site and we climb, and I know these are the moments I’ll remember, even before they’re over.

  Chapter 57

  The next time Yuri and I go roofing we are in Brooklyn and we’re not even up that high. We’re at another construction site and it’s just after 9:00 PM, but it’s not super busy so Yuri says it will be fine. We climb along heavy, steel planks and round patches of concrete, which will eventually be covered with wood, or more metal, or both. But right now they make a random, fun-house kind of staircase and getting to the top is a challenge.

  When we reach the highest point there are three-foot wide spaces to stand. There are also wide gaps where I could fall into a mess of timber and cement.

  Yuri is balancing on the same board as me. “I have surprise,” he says, grinning like the Cheshire cat. In the haze of darkness, light, and oxygen, his grin is the only highly visible thing.

  He takes out his phone, swipes a few times, and trumpet music plays. “You like?” Yuri asks. “I downloaded, just for you.” He moves closer, making it easier to hear. “Now we dance.”