The Cursed Ballet Read Online Free Page A

worked her leg high up behind her, kicking it out and staring at the mirror in front of her so she wouldn’t have to look at Madeleine.
    Mirror-Madeleine looked helplessly at the girls across the room. Ophelia felt bad for just a moment. Then Madeleine’s turn to dance came, and she toed her way to the stage.
    Ophelia decided just to note all the looks the girls gave her or gave one another about her for further diary entries. She could document their jealousy in the pages of the diary. Then she’d have a date with Devon that was untainted by her frustration with her friends. What kind of friends were they, anyway? To not give her space when she needed it? She would have to find a way to avoid them more often, if that were possible.
    Ophelia was relieved to see that Madeleine didn’t come back toward her once she’d run off the stage. The corps danced on. Ophelia continued to stretch at the barre, getting ready to dance Giselle’s death scene. As she bent over her knee to keep limber, a wave of blackness swept in. Dizziness overtook her. She stood up slowly, feeling her heartbeat thumping hard.
    She took deep breaths, willing the dizziness to go away. This was one of Ophelia’s favorite scenes to dance—no way was she going to miss it.
    Madame Puant waved the corps off the stage and called to Patrick to play the death scene. She looked at Ophelia and said, “All right. Are you ready?”
    Ophelia nodded, aware that all eyes were on her. Madame squinted at her, a look of concern passing over her face. Ophelia gathered herself up and took center stage, fighting back the darkness that still lingered in her peripheral vision.
    Patrick started the music, and the feeling of the dance took Ophelia over. Everything she felt for Devon came through in her movements. She thought of the agony of losing him and tears almost started flowing. She used that pain, converting all the sadness, loneliness, and despair into a haunting performance. In that moment, Ophelia was Giselle.
    As she came out of a particularly hard turn, she caught a glimpse of someone in the open studio door. A woman, stately and well dressed, stared at her with an intensity that could rival Madame. The woman wore a long, tailored coat and small diamond earrings. Her hair was tied back in a severe twist. Her dark eyes held on to Ophelia’s until Ophelia forgot where she was and snapped her out of her reverie.
    In that moment, the room went black. The last thing she heard was a voice say, “She’s falling.”

Chapter 8
    When Ophelia woke up, she was in a bed of some sort with an IV hooked up to her. The stern, bright eyes of the academy nurse hovered over her.
    â€œWell, hello, Sleeping Beauty,” Nurse John said.
    Ophelia struggled to sit up, but Nurse John pushed her back down gently. “Nuh-uh, I don’t think so. You blacked out and had a nasty fall in class. You’ll be in here for a while.”
    Ophelia groaned and moved her knee. She could feel a scrape rubbing against her tights. And then panic overtook her.
    â€œWhat time is it?”
    Nurse John furrowed his eyebrows and said, “Ten P.M. Why?”
    Ophelia sighed and sank back. She hadn’t missed Devon. She was cutting it too close for comfort, but at least she hadn’t missed midnight.
    â€œI’m just wondering how long I was out,” she answered.
    Nurse John frowned and then checked her IV and moved some things on the table beside her. A large can of coconut water stood on Ophelia’s table. The nurse cracked it open.
    â€œWell, you passed out around five thirty, then came to about six when they brought you in here. Then you fell asleep and have been sleeping ever since. You clearly needed it.”
    He brought a chair next to her bed and interlaced his fingers, his expression kind but worried.
    â€œOphelia, when was the last time you ate?”
    Ophelia was startled. She hadn’t even thought of food. At the