Dancing in Red Shoes Will Kill You Read Online Free Page A

toe pads when Joey called me over. “Look at this,” he said, gesturing toward a poster on the wall next to the tights.
    Â 
    Attention Dancers:
    The school store has many of your needs.
    Leg warmers, leotards
    toe shoes, tights
    ice packs, Ace bandages
    tape and gauze.
    But, we’re sorry to say,
    we’re all out of applause.
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    â€œVery cute,” I said. “It makes us sound like a bunch of masochistic egotists.”
    â€œThat wasn’t how I meant it.”
    Joey and I spun around. I stared into the eyes of the speaker and immediately knew he had to be Gray. My next thought was that the name Gray was all wrong for him. It was too bland, too flat, too insipid. His eyes looked at the poem and then back to me. With those eyes he should have been named Aquamarine, Cerulean, Indigo. Yes, that was it, Indigo.
    â€œI’m Gray Foster,” he said. “I didn’t mean to offend the dancers. It’s just a poem I put together while I was looking at the inventory list.”
    I laughed self-consciously. “I was just kidding,” I said. “I’m a big fan of poetry.” Ugh. I was just as bad as Melissa. The only poetry I’d read was in English class.
    While Joey introduced himself, I did my own inventory: dark wavy hair pulled back in a ponytail, good body (not as good as Joey’s, but good), and those eyes, whoa. I really hoped Devin was wrong.
    â€œCan I help you find something?” Gray said.
    â€œUh…umm.” Suddenly I couldn’t remember what I was looking for.
    â€œDidn’t you want some lamb’s wool?” Joey said.
    â€œYeah, lamb’s wool,” I said, “for my pointe shoes.” How stupid did that sound? Of course it was for my pointe shoes, or maybe I was going to make a sweater with it.
    Gray picked up a small plastic packet with some kind of gel inside it. “We just got these in,” he said. “Some of the dancers are using them instead of lamb’s wool or foam rubber pads.”
    Joey picked one up and squished it between his fingers. “They look like breast implants.”
    I shot him a look, the kind I usually reserved for Melissa. Then I quickly glanced at Gray to see if his eyes were on my breasts. Surprisingly, they weren’t. He was looking at my face. Was that a good sign?
    â€œI think I’d rather stick to the lamb’s wool,” I said.
    Gray bent over to get a fresh box out of the cabinet. Joey and I took the opportunity to check out his butt.
    I was in a daze by the time I pulled out my wallet to pay for the lamb’s wool, captivated by Gray’s looks and charm. I could have forked over two week’s allowance and not even known it. By the time Joey and I got out of the store, Joey had invited Gray to watch the auditions for Cinderella and I’d professed a deep love for poetry as well as the desire to attend one of his mother’s readings.
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    â€œSo what did you two think about the new guy?” Paterson said as she steered her Jetta out of the parking lot.
    â€œI think Devin might have been right,” I said.
    â€œNo way,” Joey answered.
    I turned toward the backseat. “I’m serious. He didn’t even look at my boobs when you made that crack about breast implants. And, by the way, what was that all about?”
    Joey shrugged. “I’m sorry. They looked like implants. It was the first thing that came to my mind.”
    â€œWhere have you seen breast implants?” Paterson said.
    â€œOn one of those TV specials where they show you things like liposuction and plastic surgery. They made little slits around the woman’s nipple and—”
    â€œOkay, that’s enough,” I said. “We believe you. Let’s get back to why you don’t think he’s gay.”
    â€œOh, that,” Joey said. “He was checking you out like crazy when you weren’t looking. He’s a typical guy, just better at