Shiny Broken Pieces by Sona Charaipotra Page A

arms gliding overhead—fifth position down to first and out to second. Our legs sweep high in arabesque, toes extended, strong. I can feel my body reaching, working, and hitting every step, catching every note.
    I have this. I worked hard for it.
    But in the mirror, my shadow, Riho, reflects the same. While you can see the work, the thought, I’ve put into the variation, Riho has given herself over to it completely, her eyes soft, her face serene, her smile effortless. I’m perfect, but she’s magic. Angelic. Effortless.
    I put all my focus back into the dance, back into myself, and then, just as we’re wrapping up, Morkie shouts again: “Add three piqué turns to finish.”
    I spin and spin and spin across the floor in a diagonal, and Riho bursts out in the other direction—her turns a tiny bit crisper and quicker. In opposite corners, we each take our bow.
    â€œBrava,” Morkie shouts cheerfully, nodding her appreciation. “Riho, flawless.”
    Damien’s face betrays no emotion, no pleasure or critique. He’s stone, unyielding.
    Morkie steps right in front of me. She pats my cheek. “June, your technique is very nice.” I bask in the praise. “Relax a little,like Riho. Look like you’re enjoying it. I need to see passion. The danseur russe .” She stamps her foot and bells out her arms in a signature danseur russe movement. “We have to want to watch you.”
    I deflate. Energy shoots out of my arms, legs, feet, and heart. I turn to face the wall so no one can see my face or the tears welling in my eyes. I’m fine. I can do this. I do have passion.
    We scurry back to the corner, where the rest of the girls wait, as Gigi and Cassie and Eleanor take the center. Riho immediately is enveloped by Sei-Jin’s group, and I can already hear them giggling and twittering in Korean. How does Riho even begin to understand what they’re saying? Maybe she just doesn’t care.
    â€œOh, too bad,” comes Sei-Jin’s voice, a low whisper so Morkie won’t hear—but loud enough so I do. “Poor June, never quite good enough, huh? So sad.”
    I try my best to ignore her, focusing on Gigi and Cassie, and the contrast between them, but Sei-Jin gets right up in my space, not two inches away, her warm breath on my neck as she continues. “Maybe it’s time to give it up,” she says in my ear. “Why not quit? Bow out gracefully.”
    I can feel my cheeks burn. I can’t let her get to me. Not now. Not anymore. I grab my dance bag and take out my phone. I type up a text to Jayhe right where she can see it.
    I can’t wait to see you this weekend!
    â€œYou’re such a bitch,” Sei-Jin says—a little too loud. “He’s using you. Just wait.”
    I turn around to face her, nearly knocking her over. “Oh,Jayhe loves me—he told me so himself. Maybe he used you.”
    That’s when I notice that the music has stopped, and Gigi, Cassie, and Eleanor are paused—Gigi angry, Cassie amused, Eleanor confused—as Morkie storms over to us. Damien stands near the piano, looking irritated.
    â€œGirls!” Morkie shouts, her eyes flashing to Damien and then back to us. “Have you lost it? This is not how we behave in ballet class. Go to your rooms. I will talk to Mr. K.”
    Sei-Jin and I don’t speak as we make our way to the elevators, and ride in silence up to the twelfth floor. When the doors open, she gets off, but I let them shut again in front of me.
    â€œWhere do you think you’re going?” she shouts. I like seeing the doors close and erase her face and voice. I press the button for the first floor and ride down again, the anger slowly building up inside me, threatening to burst. How can Morkie treat me like that? Would they if they only knew who I really am? Or maybe they all know Mr. Lucas is my dad, and they don’t care, because after all, he