“Terrible.”
Miss Natalia walks over, her effortless elegance indicative of a ballerina. My hands tighten on the barre as I glance at the clock. Half an hour left.
“Do you hate ballet, Lilia? You don’t try at all.”
I fidget. “N-no.”
She sighs. “I’ve been teaching long enough to know that’s a lie.”
When I walk out of the studio that day, I do it knowing that I will not return.