Chapter 3

"Alright, alright, that's enough," Chloe Brown said softly. "Ms. Gable, how about this? Chloe Miller and I can have a fair competition. Whoever meets the target weight gets to perform."

Ms. Gable brought out a scale and lined everyone up.

One by one, the dancers stepped on.

"118 lbs... 115 lbs... 123 lbs..."

The numbers stayed consistently around the low 110s and 120s.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped onto the metal scale.

The digital screen flickered before locking onto a number: 152 lbs.

"Whoa!"

Zach's dramatic gasp echoed loudly across the studio.

He covered his mouth in mock horror. "No wonder I couldn't lift you! Over a hundred and fifty pounds? Seriously, Miller, are you trying to crush me to death?"

The classroom erupted in laughter again.

Ms. Gable's expression soured. She frowned at me. "Chloe Miller, your weight is indeed over the limit for a dancer. You know what the professional standard is. Go home and get a grip on it. Stop being lazy."

I stood there, completely numb, and nodded.

"Next," Ms. Gable called.

Chloe Brown stepped onto the scale with grace.

A collective gasp filled the room.

"Oh my god, only 110 lbs!"

"That's so light! Chloe, how do you keep such a perfect figure?"

Chloe Brown blushed. "There's no secret, really. Just eating less and practicing more. Dance is the art of expressing beauty, after all—"

She paused, casting a subtle, mocking glance in my direction. "If you can't even control your own weight, how can you claim to love dancing?"

The studio fell quiet for a second before a wave of agreement washed over the room.

"Exactly!"

"Chloe Brown is amazing. So beautiful and disciplined."

Even Ms. Gable smiled, looking at Chloe Brown with pure admiration.

Then, she turned her cold, disapproving gaze back to me.

"Did you hear that? You both study dance, but she not only has a perfect body, she has the right attitude."

"Chloe Miller, your technique is solid, but what good is technique if your lines look like that on stage? The audience judges with their eyes first."

"Chloe Brown will take your spot for the showcase."

I lowered my head, my fingernails digging so deep into my palms that they drew blood.

During the rest of the class, everyone paired up to practice "Chasing Light."

I was left standing alone in the corner, looking like a pathetic outsider.

Zach's enthusiastic voice drifted over to me. "Don't worry, Chloe. With me as your partner, we're going to own that stage."

After school, I snuck into the old, abandoned dance studio.

And I danced. Over and over again.

I refused to accept this.

I had practiced "Chasing Light" for six years. Every step, every beat, was carved into my bones.

I couldn't just let it go.

Deep down, a pathetic sliver of hope lingered.

Maybe if Zach and Chloe Brown didn't click, I'd still have a chance to dance with him.

With no partner to lift me, I imagined his hands on my waist, leaping into the air on my own.

My practice clothes were soaked in sweat. My calves cramped, and my knees throbbed with pain.

But I didn't stop.

Only utter exhaustion could numb the humiliation eating me alive.

"Practicing like this will only ruin your body."

A cool, calm voice echoed from the doorway.

Startled, I spun around.

A tall, handsome guy was leaning against the doorframe, watching me.