We had to wait three hours for school to let out and for Daisy Totters to be released to dance lessons. I don't think my legs stopped shaking or my nails stopped tapping the entire time we waited, even if Damien tried to distract me with lunch.

The Meadow Valley square was way sadder than it sounded. There was a fountain in the center with some memorial plaques I never read, surrounded by dead flowers no one cared for, and, like, six stores and restaurants just off the street’s roundabout.

And… that was it.

It was the center of the small town and was about as impressive as anything else you’d see there.

There was only one dance studio, on the eastern corner, and as we sat at one of the tables at the restaurant, waiting and watching like we were on a stakeout, eventually a brunette girl walked by that looked strikingly familiar.

That was her. I saw her at the house, even if she looked a bit different with her long hair swirled into a low bun and a black leotard instead of a prom gown.

I didn’t even notify Damien when I stood up and dashed for the door of the studio. By the time I made it in, Daisy was off on the side of the room, performing some ballet stretches—ones I was all too familiar with.

I tried to walk onto the floor, but a large woman with short black hair stopped me. “Excuse me. Who are you?”

“Oh, uh…” I stuttered. I didn’t have a plan for this one. “I’m, uh… Daisy’s personal trainer. I’m here to make sure she’s stretching correctly. If she pulls a muscle today, her mother will have a fit.” My words got more confident as I fell into character.

I was, after all, an actor of sorts, or so I liked to tell myself.

“Sure, whatever. Make sure she loosens up her back. She’s been stiff the past few weeks,” the woman said and shooed me onto the dance floor just as Damien walked through the door.

I shrugged at him as he got left behind with the other parents to watch from the sideline.

The entire left wall of the floor was one giant mirror and it was then I realized I hadn’t looked in the mirror once today. Damien was right: I did look awful.

The top of my hair was like an unkempt fern. The sides which I normally shaved down to practically nothing had gone longer than needed, and now parts stuck up in odd directions. I hadn’t done my make-up, but that was fine. I had a naturally more androgynous face, especially since I'd put on muscle to compliment it.

Truthfully, It didn’t matter to me much if people could tell what my assigned gender was, as long as they accepted that I rejected it.

I stood over Daisy, towering over her like a shadow of death. She looked ridiculously innocent in her adorably weak straddle split, touching her pug nose to her knee. When she looked up, I could see the line of brown freckles scattered across her porcelain skin.

She looked more like a teenage Shirley Temple than some kind of murderer.

That innocence faded the second she opened her mouth. “Ugh. It’s you. I ain’t tellin’ you nothing,” she spat in her cliché pseudo-southern accent. I have to admit, that threw me off. I expected something a bit closer to Christopher’s reaction.

I’d known plenty of wolves that looked like sheep back in my day. I kept that in mind and refused to go easy on the wide-eyed princess. “Hmm. I doubt that. Where is Sky?”

She bent down to her other knee, placing her body flat against her leg now that she knew I was watching. “I don’t know, and I don’t care.” Show off.

Two could play that game. I got down on the ugly wooden ballet floor, thankful I didn’t put on actual pants before I left the house. Yoga pants were solely loungewear for me unless my niece suddenly went missing and I left the house in a rush.

I did the center split at least ten degrees flatter than hers and began following her stretches. It not only proved she wasn’t a special snowflake but also sold my cover because that large woman kept looking over at me.

I flopped my upper body right to the floor, then propped myself up on my elbows to look over at Daisy’s shocked face. “I recommend you find out.”

Daisy stuck up her nose and pulled her legs together for a V-sit. She hugged her knees and bent forward. “Believe me, I’d love to.” She held that position for a few seconds then came back up. “I should be gettin’ a Broadway callback right now but instead I’m here.”

I mimicked her every move, but better. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Sorry. One of the rules of the game was that we are sworn to secrecy.” She rolled onto her stomach and stretched out her back by pulling her toes up to her head. “I don’t know where she went with them, and honestly, I don’t care. I spent months puttin’ last night together and she ruined it.” At least Daisy Totters was proof that using the correct pronouns didn’t exempt you from being a snotty little brat.

“Them? As in multiple people, or someone with they/them pronouns?” I attempted to copy her again, but it was a horrible idea and I knew it. My back lost so much of its flexibility in the accident. I pushed through the searing pain until my toes touched my purple hair.

An eighth grader wasn’t beating me at this.

Daisy just stared at me like I was missing the entire point, which… fair. Sky had gone off with someone. That was information. I didn’t know if that was better or worse than what my mind had come up with. At least she’d possibly still be alive.

Daisy stood up and began cycling through first through fifth position with her feet.

I got up with flair because I had problems and for some reason proving I was better than a fourteen-year-old made me feel better about myself. I rolled back and performed a perfect kip up—a risk since I hadn’t done one in years, but I still had it down pat.

My back, however, did not. Pain shot through to my skull but I did my best not to make a face.

“Who are you?” Daisy asked with a raised lip and judgmental eyes.

“Just Sky’s babysitter,” I said with my chin held high. “And someone who will make your life miserable if you let her get kidnapped from her own home.”

“Sure.” Daisy began to pirouette with admittedly good spotting. “If it’s kidnapping when she volunteers to go.”

“Sky wanted this to happen?” This time I didn’t copy her. There was too much rattling around in my head, and my back wasn’t going to take much more. “What is going on?”

Daisy stopped her spins and looked at me through the mirror. Her mouth twisted in all kinds of ways like she wanted to say something but her face wouldn’t let her. She took in and released a sharp breath then got something out, “Find the book. I left it in her room. That’ll explain things. And if you see her, let her know I’m mad, and she’s out of the group.”

Daisy took off in a series of ballet moves. I memorized every spin, kick, and tour jeté as she leaped to the opposite side of the floor. My back be damned. That little show-off was going down. I replicated her moves one by one, then threw a little B-flip in the end for flair.

Was it a ballet move? Nope. Did it feel like my spine was going to shatter when I landed? Absolutely. Did I look like a badass? Hell yeah, I did. It was worth the pain to see the flaring of her nostrils.

I leaned down to her and said, “It’s too bad you weren’t nicer to Sky. Her babysitter worked for James Gunn once. Maybe they could have put in a good word,” and then walked away as her jaw dropped and nose scrunched.

It was really only half of a lie. I was hired on a film for a stunt gig and then hurt myself during rehearsals on the second day, and my doctor made me call it off. Little Miss Daisy Totters didn’t need to know those details.

I walked out with a smile on my face. I’d learned plenty from Snobby Totters. Sky probably wasn’t dead. She was still playing some messed-up game, was with someone else, and there was a book in her room that explained it all.

With that, I was satisfied.

Damien waited for me by the exit, arms, and legs crossed with a disapproving look. “Should you be doing all of that?”

“Nope.” The fire in my back raged, but I regretted nothing. So what if the doctors said I could be paralyzed if I landed the wrong way just once? The trick was to, well, not land wrong. Then I had nothing to worry about.

Damien held the door open for me shaking his hypocritical head. What did he care if I hurt my back more?

He never cared the first time around.