“Mom, watch this.”
“Not beside the stove.”
“Just one second.”
She would move the chairs aside and show me some step I couldn’t pronounce, then laugh when I tried to copy her.
She corrected Graham’s posture in the hallway one night and told him he stood “like a folding chair.”
Everything felt normal.
Then, slowly, it didn’t.
About a month after Colin started driving her, Tessa stopped showing me what she had learned.
At first, I assumed she was tired. Her schoolwork was heavier, and she was getting home late.
But soon, every question seemed to bother her.
“How was class?”
“Fine.”
“What did you work on?”
“Nothing special.”
“Are you hungry?”
“I’ll eat upstairs.”
Her dance bag stayed zipped.
Her shoes disappeared into her closet.
When the studio announced auditions for its spring performance, I expected Tessa to talk about nothing else.
Instead, she told me she wasn’t auditioning.
