CHAPTER ONE

I clasp the locket in the palm of my hand and take a deep cleansing breath.

The dancers, young women whom I've grown attached to over these past three weeks of endless training, practicing, and obsessing in readying ourselves for this very day, glide elegantly over the wooden floors, masses of grace and beauty.

I watch and hope that I'll be just as confident when I take the floor. I approach my coach, mentor, and dance partner of six years, Eli Jones, and try to cover up my trembling hands with the wrap I’m holding.I don’t know why I’m so nervous.

Dancing is like walking to me. I’ve done it ever since I was old enough to put one foot in front of the other. It’s been an outlet for me through the lonely nights of middle school and the stressful exam-filled days of high school, and especially through my four years at Julliard.

It’s been my relief from everyday life. But this will be the first time since my stay at the hospital four months ago that I'll dance in front of an audience.

Oh, shit. What if I fall on my face? With my hands shaking terribly, that’s a possibility.

My errant thoughts are interrupted by a hand on my shoulder, squeezing me from behind.

"You’re going to do fine, Sophia," Eli whispers in my ear with another squeeze to my shoulders.

I smile because I’m afraid that if I speak, I won’t make it to my dance before I talk my way out of it.

I have to do this. For me. For everything I've endured and every person that's lifted me up the numerous times I've fallen.

The slow instrumental of a Celine Dion melody begins, and I slip the gold-bowed ballet flats on my feet and pull my wavy black hair into a bun in preparation.

I pull in a deep breath as I glide onto the floor. It feels as if every moment leading up to this is enhancing my already frazzled nerves.

My body is strung tight from my toes to the tips of my fingers. I haven't done this in so long, I'm terrified that I'll mess up.

What do they say about riding a bike? Learning to drive? If you learned once, you'll positively remember how to do it no matter how much time has passed. I really hope that's true.

I stretch my fingers to the ceiling, and as I do this, my eyes flick over to see my always supportive dance coach looking at me.

When he nods his head, I know I can do this. I've got this. Taking another deep, deep breath, I begin to glide, making sure to stay in sync with the music playing overhead.

Near, far, wherever you are, I believe that the heart does go on. Once more you open the door and you’re here in my heart a nd my heart will go on and on.

My eyes close to the words filled with such emotion, such depth. I move to express everything inside me, and soon I don’t even have to think about the rhythm or the steps or the people from my academy's dance program watching my every move.

I’m one with my body, the angelic music, and the heartbeat inside my chest. My right leg lifts as if in a trance while my other lifts in front of me in a perfect arch.

I hold that position through a few strains of the violin and then glide back into position for my finish.

When the violin strains end, I go for my big ending and land it with easy grace as the audience applauds for me.

A larger-than-life smile spreads my lips, lifts my cheeks, and makes my eyes burn with the need to keep them open as I take in the number of people avidly applauding and celebrating.

This is my world and my love. All I need, I realize.

With the grief and the sadness of the last four months, I’m at peace when I’m dancing. The pain, the heartbreak, and the fear I felt when I woke up in the hospital weeks ago just disappears.

I'm caught in a pair of skinny, but muscular, arms as soon as I'm within reach and I giggle as Eli lifts me off my feet and laughs in my ear.

He squeezes me gently as he hangs on a little longer to our hug.

“You, my mistress, are back.”

I meet his gaze and nod, knowing I truly am back. Eli lets me go as I see my sister Kel standing by the locker rooms.

Hastily running to reach her, she hugs me so tightly. Her golden blonde hair engulfs me and I hug her back as tears sting my eyes.

"You were amazing, Sophia. I’m so proud of you, honey."

She grins against my head and I sniff into her Rolling Stones tee. I blink a few times so she doesn't think I'm sad today, because I'm not.

"Thanks for coming, Kel," I murmur, hooking one arm through hers to leave with everyone else in the building. We turn that way as she speaks only for my ears.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything in this world. I’m just sorry Mama wouldn’t come.”

I close my eyes and remind myself to be strong.

My mom hasn't talked to me ever since my older brother and her beloved son, died. I still remember the moment he flat lined. I was at Jeremy’s bedside with my arm in a sling as he fought for every breath.

A drunk driver ran into his side of the cab and he suffered internal bleeding along with broken ribs and massive head injuries.

We had no idea whether he'd wake up, and even if he did, would he remember us? Would he be our Jeremy? Or would he be a vegetable for the rest of his life?

In the end, though, his heart wasn’t strong enough and he passed exactly one hour and twenty-two minutes after he was brought into the emergency room.

It crushed me. Hell, it broke me along with Kel, and my mom especially, who placed all the blame on me.

I think the pain got to be too much for her and the only way she could cope was to be angry. At the world. At me. But God, did it hurt.