Dance of Shadows (18 page)

“We’ll do the assignment later,” she said, and took out her iPad. She lowered her voice. “Remember during orientation, when Josef said that at least a quarter of every class quits before the end of the first year?”

TJ leaned back in her chair. “Remember?” she said with a laugh. “Those words have been haunting me for weeks!”

Steffie bit her lip. “Well, there’s more.” She gazed around, her eyes somber. “Elly’s only the latest. They don’t just drop out. A lot of them disappear entirely.”

Vanessa felt her throat tighten.

“What do you mean, disappear?” Blaine asked.

“Like they are never heard from again,” Steffie said. “At best, they’re shrugged off as runaways or drug addicts, and at worst—well, you’ll see.

“I was doing research in my journalism class this morning when I started coming across articles about runaway ballerinas,” Steffie continued. “So I downloaded all these articles about missing students.”

She slid over her iPad.

Vanessa had barely read the first headline when she felt a wave of dread. BALLERINA MISSING. She looked at the photograph of a young girl, the caption stating her name, age, and the last place she was seen. With TJ and Blaine huddled over her shoulder, she began to read about missing dancers—girls who had simply vanished, their photographs printed beside the article with the caption:
MISSING. If you have any information regarding this person, please contact the NYPD
.

The oldest article dated back twenty years, and the most
recent was published in August, with the headline HIGHS AND LOWS OF THE NEW YORK BALLET ACADEMY. It was a full-length feature about NYBA and its history of girls dropping out. Most of it was familiar, the high pressure put on girls from choreographers and even parents, the physical stress and medical risks of rehearsals and dancing
en pointe
.

“She just picked up and left,” a former NYBA student said of one girl who, like many of the others, had been cast in a lead role. “She left a note saying she couldn’t take it anymore. I thought she was going home, but I guess she wanted to start over.”

Vanessa was surprised to see Anna Franko’s name before the next quote. “I heard she was living with a boyfriend in Queens,” Anna said of the most recent disappearance, Chloë, who had dropped out just before school began. “She cried a lot toward the end. But it was probably for the better. She wasn’t happy here.” When asked if she had talked to Chloë since she’d dropped out, Anna dodged the answer. “I don’t want to talk about that,” she’d said.

“Anna?” Vanessa whispered. Something about her last answer wasn’t right. Even though all of the disappearances were explained—just like her sister’s—none of them really made sense.

“It’s a cover-up,” Vanessa said, just as their teacher bent over their desks.

“And how is everything going over here?” he asked. Steffie quickly slid her notebook over her iPad.

“We just started compiling a list,” Blaine said, holding up a piece of paper scrawled with illegible notes.

Mr. Harbor squinted at them, trying to make out the words. “Very good,” he said, and moved on to the next group.

“A cover-up?” TJ said once he was gone. “What do you mean?”

“Doesn’t it seem a little strange that so many girls went missing without ever being heard from again?”

“But didn’t you read the quotes?” TJ said. “None of their friends thought anything sketchy was going on.”

“But none of their friends ever heard from them again either. Dropping out and going home is one thing, but disappearing completely? That’s not normal.”

“The police don’t seem to think so,” Blaine chimed in.

“The police don’t know everything,” Vanessa began to say, but Steffie cut her off.

“I did a little research of my own, and found out that a lot of these girls were supposed to play the Firebird.”

“What?” said Vanessa. The articles didn’t mention that.

“I know,” Steffie said. “I guess the school never divulged it to the police. But I went through all the old cast lists, and it’s true.”

“Justin knows,” Vanessa whispered. She thought of that afternoon in the library, when Justin had told her about all the old cast members who had disappeared. She had brushed him off, but he’d been right.

“I don’t understand,” said Blaine. “How come we never heard about this?”

“Because the school is probably trying to keep it quiet,” Steffie said. “I mean, if you’d had so many leading ballerinas
drop out over one ballet, the hardest one, would you announce it to everyone?”

“My parents …,” said TJ. “They never mentioned anything like this to me. I doubt they even know.” She paused. “But then what about Elly? She disappeared like these girls. But she wasn’t cast as the lead …”

“Elly has nothing to do with this,” Steffie said firmly. “She’s fine. She said she dropped out. And she’s at home. If she had disappeared, her parents would be here looking for her.”

“But what if her parents don’t know she’s gone?” TJ said, unable to control the tremble in her voice. “What if the school never told them because they’re covering something up? Her e-mail didn’t sound like her. Something’s wrong.”

Steffie and Blaine exchanged a worried look. Vanessa had to agree that what TJ was saying did sound extreme, but TJ seemed so shaken that Vanessa didn’t want to upset her further—so she said nothing. She was so lost in her thoughts that when the next article came up, she wasn’t prepared.

At first she didn’t understand what she was seeing. That long, familiar chestnut hair. Those soft hazel eyes staring back at the camera; the delicate lips pursed in a smile. Vanessa touched her finger to the screen. Even in the gritty newspaper photograph, she looked rosy, full of life. And then she read the caption.

MISSING: MARGARET ADLER, BALLERINA

A silence fell over the group as they stared at the smiling girl on the screen, her face a thinner, more delicate version of Vanessa’s.

A memory flashed before her eyes: years ago, back in Massachusetts, when she and Margaret were kids.

“I’m coming for you!” her older sister had yelled. It was the middle of the summer, and their father had set up a sprinkler in their backyard to cool them off. They’d used the hose to fill a few leftover balloons from a birthday party, and now they were having a water fight. “Watch out, Vanessa!”

Vanessa had ducked as Margaret tossed a balloon in the air. It missed her and smashed against the back of their house. Vanessa giggled and ran, her toes slipping through the wet grass. She passed the garage, and then everything was a blur. Suddenly there were two arms holding hers, stopping her from falling.

She looked up.

There was Margaret, her hair soaking wet, tiny beads of water running down her face. “Ness, you’ve gotta watch where you’re going.” Margaret pointed to the street outside their house, where cars were passing by. Vanessa had almost run out into the middle of the road without looking.

“I’m sorry, Margaret,” she had said.

“Don’t worry.” Margaret gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll always protect you.”

Turning away from her sister’s face, Vanessa pushed the iPad across the desk. “I—I don’t want to read anymore.”

“Hey,” Blaine said gently. “Are you okay?”

Vanessa gave him a quick nod but couldn’t look at him directly.

“Oh, honey, don’t do that,” Blaine said, and pressed his
hand to her brow. “If you want to frown like that in the privacy of your own room, fine, but I can’t sit here and watch you ruin that pretty skin with wrinkles.”

TJ swatted his arm. “Leave her alone.”

“I’m serious,” Blaine said. “We’re not going to look like this forever. We have to start planning for the future.”

TJ rolled her eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?” she said to Vanessa.

Vanessa bit her lip. “There’s nothing to say. Everything I know is probably in that article.”

But Blaine didn’t relent. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk? Like really, really sure?”

“Yeah,” she said, glancing up at him. “I’m fine. It was a long time ago.”

Blaine let out a melodramatic sigh. “Fine,” he said. “But I hope you realize that if you were anyone else, I would nag you until you told me. You know how much I hate suspense.”

Despite herself, Vanessa let out a laugh.

“Seriously though,” Blaine said, his voice earnest. “You know you can talk to us.”

“You’re not exactly who I’d go to with my deepest, darkest secret,” TJ said to Blaine. “No offense.”

Blaine was silent for a moment. “I know I have a brash—and beautiful—exterior. But I can be serious too. Mostly it’s just easier to make fun of yourself before other people have the chance.”

TJ pursed her lips and reached out to squeeze Blaine’s shoulder. “I get it.”

Vanessa felt surprised by how close she felt to her new friends. “I was just cast as the Firebird too,” she said softly. “Maybe it’s my turn next.”

“Your turn for what?” Steffie said. “Maybe all these ballerinas disappeared because they were stressed out. Maybe they ran away, or just dropped out without telling anyone. It doesn’t necessarily have to be sinister.”

“But what if it is?” Vanessa said. “You have to admit this is a bit too coincidental. Lead girls disappear—lost without a trace. There is a pattern here, one that seems to have started twenty years ago, and that means someone or something is behind it. Right?” She looked around at her friends. “Otherwise, why would it center around girls performing
The Firebird
?”

“Maybe it’s a particularly difficult dance,” TJ said.

Vanessa shook her head. “Enough to drive someone to drop out? I don’t think so.”

“But then what caused it?” TJ pressed. “Steffie said most of the girls who disappeared were cast as the lead in
The Firebird
, not all. Like Elly. She wasn’t cast in any production. There’s no rhyme or reason.”

Blaine gave a brief smile. “One never needs a reason to rhyme.” The girls stared at him. “What?” he said. “It’s true.”

Vanessa ignored him, leaning her chin on her palm. A part of her had never really believed that her sister had just run away. Margaret had been too happy at NYBA. And she was a good sister—if she had left school to start a new life, she would have told Vanessa. No, something else had happened to Margaret and the other girls. But what could explain all of the disappearances?

“Justin,” Vanessa suddenly blurted out. The other three turned to her.

“Justin killed them?” Blaine said, a little too loudly. As a few of their classmates turned around, he lowered his voice. “How do you know? I always thought he had a rage problem!”

Vanessa shook her head. “No, I meant maybe Justin would have more information. After all, he did know that cast members were disappearing.”

“Can you remember if he’s ever said anything else?” Steffie asked.

Vanessa thought back to all of her exchanges with Justin, her mind drifting to the one conversation that she couldn’t shake from her memory. “He said Margaret kept a journal. She never showed it to anyone, but she told people that if anything happened to her, all would be revealed in her entries. He thought she was crazy, that it was all in her head, but maybe …?”

“Justin said that?” Blaine asked. “I’m surprised he paid attention to anything she said.”

“I think he liked her,” Vanessa murmured, thinking back.

“So she rejected him,” Steffie said. “And he concluded that she was insane.”

“Yeah,” Vanessa said, remembering how he had mentioned that she had stopped talking to him. “Though he didn’t seem bitter exactly. More sad. I mean, he couldn’t have thought she was that crazy or he wouldn’t have repeated what she’d said.”

“
If anything happened to her
?” TJ repeated. “So she knew something was up.”

“I guess so,” Vanessa said. “But everyone thought she was crazy.”

Steffie leaned on the desk, deep in thought. “Sounds like an insurance policy in case anything happened to her.”

“What did it say?” TJ asked. “The diary.”

“I’ve never seen it. They shipped all of Margaret’s things back home after she disappeared. When my mom finally opened the boxes, I was there. I would have remembered a diary,” Vanessa said. “There wasn’t one.”

“Do you think she was lying about keeping one?” Blaine asked.

“No way,” Steffie said, answering for Vanessa. “If she thought someone was out to get her, she wouldn’t have left it in plain sight for anyone to find. She would have hidden it.”

“But where?” Blaine asked.

“If I were her,” Steffie said, “there’s only one place I would hide it.” She paused. “In her room. And by her room, I mean my room.”

At the sound of the bell, they raced back to the dormitory. Steffie’s side of the room was cluttered with clothes and papers, but Elly’s side was as bare as the day she’d left.

The slice of rosin was still on the desk from the night before. Vanessa wrapped Elly’s note around it and tucked it into her bag. Then she got on her hands and knees and, with the others, began to search. They looked everywhere—under the bed, behind the dresser, the underside of the drawers and the closet shelves; Vanessa checked the floorboards to see if any of them were loose. They emptied all of Steffie’s furniture, throwing her
things in a pile in the center of the room. TJ even reached inside the radiator, emerging with a tangle of dust and spiderwebs.