Page 81 of Pages of Amber
When she stayed silent, her mom’s lips curved tauntingly. “Your little friend. The other one with blonde hair.”
Amber’s stomach tightened. Lexi. For a minute, she struggled between happiness for her friend and anger for what she had done. It was Lexi’s fault she had gotten injured and for what, to steal the role from her? Her hands grasped at each other as she recalled all the times Lexi had watched her in class, her eyes following Amber across the room at every practice. She had naively thought Lexi was trying to learn the steps. She hadn’t wanted to ask Evelyn about the Kitri role because she hadn’t wanted to know. It hurt enough that all her hard work had been for nothing. But for it to have gone to her best friend who had put her out of the race with her own hands? It was a cruel joke indeed.
“It’s a shame, you know?” Her mom snarled. “That I have to explain how my daughter got replaced for a role she was guaranteed to have by her own friend who, might I add, began ballet after she did. Tell me, Amber, does that sound good to you?”
Her eyes fell away from her mom. Amber couldn’t stomach the anger she saw in them. It was one thing thinking about Lexi’s betrayal. It was another thing hearing about it from the person whose approval for the role she had yearned the most. Her mother had mostly ignored her the past few weeks, acting as though she was invisible. It wasn’t hard. They lived at opposite ends of the house and had their separate schedules. The only thing she and her mother shared anymore were their meals and practice in the dance room. A secret part of Amber thought she preferred the distance of the past couple weeks over having her mom’s gaze needle into her again.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I know I should have been more careful.” The words left her with less remorse than usual. “But there was no way I could have known Lexi would–”
“I don’t care. You’ve already failed me, Amber. Your apology does nothing to change that.”
She stiffened in her seat. Her mom was doing it again. She wasn’t listening to her, She wasn’t willing to hear her side. She’d talk over Amber, hurt her with her words, scrape over her heart without a single care in the world, like she had done in Principal Ellis’ office. Everything had gone tumbling down from there. Amber’s stomach twisted, as though her subconscious knew this conversation would not go well.
Her mother sighed, reaching for her tea. She took a sip, added a sugar cube and lifted her spoon to stir it. Amber watched, helpless to do anything else. Her mom’s eyes rested on hers. “Lucky for you, I’m interested in building your career when all you do is tear it down.”
She paused, her eyes gleaming as she said, “I’ve been in contact with a scout from the Paris Opera Ballet School. He’s been monitoring your performances and wanted to see you dance at the theatre. That obviously won’t go as planned but I convinced him that you could perform in his production.”
Amber was sure she wasn’t breathing. “His production?”
“Yes. You see, he happens to be a former ballet master at Opera Ballet so the Coppélia will be performed on their stage. You fly out next week to join their dance troupe.”
She definitely wasn’t breathing. Her mind spun with the information her mom had dropped. A performance in Europe? She was basically being shipped off to another continent to perform with professionals on a healing ankle. How long would she be away? What about school? Her friends? Noah?
A well of emotions, jagged and tangled, rose in her chest. Why would her mom do this? She hadn’t said a word to her while she made these crazy plans to ship her across the country. Did she even care about Amber’s opinion in any of this? Then she sat there and dropped the news like Amber was supposed to do nothing but smile, nod and get to packing?
Her skin felt hot and her eyes blurred as she stared at her mother, a thin smile across her face. She hadn’t smiled at Amber in years. Not at any of her performances or at her competitions. She hadn’t even smiled when Amber came home with second place from a regional competition that dancers all over the world struggled to enter. She didn’t smile when Amber showed her the variation she’d painstakingly learned, while juggling her classes and project. But here she sat, smiling at the idea of her daughter moving away.
“Drop that look from your face. You don’t know how good you have it. Not every dancer has someone who can pull these kinds of connections for them. I mean, a professional ballerina like myself as your mother. What more could you ask–”
“No,” The word fell from her lips without much coaxing.
Her mother stared at her. “Excuse me?”
“No, Mom. I’m not going anywhere.”
A disbelieving scoff split the air. “I’m sure I didn’t hear right. It can’t possibly be the cause of old age, so why don’t you repeat that for me?”
The challenge in her mom’s eyes was clear. She wanted Amber to correct herself. She wanted Amber to agree with her, to stay quiet as she controlled her life, made decisions for her and criticized every little thing she did. The perfect daughter in Amber wanted to submit but the anger swirling in her wanted out. The two battled out in the seconds that ticked by. Good thing the anger was louder.
Her voice was strong when she said, “I’ve let you dictate everything that I am. I have spent years measuring myself to your standards over and over. I have done everything you asked of me. All so I could be perfect like you want. When will it ever be enough?”
The words hung in the air between them. Her mom’s grip tightened around the cup still in her hand. “Enough? How dare you even ask me that after everything you–”
Amber had never once interrupted her mother her whole life. She was learning how easy it was to pick up new habits. Her chair slid back as she pushed out of her seat. “How dare I? I think I’ve more than earned the right to question you, Mom. I slaved away at your mercy, begging for even a drop of your affection. I hurt my friends and broke myself trying to appease you. For years, I jumped when you said, ran when you called, stayed quiet when all I wanted was to pour it out. Did you feel anything? Do you even regret treating me that way?”
“I will not be talked down to by my daughter in my own home,” Her mom’s voice was sharp but Amber ignored the knife’s edge and pushed closer.
Bitterness ran in her throat as she taunted, “I’m your daughter now? Not a wooden puppet you can constantly chip at with backhanded insults, disappointment and anger?”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed on her. Blue on blue. Icy eyes that burned with fiery anger.
“I will not entertain this conversation with you.” Her teacup met the table with a hard clink. Gripping her gown, her mother stood. “It seems you require a bit of rest from your day out. I expect you to start packing soon.” And then she turned and left the dining room.
Amber clutched her hair, tempted to rip it out. She cared so little even when Amber was spitting mad and on the edge of rage. Her mother was wrong. She wasn’t tired. In fact, she was the most fired up she had ever been. She followed her out of the room, quick on her heels.
“No.” The word felt too good on her tongue. “I’m not running away from getting to the bottom of this and neither are you. I want to know the truth! What did I do to cause your anger and deserve your hate? Answer me, Mom.”
She caught a glimpse of Dottie in the kitchen doorway, her face pale and concerned. Amber was too strung up to linger on it. Her mother turned at the base of the staircase, her teeth bared as she faced her. “Stop this behavior at once, Amber. This is not like you. You sound like a lunatic with all that screaming. Upstairs, now.”
