Maisie walked into the tiny foyer and stood outside the doors. She could hear the noisy buzz of voices and laughter from within. Everybody would’ve arrived for the class now, pulling on their dance shoes and tying their wraparound ballet tops at the waist.

When her mum dropped her off, the thought had crossed Maisie’s head to wait for two or three minutes in here to give her time to get out into the traffic and well away from the building before walking out and sitting in the little park a couple of streets away.

But it had started to drizzle with rain, and how would she explain being wet through when her mum came back to pick her up?

She glanced at her watch. Still three minutes until the start of class. They had been late leaving home thanks to Maisie ‘kicking off again’, as her mum described it.

‘What’s the matter with you lately, Maisie?’ Mum stood in the doorway of her bedroom, glaring at her empty dance bag lying on its side on the floor. ‘You’re never going to keep your part in the Christmas show at this rate. If you don’t buck your ideas up, Miss Diane is sure to notice.’

Talk of the show made Maisie want to throw up, but she’d be asking for trouble if she said as much to her mum, who had invested a lot of time and money in her dance classes. And Miss Diane had expected her to be delighted with her role.

She had to find some way of speaking to her mum properly about what was happening. How the fact that she’d got the lead role was making everything worse. She was still waiting for the right moment.

She couldn’t find the words to answer her mum, so she just looked down at her hands and waited for her to go away again. She couldn’t help noticing how heavy her heart felt when only a few months ago she would’ve been bouncing with excitement by the front door with ten minutes to spare before it was time to leave.

But her mum didn’t go away. She walked into the room and sat on the side of Maisie’s bed, placed her hand on her daughter’s shin.

Maisie bit down on her tongue. She could deal much better with her mum when she was screaming at her like a banshee.

‘You’ve not been yourself for a while, poppet. What is it? Don’t you like dancing any more?’

This was a surprise. Maisie had assumed her mum just thought she was being stubborn and misbehaving for the sake of it.

‘Come on, you can tell me. What’s wrong?’

Maisie smoothed a patch of creased quilt cover with the flat of her hand. Was this the right time to open her heart? She didn’t think so.

‘I just don’t… It’s not the same there any more.’

Her mum pressed her lips together. ‘Is this because Piper goes to all your classes now? You shouldn’t let that bother you.’

Easy for Mum to say. Piper flounced around as if she’d been going to the classes for years. Last week, she’d brought in two gift-wrapped rose petal bath bombs for the teacher’s birthday and Miss Diane had been apoplectic with delight.

‘Maisie?’ Her mum squeezed her shin until Maisie looked up at her. ‘This has got to stop, love. Tell me what’s wrong.’

Maisie’s heartbeat began to race and her fingers gathered the quilt into a tight bunch. This did seem like a good moment. Her mum was calm and concerned, and if she didn’t say anything, then how could things change?

‘I just… I don’t think I want to go there any more. They all hate me.’

There. She’d said it. Her shoulders relaxed a little and her fingers released the bunched-up fabric.

She looked at her mum, expected to see a sympathetic smile, a concerned expression. But there was no trace of that.

‘You’ll get nowhere being a quitter.’ Her mum stood up, brushed down her loose tunic top over her jeans. She looked down at Maisie, and when she saw her shiny eyes, her face softened. ‘Look, sweetie, I know you’re struggling at the moment, but all your classes are paid for in advance until the end of term. See it through and then we’ll talk about it, OK? You spend enough time stuck in your bedroom as it is. I really don’t think it’s a good idea to cut yourself off even further from your friends and hobbies.’

Friends? Didn’t her mum listen to anything Maisie said? The nail of her index finger worked its way slowly into the soft flesh of her palm.

‘I know I’ve been busy at work, and it’s been hard for both of us since your dad moved out, but we can get through this together.’ She sat down on the bed again. ‘We both have to be brave and not let circumstances affect us. You hardly see your friends these days and that’s probably why you’ve drifted apart; how about organising a sleepover here Saturday night?’

Was she really that clueless when it came to how girls acted with each other?

Maisie managed a weak smile, enough to hide the dread trawling through her stomach at the thought of being forced to invite people and nobody turning up.

‘So.’ Her mum squeezed her arm. ‘Are we agreed? You’ll carry on with classes for another six weeks and try a bit harder to reconnect with your friends?’

Maisie looked at her mum’s face. She could see tiny lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth.

Dad leaving had been hard on Mum too, she thought guiltily. Maybe her plan wasn’t such a bad one after all.

She smiled weakly and nodded.

‘Perfect! That’s settled then.’ Mum stood up again, checked her watch. ‘OK, five minutes tops before we have to leave, so get that bag sorted and let’s go.’

And that had been it. Six more weeks of dance classes agreed. No more arguments.

The double doors leading to the dance hall flew open now, the hum of voices exploding out into the foyer. Two girls Maisie recognised but didn’t know well scurried past her towards the bathroom.

Their heads bobbed closer and they glanced back at her, both suppressing giggles. As they disappeared into the bathroom, Maisie heard a burst of laughter.

They’d seen her now. If she didn’t go into class, they might tell Miss Diane.

Steeling herself, Maisie gripped the handle of her bag with one hand and pushed open the door with the other.

As she stepped into the dance hall, the noise surrounded her, invading her ears like a swarm of angry wasps.

Her heart began to hammer and the bottom of her back felt hot and sticky. She always felt like this now when she was in a crowd of people, or first thing in the morning at school when she had to walk into class.

Her chest felt tight, as if she couldn’t get enough breath in, and sometimes her face went all red and blotchy. It was stupid. Embarrassing.

Everyone was too busy chattering to notice her. She crept around the edges of the room, trying to mingle with the small clusters of girls dressed in grey and pink.

She used to march in and cut through the middle of the dance hall to where Zoe and Sandeep and the others would be standing at the top, near the stage. But now she avoided that end of the hall as she knew she would be there, waiting to make her look stupid.

Halfway up, on the right-hand side, she spotted Julia, and finally she breathed out.

She felt a flicker of guilt. Julia had a much worse time of it here than her. Nasty rumours had circulated for as long as Maisie had attended classes that Julia was really a boy called Julian. She was always alone and never got invited to birthday parties or anything like that.

To her shame, Maisie had joined in with the sniggering sometimes in the past, even though she’d felt a bit sorry for her… him. Whatever.

If Julia could find the courage, then surely Maisie could see it through for a few more weeks.

She sat on the floor and pulled her ballet slippers on, just as the two girls she’d seen in the foyer returned from the bathroom. One of them barged into Julia’s arm when she could’ve easily walked around her.

They giggled as they passed. Maisie opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself.

‘All line up at the barre, please,’ Miss Diane called out, and the room fell quiet.

Julia turned away, fumbling with her pink knitted top, and Maisie saw a tear roll down her cheek like a wet diamond before Julia’s hand furiously wiped it away.

‘OK, I’m looking for someone to demonstrate the perfect plié.’ Miss Diane beamed, looking around.

Not me. Not me. Please, not me, Maisie wished silently.

‘Maisie… our lead show dancer this year! Come up to the front.’ Miss Diane smiled.

Maisie stepped forward slowly, ignoring the nudges and suppressed giggles from the others. She was taller than most of them and felt like a flabby giant now as she clomped past slim, pretty Piper and the smirking girls who used to sleep over at Maisie’s house at weekends.

That was what it was like here when people switched friendship groups. If they decided you didn’t fit in, that was it.

Nobody got a second chance.