I run back to the building. Suze is standing by the windows, her blond hair bright, her face etched with worry. “Are they arresting him?”
I can’t answer, gasping and trying to breathe, half crying. “Can you get Blitz?” I manage to ask.
“I gotta tell Danika what’s going on first,” she says, and takes off in the wrong direction, toward the office.
I turn and lean against the glass. Denham is on the ground, his cheek smashed against the sidewalk. Ted stands a few feet away. The police officer is talking into a headset. His hand is on Denham’s back.
He’s so screwed. On probation. Protective order. Violated. He’ll go back to jail. It’s my fault this happened. I led him right into the zone.
Danika rushes into the foyer, Suze on her heels. She sees me and stops. “Did he come in here? Are you hurt?”
I’m crying too hard to speak but shake my head no.
“Stay here,” she orders and takes off down the steps for the parking lot. Suze puts her arms around me. “It’ll be okay. You want me to get Blitz now?”
I nod.
She moves away.
But she’s only gone a moment when the lights blink. God. The class transition. Everyone will come out and see a handcuffed man on the ground. More students will drop out. The other wheelchair girls. They might cancel the class for good. Gabriella will never come back. I’ll never see her again.
I dash out the door. “Let him go!” I shout. “Please! The kids are coming! They can’t see this!”
When I get to the huddle of people, Danika turns to me. “He’s violated the protective order,” she says. “This isn’t a choice anymore.”
“I led him down the sidewalk,” I say, frantic now. “Please, don’t arrest him. Everyone is going to see!” I kneel down next to Denham as if I can shield the world from spotting him.
But it’s too late. Cars start pulling in, parents bringing the next round of dancers. Kids start filing out the doors, leaving their classes.
Some of the parents hesitate, holding on to their children and hanging back on the steps. One or two of the cars slow down to turn, then drive right on by when they see the man on the ground.
“That’s more emails,” Danika says. She looks down at Denham. “Are you trying to destroy my dance studio?”
“I just want my daughter,” Denham says, his cheek still pressed to the pavement. “That’s all I want.”
“Quiet,” the police officer orders. “I’m waiting on backup,” he says to Danika. “This was just supposed to be a serve.” He looks down at me. “I’d really prefer you stay away, Miss. I saw him harassing you.”
“He wasn’t…” I say, but trail off. There is no way to explain the complicated events that led to this moment.
“I’ll get in the car,” Denham says. “I won’t cause any trouble.”
“Boy, you have already caused a lot of trouble,” the officer says.
“He’ll do it,” I say quickly. “I know him. Just let him get in the car. Don’t scare everyone.”
“I’ll help,” Ted says.
The officer peers over at Ted. “And who are you?”
“My hired security,” Danika says.
“All right,” the officer says. He pulls Denham up by the handcuffs. “Into the car.”
Denham stands. The officer and Ted lead him over to the vehicle. When he’s safely inside and the door closed, my hands start to tremble. It’s too much. All of it. I wish I had never met him, never talked to him, never let him near me.
I wish he had told me he was my brother, and we’d just been friendly and graduated from the same school. Or even that he hated us all along and ran off with his parts-stealing friends.
The sidewalk bites into my knees. I want to get up and go back in the academy, but I don’t have the strength. The class yesterday. The stress today. I can’t handle it.
A breeze picks up the loose tendrils around my face, but I can’t even lift my arm to push them away. I just want to lie down and do nothing, think nothing, be nothing.
I know when Blitz comes out because I feel his arms around me. “Come on, Princess,” he says. “They’ve got the bad guy.”
I want to say that he isn’t the bad guy. That I am. That I led him to all of this. I pursued him when we were young. And I led him to this arrest. It’s me. All me. I’m the worst thing to happen to him.
When I don’t move, Blitz scoops me up and carries me back to the academy. We pass everybody, the wheelchair girls, Janel, Suze.
I keep thinking each day that this is the worst day, but it just keeps happening. Bad day after bad day. This nightmare won’t end.
Blitz carries me down the hall to the storage room. It’s our happy place, dimly lit from the light coming in the high windows, rays landing on costumes and sparkly hats. He sets me on a stack of mats.
“Talk to me, Princess,” he says.
“He knows I know where Gabriella is,” I say, gulping air.
“That’s okay,” Blitz says, smoothing loose hair back from my forehead. “That’s different from knowing where she is.”
“But I can’t even see her anymore. Gwen removed her from the academy.” More fat tears roll down my face.
Blitz lets out a gush of air. “That’s tough. Do you know where they live?”
“Yes, but I can’t exactly show up there.” I throw up my hands. “Hello, Gwen, we stalked you all the way to your house to force your daughter to do a dance lesson!” My voice is shrill. I feel on the verge of hysteria.
“We can handle it delicately. We can say that we agree that the academy isn’t safe and we have a new location.” His voice is calm, but this only upsets me more.
“Do you know how crazy that sounds?” I cry. “I just have to accept that I’ve screwed up. As soon as I went on your show, I put everything at risk.”
Blitz holds my head, his palms on both my cheeks. He bends down until he’s looking right in my eyes. “No, Livia. When you went on my show, you saved everything. You saved us. You saved me. And we’re going to make this work.”
“He’ll tell everybody,” I say. “Gwen will find out. God. It’s over.”
Blitz drags me against him and holds me tight. “Not if he’s on our side,” he says.
I hold my breath for a moment. I couldn’t have heard him right. “What do you mean?”
“Let’s go bail him out of jail. Get him a lawyer. Clean him up. Let’s help him, and work out a deal we can all live with. You. Him. Gwen. She had to know this day might come. They didn’t have a signature for a father. Did you ever look to see who your dad wrote down on the birth certificate?”
“I did.” I force out a laugh. “Engelbert Humperdinck.”
“The singer?”
“Yeah. Dad was always fascinated with his name.”
“Well, that should have been a red flag for the adoption agency,” Blitz says. “For Gwen. They ignored it. They’ll know they did.”
“They let it go, I guess. I don’t know what Dad told them. We’d have to ask him.”
“This is great, actually. The sort of thing a lawyer can build a case on.” Blitz lifts me up and sets me back on the ground. “Let’s call Jeff and have him refer somebody local to help us out. Then we can go bail out your baby daddy.”
I follow him back to Studio 3 to change out of my ballet slippers. I don’t know if helping Denham is the right thing. But it’s a plan. It’s something.