Curvy Girls Can't Dance
Chapter One
“IT HAS TO FIT!” I told my mom, who was
attempting to help me into my dance uniform. The
one we were forced to order two sizes too small
because it didn’t come in the extra-large size I
needed. The one our studio director insisted I fit
into for the qualifier.
Tears stung my eyes as the mermaid costume
caught my hips and wouldn’t budge up another
inch. I sniffed, wiping at my nose. This was a
nightmare.
“Don’t cry!” Mom ordered in a hushed voice so
none of my teammates would overhear us in the
dressing room. “You’ll ruin your makeup!”
I fluttered my false lashes quickly, trying to stem
the tears, and made another effort to flex my legs
and suck in my stomach to give myself even a
millimeter more room. With a hard yank and the
sound of a few popped threads, the bottom made it
over my thighs.
I gasped. “Did it rip?”
Mom was silent for a moment. “I’ll get a
needle.”
I closed my eyes, trying to stay calm. We didn’t
have another choice at this point. It was either wear
the costume or forfeit the chance to dance at
nationals. No way would I give up a chance at gold
or an opportunity to dance in front of the top
dance recruiters in the country.
Everyone from college drill team coaches to the
New York Ballet would be at the Dance Dance
National Competition, looking for their next crop
of talented dancers. I swore I would be one of
them, size extra-large or not. Sausage casing
mermaid costume or not.
Why Galina forced me to purchase this exact
costume was beyond me. Especially when my mom
offered to custom make mine in more forgiving
materials.
Mom came back through the curtain and began
working around the back waist of my pants. A
needle pricked through the fabric and poked my
back.
“Ouch!” I hissed.
“Sorry, but I’m rushing,” she whispered back.
“We need to get out there.”
I gritted my teeth as I endured prick after acci‐
dental prick until finally, she stood, stretching her
back. “It should hold for the dance,” she said. “Just
be careful on your tilt.”
Just thinking of the standing splits made me
cringe. “Mom, I can’t take it easy today. These are
the qualifiers, and Galina’s been on my back all
month.”
She shoved the needle and thread back into her
sewing kit. “We just have to make it through today,
Adriel. Just one day. Okay?”
I nodded. We’d been working on this, waiting
for this moment for years. Ever since I first stepped
foot in Emerson Dance Academy as a four-year-old
girl, unaware of the massive yet subtle differences
between a temps de poisson and a temps de l’ange. We’d
come too far, put in too many hours and too much
money, to give up now.
Mom’s sleek blond bob was askew for what
seemed like the first time ever, and she tucked the
loose strands behind her ears before turning toward
the dressing room curtain and taking a deep breath.
I followed her out into the craziness that was a pre-
show dance room. In one corner of the room, Isabella
and Tatiana partner stretched, while Benjamin and
Alejandro warmed up their feet. Several other girls
worked through the routine moves in unison.
Each of them wore their dance uniforms like
they had been made for them. The material wasn’t
stretched to the hilt like it was on me, and they
moved freely as if they weren’t uncomfortable in the
slightest. I rubbed my hands over my tight costume,
wishing it fit like theirs.
Benjamin nodded at me and walked my way.
Not only did he dance in the group routine, he was
my partner for the couples’ dance portion of the
competition. Out of everyone at the studio, he was
the one I felt most comfortable around.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
I shrugged, trying to work out the kinks in my
neck. “I’ll be better when the group dance is over.”
He chuckled. “Great attitude, teammate.”
I smiled and shook my head. “You know I’m
ready.” I wanted to tell him about the costume
issue, but guys didn’t get it. And I hated for anyone
to know more about my issues with Galina than
necessary. It just made me look weak and took our
heads out of the most important game.
Besides, I had a different costume for the
couples’ dance—one that fit—and I couldn’t wait to
change into it.
A hush fell over the room, and I looked up to
see Galina walking through the door. My shoulders
immediately straightened, and I held my chin high.
Her steely black eyes scanned every dancer with the
precision of a hawk going in for the kill.
“Isabella, you call that a tendu?”
Isabella shifted her gaze down and redoubled
her efforts.
Galina turned her eyes on Alejandro. “For the
love of god, how many times have I told you?
Square shoulders.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, correcting his posture.
“Ruby.” Galina merely shook her head. “Ben‐
jamin. Fix your hair.”
He nodded and walked back to a mirror to fix
what already looked like a perfect hair style.
Galina stepped to me, her eyes taking me in,
from the tight bun atop my head to the even tighter
pants. Her eyes met mine again, contempt and
disappointment warring with each other.
“I see the diet is not working,” she said.
A hand touched my shoulder, and I saw Mom
stepping to my side.
“We have a doctor’s appointment for her on
Monday,” Mom said quickly. “We’ll find out what
has been holding her back.””
Galina gave my mother an even harder stare
than the one she had given me before walking away
to make the rest of her assessments.
My shoulders eased, and I took a breath. Once
she had finished walking the room, she stood by the
door and said, “We are set to go on stage in five
minutes. Follow me.”
We fell into formation, dancers marching like
soldiers behind our merciless leader. But there was a
reason we all danced with Galina at Emerson
Dance instead of going to another studio in Brent‐
wood or even LA. She was the best—exactly what
we all wanted so desperately to be.
The closer we got to the stage, the better we
could hear fast-paced dance music. Through gaps
in the curtain, I watched beautiful dancers in stun‐
ning bejeweled costumes move their bodies in
unison. I quickly became transfixed on the dance,
on the beauty of the steps. My body hummed with
energy, with anticipation for my turn on stage.
“Dancers,” Galina said harshly. “For the last five
years, we’ve competed at Dance Dance Nationals.
Participated.” Her eyes fell on each of us, making
my skin feel cold. “No longer am I satisfied with
being second, or third or fourth best. This year, we
will win, and I will do whatever it takes to make sure
of it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” we all responded.
“Now. Remember your steps. Hold your chins
high. Your reputation is on the line, as is mine.”
The music on the stage faded to a close as the
dancers struck their final pose.
Over the speakers, an eager announcer said,
“Now, we welcome to the stage five-time Dance
Dance National competitors, Emerson Dance!”
“Go,” Galina ordered, although she didn’t
need to.
We each squared our shoulders and lifted our
chins before sashaying to our positions on the stage.
The harsh lights hit me, but even so, I could see the
people I loved in the audience. My mom, sitting
with her husband, Ted, and the rest of the studio
parents. Each of my four closest friends sitting in an
aisle all their own.
My heart lifted at the sight of them, giving me
just what I needed to take a steadying breath as the
music fell over us.
We’d practiced the routine so many times that
my body took over without needing my mind to
follow along. Suddenly, all my worries, the audience,
my insecurities about the costume and how it fit
faded away.
I moved through the steps, feeling the music just
as much as hearing it. The volume rose, and
Benjamin took my hand for our across-the-back
roll. My back steadied against his, and I cart‐
wheeled my legs through the air, just like Galina
taught. But there was one thing I hadn’t prepared
for: the loud rip as every seam popped in my pants.
My heart froze, and I fell off Benjamin’s back,
dropping onto the floor in a heap in front of Ruby.
She tripped over me and stumbled forward,
crashing into Alejandro, who hurtled to the ground
with a thud even louder than my own.
Although blood rushed to my eardrums and my
cheeks got hot, the music kept playing. My team‐
mates kept dancing.
And me? I felt a breeze.
I clenched the back of my split pants together and
ran off the stage as fast as I could. Tears blurred my
vision as I sprinted away from the music, away from
the stage and toward the safety of the dressing room.
Except it wasn’t as safe as I thought.
Only moments after I walked through the door
and ripped my shimmering pants the rest of the
way off, the door was opening again, my mom and
Galina rushing in.
A million Russian swear words were flying
through Galina’s mouth until she was only inches
away from my face, her lips curled back like a dog
ready to bite.
“You ruined me, you fat pig!” she hurled, each
of her words landing like fists on my face.
“I’m sorry!” I cried, shimmying my sweatpants
the rest of the way up. “I promise the couples’
routine will be better!” I was scrambling, grasping
for anything that would make this moment any less
painful than it was. Because right now, it felt like a
knife was ripping through my chest.
I’d never had a mistake like that in a routine
before. Sure, I might have missed a step or stum‐
bled, but I’d never caught other dancers in the
crossfire. Never been exposed on stage.
My mom stood behind Galina, frozen, like even
she didn’t know how to operate in this new world
where something so horrible could happen.
“Couples’ routine?” Galina spat. “There will be
no couples’ routine!”
“What do you mean?” I stammered.
Galina rose to her full height, her shoulders
squaring, her mouth set in a snarl. “You will never
dance with my studio again.”
My mom sprang into action then, stepping
forward and taking Galina’s shoulder. “You can’t
mean that! It was an honest mistake. If you hadn’t
insisted on ordering uniforms that didn’t fit her—”
“Do not blame me for her lack of willpower!
She has had every chance to lose the weight and has
chosen not to.” Galina’s coal-black eyes consumed
me with self-loathing. With guilt. “You chose food
over your future, and now you will have to live with
that for the rest of your life.”
My mouth fell open in a silent sob. “Galina, no,
you can’t do this!”
Mom’s voice wavered right along with mine.
“Do you have any idea how many hours she’s put
in? The dieticians we’ve worked with? We even have
a doctor’s appointment on Monday! If more money
is what it takes, we’ve got it. What do you need?”
The door opened behind us, and the other
dancers, my former teammates, began walking
cautiously into the room.
Galina gave them half a glance before turning
all the hatred in her gaze on me. “Leave, Adriel.
And don’t ever darken my studio doors again. Your
dancing days are over.”
