If I had to say, Sophia started changing towards the end of middle school. Before then, and especially before boyfriends, we were in and out of each others houses every day after school. Or at least, most days when we weren't practicing at her aunt's dance studio. Her younger cousin liked to follow along with us. Sophia told me she was a real pain but it never bothered me. Maybe because Inés like to read almost as much as me.

It was really sad what happened to her. Their families were on holidays together in the mountain and Inés wandered off. She was missing for three days before the found her, or what was left of her. It was pretty gross.

I told Sophia how sorry I was but she just brushed it off, like it had happened to a stranger and not the girl who tagged along with us. I wanted to do something for a memorial but she said, "I don't know why you care about that whiney little brat anyway."

When I asked my mom about it, she said sometimes people hide their sadness and guilt with anger and I should just give Sophia time. So, I tried not to let it bother me but it seemed like Sophia was truly glad Inés was gone. She certainly wasn't kind about her aunt closing the dance studio since neither of our families could afford the same number of classes without the family discount we had been getting.

Then Manuel came on scene. He was a couple of years older than us and used to bring his sister to ballet class. He would wait in the coffee shop across from the new studio to walk her back home. She complained it made her look like a baby but he ignored her indignation. Sophia took notice of the book he was working from and elbowed me.

"Offer to tutor him in French. Tell him we can practice our conversational skills together." Sophia pushed me into him.

"Excusez-moi," I said automatically. He stared blankly for a moment then waived his hand to send me on my way. "You could have at least said, pas de problem or ce ne'st pas grave." I turned on my heels and walked away.

"Wait. You speak French?" he reached out to stop me leaving.

"Of course, she does. Total brainiac." Sophia interjected. "If you ask nicely, we can both help."

I watched in shock as she turned into a total flirt, all giggles and accidental touches, and Manuel lapped up the attention. Within a week they were hanging off each other at every opportunity and I became the third wheel. I was a good enough friend to cover for her when she went out on dates. I was a better friend for not letting her copy my homework, even if she told me I was being stingy.

Anyways, it was kind of strange how her dad got this weird sort of anemia and then Manuel's sister got it too and had to stop coming to dance. That's when Sophia started skipping classes and almost got cut from the year-end performance. I don't know what kind of fast talking she did to get back on stage but she couldn't hide being relegated to the back row and I got a solo instead of us doing a duet as usual.

Her Mom was livid when the instructor explained why. Manuel standing there in a suit holding a bouquet of roses became the target of her anger. I also got my fair share of blame for helping Sophia hide what had been going on. Her grounding included losing her phone and having her computer use monitored so we kind of lost touch when I was sent to my Grandmama's for the school break.

Spending the summer on the small farm in the south of France kept me pretty isolated so it wasn't until the third bizarre attack made international headlines I heard the news from home. All the after-hours clubs were being shut down and ride-sharing services were being closely monitored. These precautions did not stop another young couple from getting butchered in a public square.

It was the first time I ever saw my Mom and Dad get into a serious fight. We were having a family meeting online. Mom explained how she had the academic connections, and Grampa was more than willing to cover the costs, for me and my brother Enrique switching to a lycée. But it turned out our Uncle Luis was the lead detective in the case.

"What would people think if they found out we didn't trust him to keep our children safe?" Dad asked as he adjusted the camera and nearly lost the signal.

"What makes you think he can keep them safe?" Mom shouted at her tablet and moved it up for a close-up of her frown. That's when I bailed. I would rather go to school closer to home and not have to audition for another dance troupe but they knew that already. Enrique stayed to defend himself from having to switch schools going into his senior year.

He found me in the barn and reported the deal struck in my absence. We would have a professional driver to get us to school and any approved extra-curricular activities. There would be no clubbing, parties or unscheduled gatherings with our friends, not even coffee-shop dates.

"Uncle Luis just better catch the killer before the Christmas dance. I'm not missing out on my first formal," I said.

"Way to keep things in perspective, squirt," Enrique teased and we ended up in a mock battle. Grandmama was scandalized by the mess we made of our cloths but Grandpapa laughingly told a story about one of our mother's favorite hiding places and the trail of soot she inevitably left after climbing the cinder pile. He coaxed a smile from her then urged her to head home ahead of us to make the agreed arrangements. The day after she left, he had a veteran who worked in his vineyard come drill us on our self-defense moves. They both repeated the safest course was to avoid situations where we might need these skills. I just wish they could have helped prepare me for the verbal attacks I faced the first week of school.

Our family was not the only one to have booked a car and driver and the resulting traffic jam had everyone running late. It really didn't help ours was one of the more ostentatious vehicles and Grandpapa even hired an extra guard. Enrique's friends whistled and asked him which bank he had robbed. He laughed and joined them on the far step. I looked around for a familiar face but caught a sour look from Sophia who turned away to join a group of girls we used to joke about.

When I caught up with her in our home room she asked, "What's with the hearse? Did your Dad finally sell one of his hideous sculptures?"

"My grandparents were worried," I shrugged. I couldn't help noticing how pale Sophia looked and asked her how her summer went.

"Well at least I didn't come back looking like field hand. Haven't you ever heard of sunscreen? You also must have pigged out on the pastries how are you going squeeze into your dance tights? You're going to look like a plump sausage."

I could only stare. We never made comments like that, not even to our worst enemies. Her attitude gave the other girls permission to pile on, and by the end of the day they had re-christened me "Wee-wee" and kept telling me to "run away home." I had never been so grateful for my advanced classes keeping me out of range of most of Sophia's swarm. As the term went on, I couldn't help thinking of them as the kind of late-season wasps who would sting and bite anyone foolish enough to get close.

There was only one more of the brutal attacks just after the term had started. Uncle Luis said he hoped the culprit had moved on but he wasn't counting on it. When the New Year passed without more incidents the city lifted the curfew. Our parents also lightened up. Relinquishing the car and driver in mid-February and letting us go to approved off-campus activities, provided we travelled in a group. Enrique chaffed at these restrictions, only partly mollified by being granted exclusive use of our Dad's car.

I hadn't planned on auditioning for the intensive classes for the special joint performance with a semi-professional troupe but my instructors insisted. When Sophia was also selected, my mother told me she hoped this common experience would help us renew our friendship.

"Don't count on it," I said stuffing my bag for the short-term move to the dorms. "Remember we are competing for parts." I couldn't tell her even half of the rest or she might not let me go at all. Unfortunately, she and Sophia's mom had gotten together to ask we share a room. When we got to the dorms Sophia immediately went looking for a re-assignment but was told professionals learn to get along. She came storming back and pushed the furniture around to wall off her side of the room. I pinned up some scarves to cover the remaining opening and dug out my noise-cancelling headphones.

The late spring had been overwhelmed by the summer's first heatwave and even the largest fans in the dance studio could not stop the edges of the mirrors fogging up. I patted my neck and wrists down with a cool cloth and took a small sip of water. The blisters from my pointe shoes were getting worse and I hoped new gel pads might make them last the rest of the session. There was no way my parents would spring for yet another pair, not with dad's medical expenses. I pushed my worries and tidied up the curls escaping from my bun.

I nearly crashed into Sophia at the door to the studio when I spotted the guitarists settling in beside the battered piano. A thin man dressed in black stood beside the dance mistress. His piercing glance made me even more self-conscious. Señora Vente pursed her lips and arched one eyebrow as we dashed into place in the back.

"Students, welcome Profesor Salvadore. He is choreographing our production of Scheherazade and will now lead this class through the key harem sequences." She paused to let the announcement sink in, adding, "He will also be selecting students to audition for principal roles."

Sophia beamed with confidence and nodded. I could only dread the outcome. If she got a main part instead of me, she would be constantly lording it over me, if we both got a part it would be extra practices together, and I couldn't imagine how mean she could be if I got in, instead of her. As the sound of gyspy guitars filled the studio, I hoped Sophia forgive the advantage this gave me.

Enrique had pounded these rhythms through the floor of our apartment until the neighbors rebelled.

The first test for the class was to walk and clap in time to the music. It would have been easy, except the guitarists started switching up the lead and rhythm parts, and rolling into different tunes. The Profesor used his boot heel to add a double time percussion and the Señora called for the partner work we had been learning. Sophia seemed to struggle until I whispered, "this feels like a tango," and counted for a couple of bars. She frowned at my suggestion but soon caught the flow.

"Separate, first and third lines, face second and fourth, now switch partners." The instruction created confusion before we got back into the rhythm. A new song and another switch move me closer to the front. I could feel the dark eyes of the Profesor following me but practiced my calm face and mid-distance stare. The only rest we got came from waiting in line to run a diagonal series of jumps and spins. My grande jete was probably not the best but I had good control with my spotting. The guitarists switched into double-time when I was half-way through my second run but I stuck to the original counts. Señora Vente acknowledged my final run with a tight nod. Sophia and I were both asked to stay after class with a couple of other girls.

"You aren't giving me much to work with," Profesor Salvadore complained. "Who will believe the brother's jealousy and the Shah's possessiveness over some frigid little virgin? They obviously know their classic forms but we need much more freedom and seduction."

Sophia smirked at this comment and jabbed me in the ribs. I blushed and ducked behind other girls to avoid the appraising stares from the teachers and musicians alike. The dance mistress looked down her nose then turned to her guest.

"Nonsense. It is all acting. They will be ready." She answered his doubting look, saying, "I agree we might do with a less classical emphasis, at least for these contenders. Ladies, you are dismissed for now but make sure to pick up your new schedule from the office before you leave tonight."

We were late getting to lunch and I could see the other girls whispering about us. Sophia waltzed by me to join a table of senior girls. I found a quiet corner and tried to choke down my food. After lunch I phone Enrique with my news.

"Well done, kiddo," he said.

"But Sophia," I started in.

"Is not someone you need to worry about. Just think about the cool things you will be learning. I'm kind of jealous. You get to dance and I get to go to cram-school and practice verb tenses" He chuckled.

"Yeah, well. If you are aiming for a scholarship to a foreign school." I reminded him it was his choice.

"I'm coming to pick you up tonight. We can have some tapas in the market, maybe catch and early show. What do you say?"

I hesitated for a moment but gave into the temptation to avoid hearing my roommate's take on the day and said, "As long as we are back before curfew."

The sun was setting when Enrique showed up to lead me through the narrow cobblestone streets until we could follow the riverside to the edge of the market. The patio tables were all crowded with a mix of students and tourists. Different languages competed to be heard over music piping in from opposite corners. Enrique led the way through to a free spot at the corner of a bar and snagged a couple of plates from a passing waiter. He made sure I finished my tasters before moving us along to another place. We wound up in a cozy bar where he pressed me with some small cakes to go with the fruit plate I was picking at.

"You remember Mom's condition. She made the school promise," he looked me up and down with concern.

"Of course, I remember. They make me weigh-in at the beginning of each week. Like that's helpful." I pushed my plate away.

Enrique shoved it right back saying, "Humor me." Our brewing fight was interrupted by the musicians filing in along the edge of a small dance floor. I pulled out my phone to check the time.

"One set. We have time for one set." Enrique pleaded.

I reluctantly agreed when I thought I recognized one of the guitarists from the studio. His ring and little finger on his left hand had been cut off at the first knuckle so he used distinctive cord patterns. He spotted my gaze and grinned so I nodded back. Enrique was too engrossed in the dance performance to notice our exchange but the group's female singer raised an eyebrow.

A young man with a dark completion and startlingly fair hair took the stage. His sweeping hand gestures invited attention, wrapping them into the story of the music he punctuated with rapid footwork. As the piece went on the band challenged him with shifting rhythms but he took charge of the conversation, all the while flashing intense looks at the women in the audience. It wasn't flirting as much as demanding attention, or maybe even a surrender. He kept the same command of the space when his female partner joined him and the audience added more claps and calls.

This close to the small stage I could see how rapidly both dancers were breathing at the end of their set. The stage lights caught the sweat glistening on the young man's chest under the plunging neckline of his loose white shirt. He caught my glance and grinned with a touch of cynicism while Enrique tugged me up to join the ovations.

"So, you approve of our golden boy," a smooth voice snaked from behind me. I spun around to find Profesor Savadore looking me up and down. "Come back-stage on the interval," he directed then stepped forward on cue.

I did not know what to expect from the choreographer's performance but he delivered a master-class in controlling the audience's emotions. The anger and despair of the long hard-times in their country spun into pride and resilience. Enrique reached across the table and squeezed my hand. When the performers filed off-stage at the end of the first set, I started gathered up my things.

"Please sister. Stay at auntie's tonight." Enrique pleaded.

"By now I will have to, but right now we are going to the dressing rooms," I led him through the crowd moving toward the bar. The guitarist was waiting in the passage beside the kitchens. "El Profesor?" I asked and was pointed in the right direction. The cramped room the performers all shared with in a state of chaos. It smelled of sweat, make-up, rust, and burnt-oranges. Cloths were being tossed back and forth over the screens in the corners on the left-side of the room while musicians re-tuned their instruments on the right-side. The professor and a senior female dancer held court in the middle of the room. The statuesque woman waived us over.

"Points for interest and ingenuity," the Profesor said taking my hand. Before planting a light kiss on the back of my hand, he turned up my wrist and took a light breath. His cool touch made me shiver and I pulled back.

"No points. My brother brought me. He is a student, and a fan." I stuttered and pulled Enrique forward. "He is not usually so shy." I had to poke his ribs to break the spell that had him frozen.

Enrique choked out his compliments and gratitude for this chance to meet in person. "I don't think Carolina knows what an honor it is, Sir." Enrique added.

"It is truly a shame we will have lost our table by now." I picked up my pack, ready to exit.

"That won't do, not at all," the female dancer said and clapped her hands twice. "Get changed and sit behind the band. We know you can keep time."

The female members of the troupe swarmed over and pulled me behind one of the screens pushing me into a flowing dress with a tight bodice. Then they set me in front of a mirror surrounded with lights and went to work on my hair and make-up. The finishing touches included weaving flowers into my low braided bun and teasing a few curls out to frame my face. When they finished, I barely recognized the doe-eye stranger staring back from the mirror.

Enrique's transformation went much faster. He only needed to add a cummerbund and a low, wide-brimmed hat to his all-black outfit. The masquerade returned his confidence and he moved into place with a natural grace. He did a complete double-take then whipped out his phone to take a picture when I emerged.

"You're the spitting image of Aunt Isabella. She won't believe me without this." He said with an apologetic shrug.

"While you're at it can you please text Sophia to let her know I am staying over with you tonight. I don't want her worrying."

He nodded and when he looked up to see the kind of attention my arrival attracted, he positioned himself to block me from the stares. The professor gave Enrique an approving nod before signaling the musicians to get ready.

The second set offered up more upbeat and romantic themes as younger pairs took their turns. The fair-haired star started a dance duel with an older rival all the while challenging the band to keep up. Enrique stared, obviously enthralled, so I leaned forward and whispered, "Stop drooling."

"Rudeness," he muttered back, but was distracted by the group of men in flashy cloths filling up a reserved table on the edge of the dance floor. The female dancers all seemed drawn to the new group, abruptly dropping their pretense of flirting with middle-aged tourists. The guitarist beside me frowned and muttered something rude under his breath. The bandleader was equally unimpressed by the note the group had passed to him.

The senior female dancer relieved him of the paper, and made the expected announcement, "Please join us in welcoming the heroes of La Maestranza, and especially the matadors who earned the right to exit through the prince's gate this week."

Three of the men stood up and bowed several times. They swayed from an abundance of drink and had to be pulled back into their chairs. Their miss-timed stomps and claps detracted from the dances in the final set. Even the profesor's striking performance did not quell their rowdiness.

At the end of the show the band formed up around me and Enrique to keep the either the club owner or the more impetuous guests from spotting us. The changing room had been made even more cramped by the numerous bouquets delivered throughout the evening. A line of would-be suitors, with more floral tributes in hand, formed up in the alley by the stage door.

The band leader scouted the situation and came back to report, "We are all expected to go clubbing with the Toreadors."

"Not acceptable." The professor said curtly. "Juan, take our young guest home in my car. You will have to sneak them through the front of the house."

When I emerged from behind the screen in my street cloths the professor shook his head. The fair-haired star of the show handed over a ball cap and a hoodie.

"Give these back tomorrow," he said.

"Umm. Sure. Thanks." I blushed. The male dancer's scent enveloped me as I pulled the hoodie down over my head. The mix of citrus, spice, and sweat made me uncomfortably aware of my own skin.

"You okay sis?" Enrique asked as he put a hand on my shoulder to direct me through the crowded room. I gave him the briefest nod as we hurried after Juan. All the clubs were emptying at the same time, crowding the street, and making it hard to get through. The bull fighters were suddenly in front of us blocking the gate where the black Mercedes waited.

"Leaving so soon? Why aren't you going to share?" One of the men leaned in and smacked his lips.

"Back-off. They are guests of our queen," Juan said firmly.

"Ewwe, the old queen, eh. Buzz, buzz, everything for your hive." Another man jostled into the group.

Three of dance troupe appeared out of the dark, the woman just as imposing as the men. "Control yourselves," she commanded and the others drifted away. She climbed into the car with us and managed to sneak me back into the dorm without incident.

Sophia did not creep back in until the sun was rising. I didn't say anything but couldn't help feeling bad when I overheard the girls the regular troupe making jokes about how the Shah and his brother did not wait to for their parts to be confirmed before working their way through a harem of newbies.

"Those girls are going to be so disappointed when the golden boy gets chosen." The tallest girl made a dramatic pose.

"Not that he would be interested," the girl on the right said.

"Who knows. Boy or girl, fresh meat is fresh meat," the other one said and the others quickly shushed when the instructor re-arranged the stations at the barre, placing me and Sophia in the middle of their ranks.

Our pointe class had been replaced with partner work with the prospective male leads. I watched as Sophia flirted with one of the young men. He had an air of casual possessiveness about her but sized up his other prospects when she wasn't looking. The instructor called them out for breaking frame more than once.

Half-way through the class the Profesor arrived with the star of the previous night's show. The seniors seemed to know Antonio, at least by reputation, and were all very respectful. It was a bit embarrassing to watch the obvious way Sophia tried to make her performance look sexier. I thought she had missed the point of the class, if not the whole story of the ballet, but just concentrated on myself. I focused on strong, clean moves to make the lifts easier. Antonio acknowledged me with a slight nod at the end of class.

I thought I had managed to sneak his folded hoodie and hat onto a stool without anyone noticing but one of the senior girls sidled up to me and said, "Oh, aren't you a dark horse."

"It's not like that," I blurted.

"Like what?" Sophia asked sharply.

One of the other girls leaned in, sniffed my hair, and stood back. "She's been claimed. I don't think it will change the casting but she is definitely off limits now."

Sophia's eyes narrowed, and glowed red. "No, she was mine first," she said.

I couldn't help it. I burst our laughing. "Yours? We haven't been friends in like ages."

"My livestock," Sophia hissed, baring her teeth.

Before I could even blink, Antonio was standing between us. "No, she is our princess and you will yield."

Sophia launched herself at him but was grabbed by the other girls who then hustled her away with dire warning about drawing too much attention. I slid down the wall and put my head between my knees. The familiar scented fleece draped over me and I started to shiver. I shouldn't have felt safe with him, not when his fangs were still showing, but he kept me out of view until I could collect myself.

"The attacks?" I whispered.

"Symptoms of a newly turned being left unsupervised." He did not need to say more. I could tell by his tone there would be punishments.

"I'm?" I didn't know what to ask about what had just happened.

"Safe with us. Our family's connection run through the ages. You have plenty of time to learn and grow." The Profesor said as Antonio helped me to my feet.

I was still a bit out of it and managed to come down wrong and sprain my ankle in the afternoon class. Antonio accompanied me to the hospital for x-rays and took me home in a limo. My mother was not at all pleased, warning me over and over about what older men might expect. She confiscated my phone and limited my social media access so I didn't hear many of the details about the fire at the dress-rehearsal. I just knew Sophia and most of her swarm were gone and Uncle Louis had closed the cases.

I watched for signs Enrique knew what had happened that night at the club but he gave me no clues to go on. Or at least until he was headed to the airport to go to university in the states. He leaned in after our farewell hug, whispering, "Take care, princess honeybee."