༺ FOUR ༻

"Hi!" I sit down next to some girls of ballet, again, hoping to make some friends before Teresa leaves. "Weird question, maybe... but all the people that know Mr. Janson have told me he's untrustworthy, an ass, and a bad teacher."

Practice is almost over. Janson is just checking something in another room, I think about the male ballet dancers for The Nutcracker. A few minutes ago, I gladly received some compliments. But he's not too clingy about them. Just 'good' or 'nice', and he's not bugging so I don't see any problems.

"So I was wondering," I continue, "if he's really that bad and untrustworthy. He seems great so far."

One girl smiles. "He's awesome."

My face lits up. "Really? Alright. Thank you."

"He's the best," another one says, her smile overly bright and again, she focuses on the 'best'.

"And it's nice to see you're growing a real..." She looks at her friends and chuckles before looking back at me. "...bond with him."

I nod. "Okay. Thanks! Two of the people who have told me he's bad don't even know him, so I already thought it was a lie. I'm not sure why they would say all that if it's not true." My smile stays on my lips. "Y'all dance nice, by the way. It looks perfect."

They laugh at me, and I keep smiling back. Maybe I can make friends.

"What brands are your tights?" I ask.

"Mike Lit," one replies.

My eyebrows scrunch, and so does my nose. "I've never heard of that brand before. Is it good?"

She smiles a weird smile. "It's awesome, Rosalind. I'd totally get them if I was you. Ask your parents."

"My parents don't pay for most of my stuff." I run a hand down my face. "But thanks for the suggestion anyway."

After a giggle attack, another girl speaks. "I've got them from Rhoda Lott."

"Rhoda Lott..." I repeat the words with the frown, and her smile brightens. Another girl makes a weird sound, and I see her eyes become glossy as her lips twitch. "Woah, are you alright? In pain?"

She squirms even more.

My worry increases. I don't know how to fix a heart attack or seizure or whatever is going on! "Do I need to ask Janson for help?"

"I think so," the girl next to her agrees. "Go, fast!"

With a nod, I get up and start making my way to the door as the girls encourage me to move faster.

Just then, Teresa appears in front of me. "Don't."

The panic almost starts overflowing. "But sometimes is happening to her and I—"

"She's laughing," Teresa corrects. "And trying to hold it back which makes her squirm." She lies her hand down on my lower back and leads me to the back of the room. "Don't believe any of the words they just said."

"What do you mean?" Without control, I feel my bottom lip move forward and I hate myself for it. "They were being nice and I think I made some more friends! And they proved everyone wrong by saying Janson—"

"They're fooling you." She sits me down as I get more confused by the second. "Mike Lit, seriously? Rose, think!"

I do think. "Well, I don't know the brand if that's what you mean."

She groans. "You're either dumb or very innocent. Just... don't hang out with them."

"Did they hurt you?" The furrow in my eyebrow increases. It's a habit I gained from Newt. "Are you alright? You—"

She groans another time. "I'm fine. They're nice to me."

"And to me—"

"They're not," she confirms. "They wanna set you up. Make you the teacher's pet."

I glare at the laughing girls. "Why would they want to do that? Did I do something wrong?"

"Just try not to smile every time Rat Man gives you a compliment. It makes you seem like a teacher's pet."

"But compliments—"

She buries her head in my shoulder. "You're too gullible and clueless."

"You've mistaken me for my brother."

"Maybe you're more like him than you think." Teresa lies her hand on my knee. "Just try to be... less gullible."

I look down in shame, and also hurt because I did really think those girls wanted to be friends. "Why're you leaving this place?"

"It's too controlling and I don't enjoy being around the other girls. Ballet might not be for me after all," she summarizes.

❤︎︎

"How was ballet?" Mom asks after Sonya enthusiastically told about school and Newt about his studies.

I shrug. "Fine. I danced well."

"Fine," Dad repeats.

"Please talk about it," Newt's voice. "I didn't mean for this to happen after my outburst! Rose, you can talk about it all you want. I enjoy listening to it—"

"There's nothing to talk about."

A silence falls. Dad's chair screeches over the floor and I hear Sonya prick her fork in her food. "Alright," Mom says. "Tell us what happened. We're not dumb and it's okay if it didn't go perfect for once, Rosa."

It takes everything for me to not start crying. "Just some girls that we're being stupid. I won't talk to them again."

"I'll beat them up until they're—"

"Sonya, you can't beat women up," Newt says.

"They hurt Rose! I'll poison them."

"Are you okay?"

"Love, do we need to call anyone? We can make it up or speak to—"

"I'm not a baby." The words come out harsher than I intended. "I don't need you to call anyone. But thanks, Dad. And Sonya. And Mom... and Newt for speaking about women's rights."

My mom wraps an arm around me from beside. I smell her flowery cologne and feel her brown, long hair tickle against my neck at the gesture. "I know it's hard to move to another continent. But you'll get used to it, eventually."

"Thanks," I murmur, doing my best to smile. "Thomas recommended some jobs. He works at a restaurant. And he's nice so I think I'll check the restaurant out. I'll already know someone there, and he can teach me some things."

❤︎︎

The next day, after ballet class in which Janson explained how they were gonna choose roles for the play, I arrive at the restaurant Thomas told me to go to.

When I'm there, I'm immediately greeted by the warm lights, hot temperature, happy chatters in the air, and a good smell of food.

Sonya already asked if we could get free food once I get a job here, and I told her I hope we do.

"Rose!" He sees me a few seconds after I enter. I'm still looking around as Thomas walks closer, a tray with empty glasses balancing on his hand. "How're you?"

"Great," I tell him. It's not a lie, but it comes out a bit hesitant. "And you? It looks good here."

"Sure does. And yeah, I'm good."

He's wearing a black polo with the casual server apron, and the name of the restaurant on it: Mamma Mia... yup.

"Okay, come on. People want to enter." Suddenly, his hand is touching the small of my back to lead me around and I try to ignore how it feels like his whole hand is burning through my skin and the feeling I get at that.

"Here's the kitchen. With our boss. Luca!" He gives a rather stocky man with a giant mustache one of these brother hugs.

"Rose, Luca is the best chef in town!" Thomas turns back to me, his hand on Luca's shoulder as he beams. "Oui, I mean— Sì, fantastico! He won't disappoint!"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Thomas." The man speaks with a heavy accent, then smiles at me. "Name's Luca, and yours is? Rose?"

"Rosetta! Straight from Ital—"

Luca presses a hand in Thomas's face and pushes him away. "I asked her."

"It's Rosalind, but you can call me Rose," I reply, the biggest smile on my face. Mostly because of the way Thomas acts.

"Okay." Thomas jumps in again. "So this bella girl needs to make some money so she can get the nails done and look pretty and everything. She might be a master cook, Luca. Don't let it slide."

Bella girl. My smile gets even brighter. "He's right, sir. I'm looking for a job and Thomas said you maybe had a free place for me. I can was the dishes, serve, or maybe—"

"Dance through the people," Thomas interrupts.

"You're a dancer?"

"Yeah. But that has nothing to do with this." I laugh awkwardly. "Thomas indeed is getting a bit ahead of himself. Careful, boy. I might be a disappointment."

"Well, I haven't got much to say. Just gotta speak about your salary. As a dancer, I expect you to be able to serve. Tommaso might have to teach you how to not drop all the glasses like he did in the beginning, but I'll believe you're a serious worker."

"Really?" I make a jump in the air. "Thank you, thank you! You're awesome. Both of you."

"Careful, Rosetta." Thomas tilts his head. "You might get ahead of yourself."

I smile at him. Then, I pull a face. "Not Rosetta."

He scoffs as he takes new glasses onto his tray. When he passes, he softly pulls one strand of my hair. "Blondie." And continues walking.

I ignore the feeling in my stomach. "Rude!" I tell him before he completely disappears.

"Got important jobs to do, currently immune to blondies!" He yells back, exactly when he hands a blonde woman her drink. "Not you, ma'am. And even if you weren't an exception, it's nothing personal. Your blonde hair is bella. Magnifico!"

I shake my head, but the smile stays glued on my lips.