Broken Wings (An Angel Eyes Novel) Read Free Page A

little dancers, all fidgeting and waving at the crowd. I take my place at stage right. Miss Macy takes stage left. Feedback screams through the speakers as Kaylee turns on her microphone.
    “Sorry, sorry,” she says. “Again, I can’t thank you all enough for coming. So many of you helped get this place open again. You donated your time to teach workshops. You helped sandbag the place when the rains got to be too much. And then, when it looked like safety concerns were going to shut us down, Miss Holt stepped in and kept the dream alive.”
    The room fills with applause. Olivia smiles and waves it off.
    Is her arm looped through Dad’s?
    “Seriously, Miss Holt, it’s been a ride and a half, but we couldn’t have done it without you, without the foundation. Please pass our thank-yous on to the board.” Kaylee takes a sip of water, spilling half of it down her shirtfront. “So, behind me, right? What’s all this dancing about? Well! Miss Macy’s Dance Studio has agreed to offer a few classes here at the center free of charge.” She pauses. “You should totally be clapping right now. Miss Macy’s is one of the premier”—air quotes around premier —“dance studios in Oregon. She suggested that an introductory class here at the center would allow more of our kids to participate in the arts. You’re clapping, right? Yes? Clapping?”
    The crowd obeys, bursting into rambunctious applause yet again. I shake my head in amazement. Standing here on the stage, watching Kaylee in her element, I find Miss Holt is not the only one impressed by my friend. The girl may be clumsy, but she’s great at rallying people.
    “Miss Macy has brought one of her classes here to show you what they can do. After the performance, please take a minute to visit the other art rooms to see all that your support has made possible. Thank you, thank you for coming.”
    Feedback screeches through the speakers yet again before the microphone can be silenced. After an agonizingly long pause,the “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” begins. The room fills with oohs and ahhs as our little ladies sashay right and left, adding a spin here and there as whim would have it. Miss Macy and I do our best to keep our dancers onstage—a task far more exhausting than my own performance earlier but equally as rewarding.
    When at last the song is over and the parents collect their children, I grab my bag and slip into the restroom. I trade my leotard, tights, and skirt for jean shorts and a green flouncy top. Then I hop on the counter and pull my duffel bag onto my lap. I dig around until I find the halo. It’s near the bottom, tucked inside a legwarmer, warm and waiting.
    I slip it onto my wrist and pull a light sweater over it. It’s warm out, and the halo’s sure to make me warmer, but Dad gives me grief every time he sees it.
    “High school boys don’t give their girlfriends gold bracelets, Elle.”
    “Sure they do.”
    “Not bracelets like that, kiddo.”
    I had no response to that.
    My skin soaks up the halo’s presence, and I lean against the mirror. Today was a good day. A very good day.
    So why do I feel like I’ve been socked in the stomach?
    Someone knocks on the door, and I jump.
    “Coming. Sorry.” I slide off the counter and twist the doorknob. “Sorry, I was—” The door swings open, Olivia Holt on the other side. “I was changing.”
    All at once, I know exactly why I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.
    “Not a problem,” she says. I step out of her way and into the hall. “A girl without a wardrobe change could never be the belle of the ball, right?”
    She tilts her head at me, scrutinizing me from beneath those long—probably fake—lashes.
    “Your dad, Keith . . .”
    “I know my dad’s name.”
    “Of course. He tells me you’re multitalented. Modeling, right? And some acting.”
    I heft my bag higher on my shoulder. “Not so much anymore.”
    She taps her teeth with a red fingernail. “Shame. The