"Miss Venditti, please focus."
Her eyes snapped back to Ms. Blanchet, who held a look of silent frustration on her poker face; as far as Gia could tell, she had never smiled or even frowned, but her tone held her emotions.
To be sincere, Gia was a little terrified of her, especially since she had made it a habit to be distracted from her class to stare at Jane, who was red-faced and practicing the pirouettes Ms. Blanchet had ordered.
She was never alone climbing up the stairs to the studio; she always had Jane next to her, excited and still complaining about how harsh Ms. Blanchet was, and though it had been just a week, with them beginning lessons the day after Jane came back, Jane had wowed her and perfected the art.
Ms. Blanchet was saying, "Your Italian fouetté has gotten rusty; we're going to perfect it before I let you off."
Let her off to Paris, two weeks away from now.
"Hips up, Miss Venditti."
And she did, making the difficult turn and feeling the stress on her bones and musc
