POV Akhyra 

Someone had the terrible idea of making a sing-off of old bangers from the 70s, and now we all have to suffer through an off-key rendition of "I Will Survive." 

Many of the girls in the room are joining in support of the poor ballerina who's straining her vocal chords on the notes, and I blame the alcohol in my veins for joining the chaotic chorus. I can't deny that it's quite liberating to scream about an ex walking out the door because they're not welcome anymore. My girl Gloria Gaynor made a song that transcends generations. 

The amount of estrogen in the room is at its paroxysm. Valentino is the only man here in a sea of sixteen women in various stages of inebriation. Hannah is yelling the lyrics at him as if they're on the verge of a break-up but they're holding onto each other with a grin splitting their face and it's so adorable that I have to look away because my eyes are watering and I miss him but fuck him. 

Somewhere around midnight when the euphoria dies down and we're all gathered in the living room for a Twilight marathon I venture in the kitchen to refill two large bowls with the variety of chips that I had bought in anticipation of tonight. Most of the shopping bags are now empty, and both the kitchen island and the table are covered under layers upon layers of empty snack packages, piles of pizza boxes, and beer cans.

The bin is already full, so I open a cabinet to pick a big plastic bag to start tossing the trash inside.

"Need some help?" A voice asks behind me. I turn around to find Brittany standing awkwardly with her cheeks flush and her auburn hair in disarray.  

It's a safe bet to say that she might be more than just a little tipsy.

"Sure."

We clean in silence and then wash our hands at the sink before moving on to the remaining snacks. I slide one of the bowls toward Brittany and hand her two family slize packs of Doritos and Cheetos. As she begins to pour the chips down, I can tell that she's trying to build up the courage to speak. 

"Are you having a good time?" I decide to engage in conversation to make it easy if she has something to say.

"I am. I can't remember the last time I had so much fun. You know how it is. Our lives are basically rehearsals, gym, and physical therapy."

"You forgot the constant struggle to reach our quota of lean proteins and carbohydrates," I remind her, and she laughs. 

"I apologize for how I treated you when we were at the academy," Brittany blurts out. "I realize now that my behavior back then was horrible, and even though it won't erase the things I did, I still thought you deserved an apology."

"Just so we're clear, is this you admitting that you were one of the girls who pushed me off the stage?"

"I was one of them," she confirms. "If it makes you feel better, the other two girls ended up quitting ballet. One of them suffered a rupture of her Achilles tendon, and the other stopped getting hired due to substance abuse."

I set my bowl aside to look at Brittany straight in the eyes because I need my point to hit home. 

"I want you to understand that having their own misfortunes to deal with will never alleviate the pain that the three of you caused. Did you know that for years after you pushed me off that stage, I couldn't walk close to anyone except for my bodyguard? I was already afraid of contact, but this made it worse. I was constantly on edge, scared that someone might jump out of nowhere to attack me. It has been exhausting."

In the silence that follows my rant, Brittany keeps her eyes on me as if she's seeing me for the first time. There are a lot of conflicted emotions on her face, and even though I don't know her well enough to decipher them all, I can still recognize remorse when I see it. 

"I'm aware that nothing I say will undo the damage that the three of us have inflicted, but I promise you that I understand how my behavior toward you was both physically and mentally harmful but also racist. You didn't deserve that treatment. Nobody does."

I let that sit there for a moment. I never thought I would see the day when Brittany took accountability for her wrongdoings.

I try to analyze the way I'm feeling before deciding to leave that for the therapist's office. I'm not sober enough. But I do appreciate that she apologized even after all these years.  

"Thank you for recognizing what you did."

"Thank you for helping me even if you had every reason not to want to."

It's around three in the morning when I'm finally sprawled on my bed, completely spent from the night but still too high on the adrenaline of the party to be sleepy. 

Valentino and Hannah are the only ones who stayed after everyone left because I asked. I didn't want to be alone with my thoughts. I knew they would all be about him. I refused to go through that for the second night in a row, but ironically, I ended up venting about what happened to both of them.

"He's a complete idiot," Valentino sneers from his place on the loveseat, where he's playing some zombie apocalypse game on his phone. 

His curly hair is a tousled mess, and his face is covered with various spots of Hannah's lipstick. She's lying next to me, her fingers playing with my hair. She hasn't stopped doing that since I told her I was fine with it. 

"That was pretty dumb of him," Hannah agrees with a hazy tone, testimony of the many drinks we'd had tonight. 

"Lucian must've convinced himself that he was protecting you, but that was a shitty move."

"I just needed him to trust me enough to go through this together," I whisper with my eyes lost on the ceiling. 

There's a bitterness in my throat that I'm trying to swallow down. I didn't cry last night, mostly out of pride, but the alcohol I've consumed tonight is trying to convince me that letting my emotions loose might do me a lot of good.

"So what's the plan?" Hannah asks, which makes me turn my head toward her. 

"The plan?"

"Well, to make him come crawling back, of course," she answers as if it was obvious. "I mean, there's no way he wouldn't come back on his decision, but you know men can be awfully dense sometimes. You have to remind them that they have an actual brain."

"Ouch," Valentino mutters.

"Not you, sweet bun, you're awesome."

I can't help laughing at the term of affection. "She calls you sweet bun?" 

Valentino raises his head with an amused look. "You called yours Aquaman, I really don't think you're in a position to judge."

"Back to the main topic," Hannah interjects. "We need a plan."

"I'm not doing this," I protest. "I don't want to see him or even breathe the same oxygen as him ever again."

"Not even if it's to get even?"

This interests me. 

"I'm gonna need you to elaborate."

"Look, you're the one who said that he hurt you, right? I don't think it's healthy for you to keep that bottled up. In fact, it might even be cathartic for you to make him experience a similar level of pain."

"Alright, I'm listening." 

"Yes! What I'm thinking is..." Hannah abruptly stops talking to call out to Valentino. "Baby, can you please step out? This is girls' talk."

He rises from his seat without tearing his eyes from the game. "Remind me to never piss you off," he says before leaving the room.

"Was that really necessary?" I ask amused.

"I can't have him knowing all my secret weapons in case he fucks up and I need to use some against him."

"Wow. Who would've thought that sweet little Hannah could be such a mastermind?"

She flicks her hair with a proud smirk. "You know what they say, it's always the innocent looking ones."

For the next few minutes I listen to wise Hannah as she devises a plan worthy of heartbreak revenge. 

***

The video titled: Ambrose Montgomery - A Predator Inside The Ballet Industry, reaches one million views on my YouTube channel within the first hour of posting it. 

On the group chat the girls keep sending updates on the group about people in the industry who shared the link to our video on their platform and even the AGMA posted an announcement to inform the public that there's an ongoing investigation on Ambrose Montgomery whose membership has been suspended. 

The other great news we receive on the group chat is Laurel texting us that Madame Laroche contacted her. 

💄The Badass Ballerinas🩰

Laurel is typing...

Laurel: Ladies, Madame Laroche called me! I thought it was a prank at first because I had no idea how she'd gotten my phone number.

Me: She's Madame Laroche.😉 I'm sure it wasn't that difficult for her.

Carmen: What did she say???👀

Laurel: We spent about half an hour talking about everything that happened and then at the end of our conversation she offered to assist me in any legal actions that I would want to take against Ambrose.

Carmen: THIS IS GREAT.

Brittany: He's FINISHED.💀

Me: I can hear him crying from here.😌

Laurel: There's something else girls... she offered me to audition for main lead in her retirement show!🥹

Me: YES!🤩 You're going to kill it!

Carmen: I'll be rooting for you!😍

Brittany: You'll get the role!!!🩰✨️

I also received a message from Lucian to show his support after seeing the video. I almost type an answer. Almost. Instead I block his number.

***

The annual fundraising gala organized by LuxeDrive Motors, one of the benefactors of the Haitian football team is the perfect occasion for me to execute the plan that Hannah concocted.

The Haitian owned car dealership hosts the event every year to sponsor the college tuition of a hundred Haitian teenagers from low-income families. 

Usually they'd only be auctioning things like vintage cars or vacation houses near the beach but this year due to the increasing success and popularity of the football team, they decided to auction the players to have a date with some fans who happen to be very wealthy old women. 

Following Hannah's advice, I managed to get on my father's good grace and call in a favor. Not that it was difficult to convince him. After meeting him for lunch this week and surprising him with a big hug, my dad was happy enough to do anything I would've asked.

The night of the fundraising, I decide to wear the same gown that I wore on the gala for Enchanted Shadows. A strategic choice. When I step into the prep room where all the team is gathered before the auction, they all greet me with enthusiasm and snarky remarks about my attire.

"Being so gorgeous should be illegal," Alex whines. "What about my mental health?"

His teammates let out several groans of second-hand embarrassment. 

"Forget it, kid," Hector tells him. "You don't stand a chance."

Roger asks, "Did you come to make sure that the old ladies would leave you a piece of Lucian?"

Before I can answer Samuel jokes, "Don't worry, we'll make sure his virtue remains intact."

I haven't made eye contact with Lucian on purpose, but I felt the weight of his gaze on me since I walked in.

"I don't know why you guys think that I'm worried about him," I say nonchalantly. "We're not together anymore."

A sudden hush falls in the room. You could hear a hair pin drop. They look back and forth between Lucian and I. I choose this moment to look in his direction, and I'm satisfied to witness his discomfort. 

"You didn't tell your friends that you broke up with me?" I ask with the right amount of practiced confusion in my voice.

All hell breaks loose as the boys start speaking at the same time.

"Bro, you did what?"

"Are you crazy?"

"Dude fumbled Akhyra Morel. This is wild."

"Is it Crack? Is that what you smoke?"

"Can we not do this now?" Lucian throws at his teammates with an icy glare. 

"Does that mean you're open for new applicants?" Samuel asks me with a hopeful smile.

"Relax, you can't hit on her," Hector warns him. "That goes against the bro code."

"Nah, I'm good. Lucian and I weren't friends like that. Are you free Saturday?" He focuses on me again. "Let me take you to dinner."

"Maybe you could wear MY jersey in the final match," Roger pipes up. 

They immediately start arguing about whose jersey I should wear, and I have to clap in my hands to get peace in the room.

"As much as I'm flattered by the attention guys, tonight is about which gentlemen out there will throw in the most money for my company."

Alex's eyes become comically big when he catches the meaning of my declaration. "Wait, you're also part of the auction?"

I send him a wink that makes his light skin blush. "You could say I'm the cherry on top."

The woman who's in charge of conducting the auction comes in with the perfect timing to tell us that it's our turn. 

"Let's go, everybody," she gestures for us to follow her out of the room. "Don't forget to have fun out there!"

Oh, that's my only goal for tonight.