They worked frantically, developing contingencies for whatever Melanie might throw at her. Sabrina's body protested, but her mind remained sharp, absorbing every suggestion.
At 3:50, doubt crept in. "Maybe I should withdraw," she said quietly. "They're determined to humiliate me."
"Call your brother," Andre suggested. "Remember why you're doing this."
Theo answered on the second ring, his voice excited. "Sabrina, guess what? My robotics project got selected for the state showcase! If I place in the top three, there's another scholarship opportunity!"
The sound of his enthusiasm cut through her doubt like sunshine through clouds. She could hear the whirring of small motors in the background; he was still working, still believing in possibilities.
"That's amazing, Theo," she said, her resolve strengthening. "You're going to blow them away."
"Everything okay?" he asked, suddenly perceptive. "You sound tired."
"Just work," she lied. "Hey, remember what Mom and Dad always told us after they died?"
"'We rise by lifting others,'" Theo recited immediately. "You say it like every day."
"Because it's true," Sabrina said, more to herself than to him. "Keep working on that project. I've got to run."
After hanging up, she wrote the phrase on her inner wrist with a black marker: Rise and Lift. The ink tingled against her skin, a physical reminder of what was at stake.
The callback session was worse than she'd anticipated. Melanie announced the special challenge with barely concealed satisfaction, explaining that adaptability was essential for professional dancers.
"Each of you will perform the solo routine first, then transition immediately to a partner sequence," she explained as dancers paired off according to a list Jason held. "The partner work will focus on counterbalance and weight distribution."
Sabrina's heart sank as she heard her name called with Zoe's. The petite blonde smirked, whispering something to her friends that made them giggle behind their hands.
Just before her turn, Sabrina went to retrieve her dance shoes from her bag, only to find the left one slashed along the side seam, the right with its laces cut. She looked up to see Zoe watching her, innocence plastered across her face despite the suspicious scissors peeking from her bag.
Instead of reacting, Sabrina calmly reached deeper into her bag and pulled out a second pair of shoes. She'd anticipated sabotage. The backup pair was identical, broken in, ready. The satisfied weight of them in her hands felt like a small victory.
In the bathroom before her performance, Sabrina splashed cool water on her face, trying to calm her racing thoughts. The smell of her nervous sweat mixed with determination as she stared at her reflection.
"You can do this," she whispered to herself, touching the Rise and Lift on her wrist.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Andre: "Whatever happens, stay true to your style. Also, we have a special guest watching from the back. Don't look for them. Just dance your heart out. Plan B is in motion."
Special guest? Sabrina wondered briefly, but there was no time to dwell on it. Her number was being called.
The studio felt electric as she took her position. Melanie, Jason, and a third judge, supposedly from Devon's team, sat at a table in front, tablets ready for notes. Zoe stood off to the side, looking smug and confident in their planned failure.
Sabrina closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the vibration of the bass through the floor into her feet. In the momentary silence before the music began, she focused on her own determined breathing, pushing away all doubts, all fears, all limitations others had placed upon her.
It was time to rise.
The harsh stage lights created a wall of white glare as Sabrina took her position. Twenty dancers had been narrowed to ten for this final callback, and she was scheduled last. Always last, always an afterthought.
The studio smelled of spray deodorant and fear, the squeak of dance shoes against the floor punctuating the tense silence between performances.
Melanie sat center at the judges' table, flanked by Jason and a man introduced only as Mr. Thomas from Devon Jackson's team—a slender, unassuming figure in expensive casual wear who hadn't spoken a word, merely observing with inscrutable eyes behind designer glasses.
"For our final assessment," Melanie announced, "each dancer will perform both a solo sequence and participate in a group coordination exercise. This will test not only individual skill, but your ability to blend with an ensemble." Her eyes flickered briefly to Sabrina. "Essential qualities for professional dancers."
The subtle collective intake of breath from the dancers was audible. This was new, unexpected.
Sabrina felt her mouth go dry. The other dancers had formed alliances during callbacks, practiced together, supported each other. She'd been deliberately isolated, excluded from their unofficial rehearsals.
Zoe performed first, her technique flawless but mechanical. She executed each movement with precision, but without emotion: perfect extensions, perfect turns, perfect emptiness. The mysterious Mr. Thomas watched without expression, occasionally making notes on his tablet. Sabrina noticed him stifle a yawn halfway through.
One by one, the dancers performed. Some were good, some exceptional, all conforming to the narrow physical ideal Melanie clearly preferred. The monotonous rhythm of technically perfect but emotionally vacant performances filled the hours. In the background, Sabrina could hear the soft muttering of Mr. Thomas to his assistant, who had joined him, neither looking particularly impressed.
Finally, Melanie called her name. "Number 87, Sabrina Carter."
The room seemed to hold its breath as Sabrina walked to center floor. Zoe and her friends exchanged glances, snickering behind their hands. Melanie's face showed smug anticipation of failure, of the plan coming together perfectly.
The music began—a pulsing, challenging beat chosen specifically for thin, athletic dancers, full of rapid transitions that traditionally favored smaller bodies. But Sabrina had spent the night transforming these challenges into opportunities.