The Ballerina's Secret. Teri Wilson

itself, or whatever was going on in there.

      Of course, what difference would a day or two have made if she got cast in the new ballet and earned a part in the company? None. Although that possibility was looking less likely by the minute.

      “To answer your question, yes. This could only be temporary, too. Head trauma is unpredictable.” The doctor reached around Mr. B to give Tessa’s hand a squeeze. “I hope it’s not. Deep down, I think you hope the same thing.”

      The doctor was right.

      Tessa nodded.

      But since the day thirteen months ago, when her partner dropped her at ballet rehearsal, Tessa’s hope had taken a serious hit. She wasn’t sure how much she had left anymore.

      * * *

      The solution seemed obvious—Tessa was going to have to withdraw from the auditions.

      She waited until the next morning to decide, on the off chance that she’d wake up and find that everything had gone back to normal. Normal, meaning silent. She didn’t breathe a word about what happened at her doctor’s appointment to her mother, or anyone else, for that matter. How silly would it have been to have to go back and explain that she hadn’t gotten her hearing back after all?

      She was in denial. Clearly. Because when she woke up and turned on the bathroom faucet to brush her teeth, it sounded as though she were standing on the edge of Niagara Falls.

       I can’t keep going like this and pretending nothing is happening.

      She was quitting.

      Maybe someday she’d get to audition again, if they agreed to give her another chance. Tessa wasn’t holding her breath.

      She was going to explain to Madame Daria in person, though, just in case it might make a difference next year. Or the year after that. It would be her last trip outside for the next few weeks. Her swan song. Then she’d follow Dr. Spencer’s advice and hole herself up until the world made sense again.