“We’ll figure something out,” I promised.
For two weeks, we searched for rides, but nobody could help consistently. Finally, at Sunday dinner, Audrey asked again.
“Why doesn’t somebody ask me?” Derek offered. “My office is near the studio. I’ll drive her three times a week.”
Audrey ran around the table and hugged him.
“Somebody has to get you to Broadway,” he joked.
Derek had been Scott’s best friend since high school, so we trusted him. At first, everything went wonderfully. Audrey returned home excited, showing us new steps and talking about her classes.
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Then, around the fourth week, things changed.
She stopped practicing, kept her dance shoes in her bag, and barely spoke about ballet.
“How was class?” I’d ask.
“Fine.”
“What did you learn?”
“Stuff.”
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When the studio announced recital auditions, Audrey suddenly refused to participate.
