I showed her the tuition receipts and enrollment confirmation.
“Why would I keep paying if I wanted you to quit?” I asked.
Her expression changed.
“Derek said you and Dad agreed I wasn’t ready. He said you didn’t want to hurt my feelings, so you asked him to keep driving me until I gave up.”
I felt sick.
Derek had convinced her that her own parents didn’t believe in her.
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He’d also told her that her teacher had doubts about her talent and that practicing would only make her look desperate.
“I thought you were ashamed of me,” she whispered.
I hugged her tightly.
“Never. Not for one second.”
On the drive home, Audrey explained that she’d spent those evenings sitting in the studio lobby or at a nearby café instead of attending class. She’d been too frightened to tell us because Derek claimed we’d get angry and forbid her from dancing.
