Crave (Harlequin Teen)

the audience clapped and cheered far louder than politeness required. The harder they clapped, the faster my blood rushed through my veins, until it seemed I could jump out onto that sound and fly on it like a strong wind.
    Ohhh. So this was what the Charmers felt when they performed. And they got to experience this all the time.
    I could definitely get addicted to this.
    Forming a horizontal line with my classmates, we walked to the front edge of the stage to take our bows. In midcurtsy, I looked out into the audience, squinting to see Nanna and Mom beyond the spotlights. And Dad’s back as he walked up the aisle toward the exit.
    He was leaving already? I still had a jazz routine to perform!
    My throat choked up. Breathing was nearly impossible as I finished the curtsy and followed the other dancers offstage on legs that had suddenly turned awkward and stiff. As soon as I reached the wing’s darkness, I started running, weaving down the hall past props and mothers and dancers. Didn’t Dad know I had two routines to perform tonight, not just one? I had to reach him, had to stop him before he left.
    Rain poured down outside. I could hear the water pounding the building’s front cement steps as I reached the foyer. The glass doors thudded closed after his retreating figure.
    I slapped the door open again. “Dad! Wait!” Could he hear me over the rain? Oh, wait, of course he could. He was a vampire with that same supersonic hearing I had.
    Despite the weather, he carried no umbrella to protect the dark suit he always wore, now soaked and clinging to his trim figure. The water didn’t seem to faze him as he stopped halfway down the sidewalk and turned to face me with those emotionless eyes so like my own.
    “I—I’m glad you came.” I couldn’t close the distance between us. I was still in my ballet slippers, and rain had splashed under the entrance’s metal awning. My slippers’ leather soles would be ruined if I got them wet. I edged out as far as I dared so the door could shut behind me and block my voice from carrying back into the theater.
    “Um, did Mom mention that I’m doing two routines tonight?”
    I thought he would be surprised. Instead, he nodded.
    He knew I had another routine to perform…and was still leaving?
    I forgot about the wet cement and took a step forward. “Well, the second routine is a jazz number. So if you don’t like ballet, you don’t have to worry about it because all the ballet routines are done now.”
    “I enjoy ballet, Savannah. But I must leave now.”
    “You’ve got somewhere else you have to be? Right now?”
    “No. But I watched your ballet routine and have seen enough. Probably too much, in fact.”
    “I…” What could I say to that? I played with the stiff, scratchy folds of my romantic-style tutu. “Was my dancing that bad?”
    “No. Your dancing was beautiful.”
    My head popped up in confusion.
    He sighed. “That is the problem. Your performance was too good. You should not be able to dance even half so well for a beginner. How long do you think you will be able to outshine the others in your classes before someone begins to ask questions?”
    “So…you’re saying you’d rather I danced like crap instead?”
    “No, I am saying you need to stop performing. Completely. As you continue to change physically, you are sure to improve at everything you do. Eventually, you will dance better than even the professionals. And then the inevitable questions will begin. People will want to know how you can leap so high, turn so fast, balance so well. They will see you for what you are…as something different. Something not quite human.”
    A freak.
    My heart hammered faster, and I found myself shaking my head without even deciding to. “No.” He had to be wrong. No way could my one happiness in life make me an even bigger freak. “I…I can control it. You know, not push myself so hard. I mean, I only did so well tonight because I wanted to impress you and Mom and Nanna. To make you proud of me and show how much I’ve improved.”
    “If you really want to make me proud, you will stop dancing. Immediately.”
    He might as well have slapped me. I struggled to breathe for a second as I tried to imagine never dancing again. And couldn’t. “But dancing is a really big deal to me, Dad. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at.”
    “I am sorry. But if you do not stop dancing, your actions could risk the exposure of our world.” He glanced around