The days following New Year’s Eve seem to almost disappear with everything falling back into its usual routine with the addition of dates with Derek and that he’s switched to Performance Ballroom, where Harper and I train. It took a lot of convincing and a performance for Mlle. Dubois, but she finally agreed to allow Derek and I to be partners. She commented, “Mes enfants, your passion for each other is evident in your dancing.” That comment alone had both of us beaming, not only from pride but from our shared connection. Derek and I have won several top-10 spots in competitions in the last 6 months.

Our reward for placing so well? Mademoiselle Dubois works us just that much harder. In her words, “Mes enfants, vous pouvez faire beaucoup plus que vous ne le pensez,” which Phoebe translated as “My children, you can do much more than you think.”

As a result, Derek and I were transferred to her special class, where she personally teaches us. If I thought the other instructors were demanding, they were nothing compared to Mlle. Dubois. By the time class is over, both Derek and I are completely drained.

As much as Harper and I have always enjoyed our jazz dance classes, Dad pulls us from the class in mid-January. Things have gotten out of hand with that class since the owner sold it when she got married. The new owner? I’ll just say that Harper and I intensely dislike the man, and after he got handsy with all of the girls, our parents pulled us out of class. It wasn’t much, and it wasn’t anything the social monitors would’ve reported him for, but it was enough for us to feel uncomfortable and tell our parents. The way Dad said it, “A 40-something-year-old man should never touch teenage girls, no matter what.” We wholeheartedly agree with him.