“I know. My uncle wrote about it in the Daily Post.”
“I forgot your uncle is a reporter. He should talk to Tim. He says it was maintenance. That’s the problem with those non-scheduled airlines—you don’t know who’s doing the maintenance. They don’t have the same standards as the majors. It’s a risk to fly them. Tim flies with American. Top-notch. You can trust them.”
“I’ve never flown,” Miri said.
“When you do.”
“I doubt I will.”
“Of course you will.”
Miri shook her head. When she learned the fiery thing that fell from the sky was a plane, she vowed she would never set foot on one.
Natalie was lying on her bed, her pale curls fanned out on the pillow. She looked like an angel, her cheeks still rosy from stage makeup, the Pixie Pink lipstick not yet worn off. Miri sat on the edge of the bed and reached for Natalie’s hand.
“I made a complete fool of myself,” Natalie said. “I’ll never be able to go back to school.”
“Everyone will understand.”
“Understand what?”
“You know.”
Natalie looked at Miri, waiting for her to spell it out.
“Understand that you’re…” Miri began.
“What?”
“Understand that you’re sensitive.” Miri was proud for coming up with such a good word.
“Is that like saying I’m dramatic, or crazy?”
Miri was careful now. “Sensitive is better than dramatic, and it’s definitely not as bad as crazy.”
“You saw the crash but you didn’t cry in the middle of the Christmas pageant.”
“Everyone is different.” Miri didn’t add, You don’t know what’s inside of me. You don’t know about the smell in my nostrils, you don’t know how I have to sleep in bed with my mother half the night, or that the only thing she’ll say about it is, It’s over and it’s never going to happen again.
Natalie held on to Miri’s hand, and looked around as if there might be someone else in her room. Then she lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “You know that dancer, Ruby Granik?”
“My uncle is interviewing her family,” Miri said.
Natalie let go of Miri’s hand and sat up, intrigued by this information. “Do you think he’d interview me?”
“He’s only talking to people who knew her. Family. Friends. People who worked with her.”
Natalie’s voice went very low. “What I could tell him is just as important, maybe more important. Not that I’d want him to use my name.”
“Like what?”
“Swear you’ll never tell?”
“I already swore I wouldn’t, remember?”
“She’s the one who cried in the middle of the Christmas pageant today because she’ll never have another Christmas. She’s the one who keeps telling me about the babies inside the plane.” Natalie jumped off her bed. “I have to get ready for dance class. Come with me.”
“Wait, I thought…”
But Natalie grabbed her hatbox-shaped dance bag and ran down the stairs, with Miri trailing behind her. Natalie was full of surprises today, Miri thought. One minute, falling apart onstage, the next, with enough energy to light up the whole house.
“Tell Mom I’ve gone to dance class,” Natalie called to Mrs. Barnes.
Mrs. Barnes met her at the kitchen door. “I thought you weren’t feeling well.”
“I’m better now,” Natalie said. “And Miri’s coming with me. We’ll take the bus. Mom can pick me up at the usual time.”
At tap class Natalie was the best. Her feet led the way and the rest of her body followed. Double pullbacks, traveling time steps, wings—she could do it all. No one in her class could begin to keep up with her.
After class, Natalie gave her teacher, Erma Rankin, her Christmas gift, which Miri guessed from the size and shape of the box was a Volupté compact, tied with the same holiday paper and red ribbon her grandmother used.
Miss Rankin said, “Thank you, Natalie. I’m going to miss you. I hope you’ll still come to visit from time to time.”
“What do you mean?” Natalie asked.
“I’ve taught you all I can. As I told your mother a few weeks ago, you’re ready to study with the masters. I’m going to suggest a few teachers in New York.”
“You told my mother?”
“Yes, just after Thanksgiving.” Erma Rankin read the look on Natalie’s face. “Oops! I’ll bet she was saving that as a holiday surprise.”
“Did you hear that?” Natalie asked Miri in the changing room. “Did you hear what she said?”
Miri nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you know what this means?” Natalie asked.
“It means you have talent.”
“Yes,” Natalie said. “But it’s Ruby’s talent. Don’t you see? She’s dancing through me now. She’s living inside me.”
“But Miss Rankin said she told your mother at Thanksgiving.”