Chapter 2 - The Red Light Above the Mirror
Principal Holloway told Marcus Reed to call the school's medical coordinator and request the original security recording before anyone reset or touched the studio equipment.
His instructions were calm, but the tautness around his mouth made it clear that he understood the seriousness of what he had walked into.
Meredith remained near the mirror, rubbing the side of her face while insisting that her conduct had been misunderstood.
Elena kept her attention on Julian, who seemed smaller in his black practice clothes than he had that morning.
"Can you breathe normally?" she asked him.
He nodded, then winced when he moved his jaw.
"My shoulder hurts where I landed."
"We'll have someone check it."
"Please don't leave me in here with her."
The words were so quiet that Elena almost missed them.
She had known her brother as a fearless child who learned difficult steps in a cramped apartment kitchen, spinning between chairs while their mother laughed.
Now he could scarcely look toward the person standing twenty feet away.
"I'm not going anywhere," Elena said.
Holloway offered to move the siblings to a private room, but Julian shook his head when he saw Meredith glance toward the door.
"I don't want her to get to the camera first."
Marcus's expression changed.
"Nobody will touch the system without authorization," he assured him.
He radioed the monitoring office and requested that the relevant footage be preserved under the school's incident protocol, with access logged.
Holloway asked Meredith to leave the studio under escort, and she objected that such a measure suggested she was guilty.
"It means the student needs space and the evidence needs protection," he answered.
"You will have a chance to provide your account."
The instructor looked as though she might argue further, but Marcus led her into the adjoining corridor.
As the door closed, Julian suddenly inhaled in a shuddering rush.
Elena guided him to the practice bench, pushing fallen equipment aside with her boot.
He sat carefully, one hand pressing his sore shoulder, and tried not to cry.
"You don't have to pretend you're fine," Elena said.
He looked at her with the embarrassed confusion of someone who had been taught that pain was a moral failure.
"She always says tears are a performance."
"She doesn't get to define what you're feeling."
A staff medic arrived with a small examination kit and a level voice.
She examined his reddened cheek, asked about dizziness, checked his shoulder and wrist, and recommended assessment at an urgent-care clinic because of the fall and repeated blows.
Elena agreed immediately.
Julian asked if the school could take away his scholarship for causing trouble.
The medic paused, surprised that this was his first concern.
Holloway came closer.
"Your right to report being hurt does not depend on your scholarship," he said.
"We will put that in writing."
Julian tried to accept the assurance, but memory kept contradicting it.
For months Meredith had controlled who danced at rehearsals, whose names appeared on casting sheets, and which students received invitations to prestigious auditions.
She had once warned him that a talented dancer could be made invisible with a single recommendation letter.
He had believed her because he had seen her remove a classmate from a performance without explanation.
Elena watched her brother's eyes move toward the mirror again.
"Has something like this happened before?"
His lips parted, then closed.
"Not exactly like today."
"Tell me what that means."
He rubbed the seam of his altered collar.
"She would grab my arms to put me where she wanted."
"She'd call me useless in front of the others."
"Sometimes she made me keep rehearsing when my ankle was hurting."
Elena felt anger climb through her chest, but she refused to let it drown out his voice.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Julian stared at the floor.
"Because you already do everything for me."
The words hurt more than the sight of Meredith's hand in his hair.
Elena worked long hours, managed household bills, and had helped their mother keep the family afloat while Julian chased a dream nobody could afford to fund on their own.
He had mistaken his sister's sacrifices for a reason to endure more.
"You are never a burden for needing help," she said.
A quiet knock interrupted them.
Marcus returned with news that the security system had retained video from the studio camera and a separate corridor camera.
The school had secured copies under restricted access and would provide the evidence through its formal review process.
Meredith's claim about a malfunctioning camera had not survived the first technical check.
Holloway exhaled slowly.
"I am appointing an independent investigator," he said.
"I also want the student services office to contact anyone who may have witnessed related conduct."
Julian lowered his gaze.
"There are people who know."
"Then they deserve a safe way to speak," Holloway answered.
The principal asked Elena and Julian to document their memories separately before comparing details, so no one could claim their accounts had been rehearsed together.
Elena understood the importance of that distinction, even though it felt cruel to ask her brother to write about his humiliation so soon.
She promised she would sit nearby while he did it.
The medic advised them to leave for medical care rather than remain in the studio, and Holloway arranged for a staff member to accompany them to the building exit.
As Julian stood, he looked back at the long barre, the overturned chair, and the reflection of a young man he barely recognized.
He remembered arriving at the academy believing that talent and effort could carry him anywhere.
He wondered whether the room would ever feel like a place to dance again.
In the hallway, a student named Iris stood near the lockers, clutching a practice bag to her chest.
She had heard the shouting through the wall and had watched Meredith being escorted away.
When Julian passed, Iris whispered something that stopped him in his tracks.
"She told us she was going to make an example of you today."
Elena turned.
"What did you say?"
Iris looked toward the monitoring office, fear bright in her eyes.
May you like
"I shouldn't talk here," she said.
"But you need to know this didn't start with Julian."
