—

Later on that week, the studio started holding auditions for a new dance teacher. The phone rang off the hook with requests for information. On the day of the first audition, the entire ballroom was packed with men and women of all different sizes and descriptions. Some women had their hair up in buns like classical ballerinas, some were dressed in outrageous outfits with bare midriffs and feathers.

“Oooh, I like the one with the low-cut green leotard and pink shorts,” whispered Viktor, wagging his eyebrows at Katerina. “Maybe we have to get you same outfit. I think it is very American.”

She burst out laughing and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You are an idiot.”

Nina and Mateo put on microphones and went to the front of the room to demonstrate. Adrienne and Dominic stood to the side, watching. Even before the group was supposed to do the combination, some people were marking it with their bodies, flinging their arms and legs around wildly regardless of who might get hit. They learned a few short combinations, then the entire room did the routine together, then Nina and Mateo had them do it in groups of ten. I couldn’t tell the difference between any of them, only when someone went the wrong way. People paired up with each other, becoming flustered as they didn’t know how to lead or follow.

It was a sort of controlled chaos. I noticed Dominic, Adrienne, Mateo and Nina circulating through the crowd, whispering to certain people. Somehow they picked out a group of thirty-five people who were invited back to take the two-week training course, which was actually an elimination class. Every day they decided who would be allowed to return the next day.

I heard the dancers discussing the candidates after every session in the reception area. Adrienne said that mainly what the studio needed was someone to teach beginning students and groups, so personality was vital. They wanted someone who could dance well but was also approachable, whom students could identify with.

“I like the redhead,” Mateo said.

“He’s handsome but arrogant. I’m afraid he’s going to turn into another Estella,” said Adrienne.

“What about the other one, that one with the endless legs?” Nina asked.

“Too tall, and bowlegged too. She’s going to tower over half of the male students,” Dominic answered.

“I have my hopes set on the blonde. She’s a quick learner, good technique and a great personality,” Adrienne said, but that woman didn’t show up the next day. She’d gotten cast for a Broadway show.

—

On nights after Lisa was asleep, when I wasn’t too exhausted by my day, I stayed up to work on a present for her. I wanted to give her something after she took the Hunter test to let her know how proud I was that she was trying, and also so that if she didn’t get in, she would have some consolation. Although the January test was months away, I knew how slow I was. I bought a ball of shiny purple yarn with glitter woven through it. I’d seen other girls in her class wearing long sparkling scarves. Years ago, Zan had shown me and our friend Mo Li how to knit, but while Zan’s stitches had been perfectly uniform, mine were lumpy. I had caught a slight cold and my throat was bothering me, but even as I frowned over my attempted scarf now, I tried to keep my spine straight and neck long, like the dancers at the studio.

I glanced at the photo of Ma and our jar of Broadway show money. Now that I was earning more as a receptionist, I gave Lisa a dollar to put in there every week. I still gave most of my paycheck to Pa. He was trying to save money for our future too. I’d tried to convince him that he didn’t need to provide us with dowries anymore but he’d said, “Dowry, college, same thing.”

Lisa continued to sleep badly, waking up exhausted and pale. She had nightmares and was now wetting her bed once or twice per week. At first, I’d put extra cloths underneath her sheets to keep the urine from soaking into the sofa, but soon I bought her some waterproof bedding from the bit of my salary I kept for myself.

Now she started thrashing on the couch. I dropped my knitting and hurried over to her. I held her and pressed my lips against her temple. “Lisa, you’re dreaming. It’s okay, it’s not real.”

She blinked, stared at me, then sat up. She hugged me tight. “Charlie, I wish I could always be with you.”

Startled, I was silent a moment, then I hugged her back. “I’m here. Are you feeling all right? Is there something wrong at school?”

Lisa just held me. Then she said, “No.”

I pulled away to stare at her slender face in the dim light, so much like Ma’s with its widow’s peak and pointy chin. “Really? You know you can tell me.”

Her eyes began to redden but she didn’t speak.

“There is something. What is it?”

She sniffed and looked away. “Nothing you can help me with.”

“It’s the stress of the Hunter test, isn’t it? You don’t need to take it.”

“No, I’m fine about that.”

“You don’t have to go to that stupid school. Or is it because you don’t feel prepared?” I’d meant to get some books to help her study but didn’t really know where to start. Every time I saw a textbook, I felt a cold lump in the pit of my stomach, remembering all of the times I’d struggled myself. I had to pull myself together for Lisa. I was a bad sister.

“Really.” Lisa laid a hand against my cheek. “I’m okay and the test’s not the problem. I promise.”

I placed my hand over hers. “Good. Then we’d better get you back to bed.”

“How often is this happening?” Pa stood in the doorway of the living room. He looked older than usual, his disheveled hair stood on end.

I looked at Lisa. Her eyes begged me not to tell him. “First time,” I said.

—

The next morning, Pa brewed the caterpillar soup for us. He had kept the caterpillars in an airtight box loaned from Uncle Henry all this time because Lisa and I had refused to eat them, but now he was adamant. We all sat around the small table with bowls of the viscous liquid in front of us. It was gray mixed with brown and smelled like dank earth. Thank goodness Pa had strained the caterpillars and herbs out of the soup. He must have known that if we’d been confronted with the bodies, we would have refused no matter what he said. But I had seen the little worms as he’d dropped them into the ceramic pot.

I stared at my bowl. “Are you really sure this works?”

“It’s unscientific and unhygienic,” said Lisa.

“Lisa.” I didn’t want to drink it either, but I didn’t want her to be disrespectful to Pa. It was too late to avoid the soup now.

She continued as if I hadn’t said anything. “This could result in our getting parasites. In the best-case scenario, we’d throw up from disgustingness.”

I breathed in. “Come on, Uncle Henry just cured that new delivery boy from the noodle shop of asthma, remember? He knows what he’s doing.”

“He used acupuncture. That guy didn’t have to drink worm soup.”

Pa’s angular face was firm. “This worm soup cost us almost a hundred and fifty dollars.”

Lisa swallowed and glanced at our Broadway show jar. A hundred and fifty dollars was a huge part of our household budget. I knew what she was thinking. We could almost have saved for another ticket with this amount. But I thought of Lisa and her nightmares. Maybe it would work. I’d drink the soup because that meant she would too.

“Drink up,” Pa said. “This is good for all of us. I will too. It is only because of Uncle Henry’s kindness that we have access to such powerful medicine.”

Lisa and I had years of experience drinking this sort of thing. We waited for the soup to cool, then held our breaths and gulped it down as quickly as possible. It tasted vile: bitter and slimy, with an undertone of mud. Then we ran to the sink and washed our mouths out with water.

“That is a waste,” Pa said.

“I want a glass of soda,” Lisa panted.