I groaned when I saw Victor’s Lamborghini outside the gate after school the next day.
“Is learning how to dance that terrible?” Amy asked with a chuckle.
“Yes,” I replied. “You didn’t see my last dance instructor lying on the floor with a broken arm. The poor man was in pain.”
“Well, you say you don’t like Victor,” Amy teased. “So you shouldn’t care as much if he gets hurt.”
“I would care if he got hurt because of me,” I said. “But it’s more than that. I’m tired of Victor watching me make a fool of myself.”
“Then don’t do it,” Amy advised. “Nobody can make you take dance lessons.”
“The ball means too much to Alex,” I said with a sigh. “I need to try my best.”
“That’s all anybody can ask of you.” Amy gave me a side hug. “See you tomorrow, Daisy.”
“See you,” I said and walked to the
