SHE CALLED MY LEG ‘VISUALLY UNAPPEALING’ AND MADE ME DANCE UNTIL I COLLAPSED IN FRONT OF EVERYONE; I THOUGHT MY DREAM WAS DEAD UNTIL THE DOORS EXPLODED OPEN AND A BALLERINA ANNOUNCED SHE HAD BEEN SEARCHING FOR ME TO OFFER A GLOBAL TOUR.
The polished floor felt like ice under my good foot. Sweat stung my eyes, blurring the studio lights into halos. Every muscle screamed, but I forced a smile, trying to ignore the burning ache radiating from where the metal of my prosthetic leg met my skin. “Again!” Madame Evette’s voice cracked like a whip. “And…