Chapter 1

On the day of the school festival, someone secretly cut the laces of my dance shoes.

Whoever did this wanted me to trip and make a fool of myself in front of everyone, maybe even get hurt so I couldn't compete in the next round.

Whoever came up with this scheme was probably a dancer, too.

I didn't say a word.

Instead, I quietly turned the tables on whoever was trying to set me up.

If they wanted to mess with me, I'd show them what it meant to reap what you sow.

And while I was at it, I'd find out who was really so vicious.

*****

My cousin Nadia Barton and I both froze when we saw the cut in the lace of my dance shoe.

Her phone had dropped onto my shoe, and as she picked it up, her hand brushed against the lace.

She just gave it a little tug.

And the lace snapped right at the cut.

I'd be way rougher on my shoes when I danced than that little tug.

Nadia was shocked, too.

"Lucy, didn't you check your dance shoes before you left? If the lace snaps on stage, you could really hurt yourself," she said.

Nadia was a dancer too, so she knew exactly what this meant.

Falling on stage was embarrassing, but if it was bad enough, it could even break your ankle and mess up your whole career.

I shook my head. "No, we can't. The lucky charm only wards off bad luck once a month; it's got a cooldown, remember?"

"Of course I checked them," I said.

I was always careful before every performance.

And I clearly remembered.

The shoes were perfectly fine when I packed them up.

I hadn't worn them for long, and they were my go-to brand—they didn't fall apart that fast.

I picked up the shoe and took a closer look.

The stitching on the lace was snapped.

But the break was smooth.

It was clear someone had cut it on purpose.

Nadia grabbed the shoe and checked it out herself.

Then she frowned.

"Who could be so vicious? Lucy, did you make someone mad or something?" she asked.

I shook my head again.

All I ever did was dance.

I hardly ever talked to people, much less pissed anyone off.

And I didn't even have a boyfriend, so there was no old flame or secret admirer plotting against me.

Nadia added, "Who else would know to sabotage your dance shoes? It's probably another dancer."

I fell silent.

It made sense.

I was number one in my major and had picked up tons of awards at competitions.

It was no wonder people might be jealous.

Right after the festival, the national dance competition was just around the corner.

I racked my brain, trying to remember if I'd missed anything.