That notebook held everything—the entire process of creating the choreography, from brainstorming to the final touches. Sketches, notes, revisions… everything was in there. If I could find it, maybe I’d still have a chance to prove myself.
I tore through the rehearsal room, searching every corner, then went back to my bedroom to look again.
But no matter where I checked, the notebook was gone.
Right then, Ginger walked in, casually pushing the door open.
“Looking for something?” she asked.
I looked up and met her half-smiling eyes and smirk. And in that instant, I knew.
“You took my notebook, didn’t you?”
“Notebook?” She tilted her head like she was trying to remember. “Oh, you mean that little book full of doodles?”
“Give it back to me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
She laughed softly. “Sorry, it’s already been taken care of. I mean, what’s the point of keeping a plagiarist’s work, right?”
My hands started shaking. “How could you? That notebook was my blood, sweat, and tears!”
“Your blood, sweat, and tears?” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Darcey, do you really think you can make a comeback? Even if you had that notebook, who’s going to believe you?”