Woe is Friendships
Maya was charming, confident, and stunning on stage.
She was also older—ten when she joined, while Faye and Lena were only eight.
Maya had a presence. The kind that made people turn their heads unknowingly when she entered a room.
She always carried a sort of untouchable grace into the studio, picking up on steps better than any of them, jumped higher, stretched beautifully, with amazing control and powerful dynamics.
And she took a liking to Lena almost instantly.
—
"You’re really good at adagio," Maya said one afternoon, adjusting her skirt in the mirror.
Lena, who never knew how to take compliments, ducked her head. "Oh… thank you."
"You should be in the front more," Maya continued, stretching her arms above her head.
"Your lines are the best in class."
Lena’s cheeks tinted pink.
Faye, sitting on the floor tying her shoes, felt a strange squeeze in her chest.
I was the one who told her, she knows that! I tell her every day.
Faye didn't understand why it hurt. Why it stung when she saw Maya and Lena whispering and laughing, why it felt like something was slipping away.
She could still hear Maya’s voice, so effortlessly friendly and always with a small pout on her lips:
"Faye, why are you always so quiet around me? Don’t you like me?"
Faye smiled. Shook her head.
"No, I like you."
A lie.
Because the truth was— I don't like you. I don't like how you took Lena away.
—
At first, it was fine. Faye still talked to Lena after class, still saved a spot beside her at the barre.
But then Maya started pulling.
"Lena, let’s practice together after class!"
"Lena, sit with me today!"
It was never a question, never something Lena could easily refuse. She had never been good at saying no, and so she went along with it, letting herself be swept up in Maya’s orbit.
Faye didn’t understand why it stung so much. Lena still smiled at her, still spoke to her, still reached for her hand as they walked to the dressing room. But something was shifting, tilting, just enough for Faye to feel unsteady on her feet.
And Maya— Maya was nothing but kind. She always included Faye in conversations, always turned to her with an easy grin, always made space for her. It wasn’t that she was being pushed away.
—
"Hey, Faye," Maya said one afternoon, stretching beside her after class. "You’re good at jumps, right?"
Faye hesitated, stretching her calf. "Yeah?"
"You should help Lena with hers. She’s too stiff in petit allegro."
It wasn’t a jab—Maya was never cruel. Her tone was light, casual. But the words wedged themselves under Faye’s skin, sharp and aching.
Lena had always danced with her. As an equal. As a partner. Not as someone to be "helped."
—
Faye hated it. Hated the way Maya’s presence pressed into her life, like a weight she couldn’t shake. Hated how it felt like Maya was always one step ahead, always the one Lena turned to first.
Maya wasn’t cruel. She was warm, generous—she brought Faye gifts when her family traveled, little trinkets and souvenirs that should have made her feel included.
But Lena’s gifts were always bigger. More extravagant. More thoughtful.
Faye wasn’t jealous of Lena. No, she wanted Lena to herself.
—
Then, one day, Faye overheard a conversation that made her heart sink.
"Lena, why don’t you ever talk much?" Maya had asked.
Lena fidgeted, looking down. "I just… don’t know what to say."
Maya giggled. "You don’t have to. Just stick with me, okay? I’ll talk enough for both of us."
—
The words struck Faye like a physical blow, stealing the air from her lungs.
Her fingers froze against the fabric of her clothes, and for a moment, she felt weightless—adrift in a reality that suddenly didn’t feel like her own.
She had said those exact words to Lena once.
It was years ago, when they were just kids, sitting side by side on the studio floor after their very first recital. Lena had been so quiet, so unsure of herself, eyes wide and uncertain as she tugged at the frayed ribbons of her ballet shoes.
"It’s okay," Faye had told her, nudging her shoulder playfully. "You don’t have to talk—I’ll do it for both of us."
And Lena had smiled, a small, grateful curve of her lips, before nodding.
Now, that promise belonged to someone else.
The realization hit her so hard she had to sink down onto the floor, her back pressed against the cold wall as she hugged her ballet bag to her chest. Tears welled up, blurring the dim light of the changing room. She bit her lip, willing herself to stay silent, to not let the pain bubbling inside her spill over.
Lena and Maya’s voices grew fainter, their laughter light and effortless as they walked away together. Only when their footsteps disappeared did Faye let out a quiet, shuddering breath. A single tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another. A soft whimper broke from her throat, barely audible even to herself.
She had always been the one who talked for Lena. She had always been the one at her side.
But for the first time in her life, Faye felt like an outsider.
—
And so, slowly, Faye drifted.
She started laughing with the louder girls in class, even though their jokes didn’t always make sense to her. She learned how to blend in, how to act like she wasn’t watching Lena from the corner of her eye, hoping, waiting.
And still, Lena would sometimes look at her with a confused tilt of her head, like she didn’t understand why Faye had pulled away.
But you left me first.
—
She didn’t stop talking to Lena entirely. But she stopped trying.
So Faye pretended she didn’t care.
Because maybe… maybe it was easier that way.