"Alright, that's it for class today." At the professor's words, everyone immediately moved towards the cubbies at near the door of the studio for their bags. "Wait a minute- I have a quick announcement before we go."

Misto suppressed a sigh- it was the middle of the week and he was exhausted. All he wanted was to go back to the dorm and sleep.

"All of you are Ballet majors, right?" Everyone in the room nodded. "The department decided last week that we're changing a policy, men and women will now have the same course requirements. Ladies, you don't need to worry too much, your requirements will stay the same. Guys, the major change is all of you will have to start training en pointe. Have any of you done pointe work before?"

Misto hesitantly raised his hand. Glancing around he saw that there was only one other guy in the class with his hand in the air.

The professor looked at them and gave an approving nod. "Good. The two of you won't be starting from scratch. Do either of you have shoes? I'd like you both to come by studio 201 Friday so we can see what you've got."

Misto was shaking his head when he heard Victoria speak up from behind him. "Misto can borrow some of my pointe shoes, we're the same size."

"Great, thank you, Victoria." The professor said warmly. "Admetus, try to get fitted for some this week and let me know when you've got them."

Sighing as everybody turned back to pack up their things, Misto went to the professor to arrange a time to meet. As he walked past Victoria they made eye contact and he did his best to look betrayed.

"I'm probably going to ruin your shoes, you know." Misto huffed as they walked back to their dorm.

"You won't. We have the same feet." Vick insisted.

"So? We don't dance exactly the same." Misto insisted.

"It'll probably be fine." Victoria shrugged. "I don't care if my shoes get ruined anyway."

"You should," Misto scolded. "Pointe shoes are expensive."

"The dance department issues us as many pairs as we need." Vick stated. "Can we stop pretending this is about the shoes? I know the thought of dancing en pointe again makes you uncomfortable, but it isn't my fault they changed the policy. Besides, all the guys will have to do it. Doesn't that at least make you feel a little better?"

Even though Misto knew she was right, it didn't. After a long pause in the conversation, Victoria accepted that he wasn't going to answer and changed the subject.

"I'm going to hand out with Demeter and her cousin this weekend, and they were hoping you'd come too." Victoria said cautiously.

"Why?" Misto asked. "They don't even know me."

"Why not?" Victoria shot back. "It's always nice to make new friends."

"Not really, but okay." They had disagreed on this point before, and Misto didn't have the heart to get into the argument again. "Just tell them I was busy or something."

"Misto you can't keep isolating yourself forever." Victoria sighed. "Nobody here even knows about you! What are you so afraid of? You can just start over and only let them know what you want them to know."

"And if I make friends like you suggest, how long until someone finds an old dance performance online, or finds my old facebook account?" Misto demanded, feeling hotness grow in his cheeks. "What then, Vick? Distance is the only way I can live my life as myself without having to worry."

"Then why does it feel like you get more worried every day?"

Once again, Misto opted not to answer.

Misto walked into the studio on friday, pointe shoes in hand, trying his best not to stay calm.

"Mistoffelees!" The professor's voice made Misto flinch in surprise. "You're early, that's good. Do you need to warm up, or can we begin?"

Misto had hoped that the teacher wouldn't be already be in the studio. He had hoped for a moment or two to breathe before being put on the spot.

"I already warmed up."

"Perfect!" The teacher's smile sent chills down Misto's spine. "Then go ahead and put the shoes on and we can get started!"

Misto sat down and took Victoria's shoes out of his bag, setting them on the floor beside him as he put on toe pads to protect his feet. He didn't have calluses on his toes anymore, and he knew that would make it harder than it used to be. It was weird feeling his toes slip into the box after such a long time, familiar and alien all at once. Not wanting to dwell on it, tied the ribbons up his ankles, stood up, and walked to the bar.

"So. How much experience do you have with pointe?" The professor asked, eyeing him critically.

"It's been about two years since I last wore pointe shoes." Misto said slowly. "But before that I trained en pointe for about five years."

"Five years!" The professor's eyes widened. "That's unusual for a male dancer."

"I know." Misto said shortly. "Can we get started then?"

"Yes, of course. Let's start simple, I know you're very talented but we don't want to risk injury. Go ahead and hold the bar, second position, and releve up on both feet."

Misto was prepared for the pain, and when it came it wasn't as bad as he had expected. Dancing for so long had given him a good pain tolerance, but that didn't mean it was always easy. It was something he had practiced steeling himself against, practiced putting the pain into the back of his mind so that he could focus on the performance. He hadn't expected to be able to push the pointe pain away again after so much time had passed.

Gradually, he moved on to more difficult exercises until, with the professor's approval, he was doing grande adages, pirouettes, and fouettes. The muscle memory kicked in and it was almost as if no time had passed. As if he was still rehearsing with his sister for the Nutcracker when they were thirteen.

But Misto didn't want to go back to that time and that place. The dance felt good but the memory felt wrong. Wrong like wearing a tutu had felt wrong. He was proud of the person he had become. Even if it was just dance steps, a part of him wanted to push away every bit of the person he had been at thirteen. After one last fouette, he stopped.

"Have you seen enough?" Misto asked, turning to the professor. "Is there anything else you want me to show you?"

"No, I think you've already shown yourself to be quite competent in pointe." The professor told him. "I'll give you department approval to take the advanced class next term. Your basics are more than solid."

"Thank you." Misto nodded, then sat and removed the shoes as quickly as he could.

Victoria was away when he returned to the dorm, which wasn't usual. She was always leaving to hang out with classmates. Misto didn't mind that much, if anything he was grateful she never brought any friends by the dorm out of respect for his privacy. They had always had a good relationship. He had known other siblings to fight, but they never had. Or at least, their arguments never got too heated. For the most part, Misto couldn't imagine having a more supportive and understanding sister. Even when she disagreed, she always respected his boundaries, with most things at least.

The wall above Victoria's bed on her side of the dorm was one thing she hadn't been very understanding about. On that Wall Victoria had posted countless old photos and news articles from nearly every recital and performance they had had growing up. Misto had told her he didn't like seeing them. "They're important memories to me." Victoria had said "Next year we can get an apartment off campus with separate bedrooms. Then you won't have to look at them. But until then, can't you tolerate it? I like to look back and remember how far we've come."

In the end, Misto hadn't been able to get her to take them down. There were times, such as the present, where he was tempted to rip them down himself. Instead he just fell down onto his bed and turned his back to Victoria's memory wall and tried to block out the past from his mind.