By the time Noah arrived at the performing arts center, Violet had fallen asleep against the wall. It looked horribly uncomfortable. One of her knees was bent but the other was straight out in front of her and obviously swollen. So that was what she had hurt.
"Vi," he said softly as he shook her shoulder. "Can you get up on your own?"
Her eyes fluttered open and she rubbed at them before wincing. Some of the stage makeup had rubbed off.
"I…don't think so," she admitted. "I can't bend my knee."
Noah bent down and awkwardly tried to lift her without making her injured knee bend. It worked out in the end but the arms Violet had wrapped around his neck for support were choking him a little.
She was still wearing her costume—a simple white dress meant to look like a 19th century nightgown, white tights, and pointe shoes. Her hair was curled and partially pulled back with ribbons in it.
