Rising High, the experct

This is from my book, Rising High. It's somewhere in the middle of the book.

Reality came down on me like an anvil. Alice wasn’t my friend. She was never my friend. She was only pretending. My breaths came in large gasps. I start running. I don’t care where I run; I just need to get out of here.

I feel a breeze blow my hair upwards and chilling my neck. I look around myself. I’m kneeling on the pavement in the middle of a small garden. I look down at my leotard. Ouch. It has cuts in the fabric everywhere, and there’s a long gash going through the skirt. I have a few holes in my stockings. I hope I don’t have to pay for that.

I hear somebody running to me from the way I came, so I prepared to start running again. But it’s only Robert, who is breathless. When he’s done getting his breath back, he says,

“So, why were you running?”

“None of your business,” I reply emotionlessly.

“Um, yes it is. Considering that you are my dance partner and my cousin’s best friend, yes it is my business,” Robert says, in a matter-of-fact voice.

I stay silent for a few minutes, and then I say,

“Alice isn’t my friend.”

“Yes, she is. You say that a lot,” Robert points out.

“Yes, I did, but she never was a true friend.”

“Oh.”