Chapter 6 #2
I pushed open the large doors that separated the school from the academy. I could hear giggling and whispers as I made my way down the hall to Mom’s office. All the dancers were clustered in front of the bulletin board—Bianca was at the center of them.
We stopped on the outskirts of the semicircle, but I couldn’t make out what they were all staring at. Thankfully, Eve had wiggled her way out of the crowd and I flagged her down.
“What did Mom post?” I asked.
Eve’s eyes were wide and her cheeks flushed. Excitement flitted around in her gaze as she studied me. “Apparently, some scouts from Juilliard are coming to pick a dancer to perform with the company this fall.” Her voice was breathy and she hung onto me like she would float away if she let go.
I almost laughed out loud. The thought of me being an anchor—hit home a little too hard.
“So…” Olivia asked as she leaned in.
One of the taller girls in front of me shifted and I could read the announcement for myself. “So, everyone in the academy is going to get a chance to perform in front of the most prestigious dance school in the country,” I whispered.
Eve squealed as she tightened her grip on my arm. “This is just what I need. An opportunity like this will only solidify my chances for a scholarship next year.” She looked to me and Olivia, her expression was filled with hope, but her eyes held a hint of desperation. “Right?”
I nodded. “Yeah, definitely.”
“For sure,” Olivia added, her voice filled with encouragement.
Eve wasn't like Bianca. Or Olivia, for that matter. Eve’s family didn’t have the funds to send her here. To buy her way in. Every semester, she had to prove her worth to the school or they would pull her funding.
I couldn't imagine the kind of stress she was under. If I met the requirements to be a ballerina, I was a shoo-in. Mom wouldn’t settle for anything less.
“Are you going to try?” Olivia asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
I glanced over at her, confused about what she was asking. “Am I going to try what?” I asked as I tucked my hair behind my ear.
“Try out. It’s for everyone, right? I mean, why not you?”
My cheeks heated as a few of the younger dancers that were within earshot glanced over at us. I wanted a hole to open up and swallow me as I felt their gaze drop to my body—that was covered in Alfredo sauce.
If I didn’t look like a pig before, I certainly did now.
Desperate to get out of here before word made its way up to Bianca that I was considering trying out, I grabbed onto Olivia and pulled her from the crowd. We made our way back to the school side of the building, the door shutting with a resounding thud.
“Man, those girls,” Olivia muttered under her breath. “It was like I’d suggested you blow up the school or something.” She glanced over at me with a sympathetic smile and that just made me feel worse.
I shrugged as I reached up and began pulling my hair into a ponytail on the top of my head. What did I care what those girls thought?
Sure, they were my peers. And yes, they knew just as much about dancing as I did. And maybe they did have a sliver of realism when they looked at me and gave me that are you joking look.
I knew dancers. I knew what they had to do to maintain their perfect figure. A lot of them had given up cake and cookies. I bet most hadn’t had a milkshake in a decade. Some of them had been on hard-core diets for as long as they could remember.
All of them had spent a lifetime training and working and compromising and making sacrifices, in some form or another.
So they knew what it was like. And they knew the cut-throat competition that would take place now that something as big as Juilliard was coming to our small academy.
For me to stand there, in my size, daydreaming about trying out and worse, imagining that I could even win? Well, I would stare at me too.
I sighed as I shrugged and threaded my arm through Olivia’s. “Let’s not talk about it anymore.”
Olivia and I began walking down the hallway to the chem lab. The bell was about to ring and there was no way I wanted to be late. If I couldn’t have Juilliard, then I needed the grades if I hoped to get into a good college.
Olivia was quiet for a few seconds before I felt her take in a deep breath. I braced myself for her response. But, nothing came. Instead, I felt her relax as we both walked into chem just as the bell rang.
I blew out my breath as soon as I dropped onto my seat. I took a second to calm my racing mind. My heart was pounding, even if I didn’t want to admit it.
There was a part of me that wished, deep, deep down, that I had the courage to try out. That maybe, just maybe, I might have a chance. That I might prove to my mom and the whole ballet community that I was good enough to dance.
That if they looked past their preconceived notions about what beauty and grace were, they just might find the talent that resided in me.
Maybe for the rest of the day, I was going to tell myself that I would try out. That I would be brave. Thinking about it wasn’t going to harm anyone, and when I thought those things, I felt happy.
And was it so wrong to feel happy? Just for a couple of hours. And then I would return to reality. I would return to my future.
A bleak, depressing, ballet-less future.
But until then, I was going to live my dream. Besides, who would it hurt?
Maybe me.
But I was okay with that.
I was used to being hurt.