Chapter 23 #2
“What else? We all want to be able to dance on this stage without waiting until we’re seniors. You don’t know how magical it can be until you sneak into the theater at least once at night and dance here all by yourself.”
* * *
Katie’s words stay with me all day. Even when she finally kicks us out of the theater because we’ve done enough for today.
Even as I help Mae pick an outfit for her date with Tristan.
And even as I’m lying in bed later, tossing and turning, unable to sleep even though I’ve been dead tired all day. Now I’m wide awake.
I almost never break the rules, and the few times I’ve done so can be counted on one hand. My pens are sorted by color, as are my ballet leotards and all the books I own. I like everything to be in order, and deliberately breaking rules isn’t compatible with my perfectionism.
Still, I’ve been thinking for hours now about breaking the rules, sneaking into the theater, and dancing on that stage.
Be courageous. Trust yourself.
It’s not a conscious decision, but shortly after midnight, my legs swing over the edge of my bed, and I quickly dress and hurry out of my room. There are voices coming from the common room; I hear laughter. It’s Saturday night, and I’m probably the only one who’s been in bed.
I don’t see anyone on the stairs, but music echoes from a few of the rooms. When I push open the door and step outside, I see no one but me. It’s dark and surprisingly cold. It’s October now, and winter is coming fast.
My breath makes little clouds in the air, and I snuggle deeper into my down jacket.
It feels forbidden to walk into the theater in the middle of the night, which is probably because it is. Adrenaline is rushing through my veins, and my brain wants me to turn around and go back to bed, but I ignore it.
I can only think about the stage and the fact that I haven’t danced just for myself in ages.
Without being criticized by teachers, without Mae and the other girls I meet at the end of the week for practice, which is always fun but never gives me the feeling of peace I only feel when I’m alone.
It takes me a few minutes to find the door. I hesitate as I grab the handle.
This is crazy. I don’t do things like this.
But my stomach is fluttering nervously, and the stage is calling me.
I shake off the rising sense of doubt and push down the handle, and the door opens.
I cast one last glance over my shoulder, but the campus is a ghost town.
I can see the administration building, a dark warning behind me.
If I get caught, I’ll probably get into a lot of trouble, but the urge to do this one forbidden thing is simply overwhelming.
I slip inside, and the door closes behind me with a soft click.
Darkness surrounds me. I fish my phone out of my pocket and turn on the flashlight, and suddenly I’m where I’ve always wanted to be.
I carelessly drop my shoes and jacket on the floor and start my warm-up exercises before I finally put on my pointe shoes and my little Bluetooth earbuds, because it feels wrong to dance on this stage without music.
I have a weakness for pop songs that morph into classical music. Somehow, this makes every song sound even better.
My eyes have long since adapted to the darkness as I enter the stage, my heart beating wildly.
There’s nobody here but me, and no one can see me, but at the same time, it’s everything to me.
Suddenly, it doesn’t matter whether I’m allowed to be here or not.
I want to be here, I’ve always wanted to be here, and right now, this is exactly where I belong.
The stage floor creaks softly. I take a few steps, pause, and all at once find it difficult to breathe when I see the theater stretching out in front of me.
The rows of seats that descend toward the stage.
The fancy box seats. It’s completely dark, but it doesn’t matter.
I can see enough. Red velvet and absolute emptiness.
Music fills my ears, and I move of my own accord.
I improvise, not following any choreography. I feel the music, I feel free, and for a moment I forget everything. The chaos that is my life, Charlotte making mysterious plans, my family, Jase telling me his secrets again.
Now my mind goes silent. I only feel my heart beating, my breathing getting a little stronger, and my muscles working. I gaze out into the theater, and my steps turn into Aurora’s. Then I dance The Sleeping Beauty, the role I practiced so many times that I can do every step in my sleep.
I dance it because it was the first ballet I ever watched with my parents after I fell madly in love with the Disney movie.
I can’t remember why I loved the movie so much, but I loved the ballet even more.
I fell in love with Aurora and even more in love with the music.
I was captivated by the story and the feelings that the story created inside of me.
Longing, tingling excitement, hope. Everything about this ballet is full of magic and dreams that sneak into my heart.
Sleeping Beauty is a fairy tale, and somehow it has become my fairy tale.
I fell in love with the lightness and grace of the dancer who had played Aurora in that production.
I was mesmerized by her beauty and her ability to make me feel the character’s emotions with her dancing.
Now I dance the role myself, gliding over the dark stage with my body feeling more under control than it’s been for ages.
Adrenaline rushes through my veins, my skin tingles, and I feel so infinitely alive as I push off into a pirouette, spinning around and around on my axis, not once losing my balance.
The music in my earbuds doesn’t fit with the steps or the story, but it feels right. For a moment, I’m weightless and simply happy.
I had forgotten how that feels.
To be happy.
Tears flood my eyes, but I let them come, because it’s time to let them go. And then I just feel. I feel everything.