By Li Lin Weinberger
When I get on stage tomorrow to dance I hope I soar as graceful and as free as an eagle. They are strong, I will never be strong. I chew on my nail and stare out the window aware of my mom’s eyes on me from the rearview mirror. I bury my hands inside my sweatshirt as the fog slowly creeps across the glass. When we get to the house my mom rips the key out of the ignition and slams the door behind her. I wait until she goes inside, and I slowly get out of the car, gathering my dance bag up. When I enter the house she is already banging around muttering, I quietly take off my coat and burrow into the couch in the living room. She is staring at me and finally, she purses her lips and stomps towards me.
“You disappointed me! What is wrong with you? In front of all those mothers too! You know what this means to me!” she says, grabbing my chin. A tear runs down my cheek and she withdraws her hand from my chin. “No dinner tonight, you're already getting chunky and ungrateful.” She spits out. I run upstairs and sit staring at a book as sleep slowly envelops me into its folds of warmth.
My mother's voice wrenches me from my escape.
“Get up!” she says, digging her nails into my shoulders as she wakes me. I lug myself to the car, sleep grasping at my heels, weighing me down. My mom pulls me through the swell of the dance theater all the way into a corner. “You better do this right,” she snarls at me, her eyes piercing mine. “If you mess up, I won’t be as forgiving as this time.” I nod and she grabs my wrist and pulls me to the room where all the dancers get ready. My mom sits me down and begins pulling my hair into a bun. My scalp sears with pain as she yanks but I know better than to cry out. I finish with my costume and look in a mirror, trying to manage a smile. A hand grabs at a piece of my hair, grabbing it out of my bun and yanking it from my scalp.
“You’ll need a miracle to be beautiful,” a girl from my dance class whispers in my ear, leaning in so I can feel the breath she takes as a grin breaks on her face showing her perfect teeth. She lets out a laugh and runs to her friends giggling. I feel so out of place, like a giraffe in a herd of zebras. My eyes dart as I look around for a place to escape to, my head throbbing.
“Dancers please report to stage wing A,” a man says over the loudspeaker.
“Samantha!” my mom yells, looking around accusingly and her eyes land on mine. She storms over, “Why are you wandering? Did you not hear the man?! What are you dumb?” She takes hold of my arm and storms to the stage with me in tow. “Stay here,” she says. “And do better than yesterday.” I stand as the first girl’s soundtrack plays over the speakers and as she grins and waves to her friends in the cloak of darkness from standing on the stage. I have no one to wave to. The stage lights come on and she takes flight, her arms soaring as she spins and twirls, this is why I love dance. I stand and fidget with my waistband on my leotard and reach up to my throbbing scalp. My hand pulls away and my eyes go wide as I look at the red tips of my fingers coated with blood. I look around and the girl from my dance class snickers, pointing at me. The show goes on, the music swelling and retreating like a tide. I am finally aware I am up next. The girls on stage end their dance and bow, walking off the stage, a hand lands on my shoulder pushing me forwards.
“Well, come on, girlie,” the man rasps, “I haven't got all day now.” I stumble onto the stage and stand, my heart racing as I wait for the music to start. The light clicks on, bathing me in light, blinding me, and my head throbs as papers shuffle and people cough in the audience. I turn to the wings and see the set man with an empty beer bottle in his hand taking a sip, looking sideways as he does, and I’m seven again. My dad lifts me into the air, my hands soaring through the empty space around us.
“My eagle,” he says. I giggle and he sets me down; the vision blurs and he is tumbling, staggering into our house, beer bottle in his hand, my mother shouts from a different room and I am falling. My head spins as I stand on the stage and all the emotions stored inside of me flow out, the music speaks to me as my arms circle the empty air around me and I take flight.
When I get on stage tomorrow to dance I hope I soar as graceful and as free as an eagle. They are strong, I will never be strong. I chew on my nail and stare out the window aware of my mom’s eyes on me from the rearview mirror. I bury my hands inside my sweatshirt as the fog slowly creeps across the glass. When we get to the house my mom rips the key out of the ignition and slams the door behind her. I wait until she goes inside, and I slowly get out of the car, gathering my dance bag up. When I enter the house she is already banging around muttering, I quietly take off my coat and burrow into the couch in the living room. She is staring at me and finally, she purses her lips and stomps towards me.
“You disappointed me! What is wrong with you? In front of all those mothers too! You know what this means to me!” she says, grabbing my chin. A tear runs down my cheek and she withdraws her hand from my chin. “No dinner tonight, you're already getting chunky and ungrateful.” She spits out. I run upstairs and sit staring at a book as sleep slowly envelops me into its folds of warmth.
My mother's voice wrenches me from my escape.
“Get up!” she says, digging her nails into my shoulders as she wakes me. I lug myself to the car, sleep grasping at my heels, weighing me down. My mom pulls me through the swell of the dance theater all the way into a corner. “You better do this right,” she snarls at me, her eyes piercing mine. “If you mess up, I won’t be as forgiving as this time.” I nod and she grabs my wrist and pulls me to the room where all the dancers get ready. My mom sits me down and begins pulling my hair into a bun. My scalp sears with pain as she yanks but I know better than to cry out. I finish with my costume and look in a mirror, trying to manage a smile. A hand grabs at a piece of my hair, grabbing it out of my bun and yanking it from my scalp.
“You’ll need a miracle to be beautiful,” a girl from my dance class whispers in my ear, leaning in so I can feel the breath she takes as a grin breaks on her face showing her perfect teeth. She lets out a laugh and runs to her friends giggling. I feel so out of place, like a giraffe in a herd of zebras. My eyes dart as I look around for a place to escape to, my head throbbing.
“Dancers please report to stage wing A,” a man says over the loudspeaker.
“Samantha!” my mom yells, looking around accusingly and her eyes land on mine. She storms over, “Why are you wandering? Did you not hear the man?! What are you dumb?” She takes hold of my arm and storms to the stage with me in tow. “Stay here,” she says. “And do better than yesterday.” I stand as the first girl’s soundtrack plays over the speakers and as she grins and waves to her friends in the cloak of darkness from standing on the stage. I have no one to wave to. The stage lights come on and she takes flight, her arms soaring as she spins and twirls, this is why I love dance. I stand and fidget with my waistband on my leotard and reach up to my throbbing scalp. My hand pulls away and my eyes go wide as I look at the red tips of my fingers coated with blood. I look around and the girl from my dance class snickers, pointing at me. The show goes on, the music swelling and retreating like a tide. I am finally aware I am up next. The girls on stage end their dance and bow, walking off the stage, a hand lands on my shoulder pushing me forwards.
“Well, come on, girlie,” the man rasps, “I haven't got all day now.” I stumble onto the stage and stand, my heart racing as I wait for the music to start. The light clicks on, bathing me in light, blinding me, and my head throbs as papers shuffle and people cough in the audience. I turn to the wings and see the set man with an empty beer bottle in his hand taking a sip, looking sideways as he does, and I’m seven again. My dad lifts me into the air, my hands soaring through the empty space around us.
“My eagle,” he says. I giggle and he sets me down; the vision blurs and he is tumbling, staggering into our house, beer bottle in his hand, my mother shouts from a different room and I am falling. My head spins as I stand on the stage and all the emotions stored inside of me flow out, the music speaks to me as my arms circle the empty air around me and I take flight.
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