Oct 19
fiction challenge: Dancer
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I hopped, then did a quick pirouette. I had mastered this routine. It didn’t matter if I messed up. No one would see. I was in the back where I was usually placed. In the dark. I stopped. The girl next to me flicked her head to face me. Her black hair was tied up in a tight bun. The instructor motioned for her to come to the front of the stage. She glared at me like she was disgusted and then skipped up to the front. She danced in the bright lights as the audience cheered. A feeling ached inside of me. Jealousy. I thought. I wouldn't let it get the best of me. “That's it.” I said to myself.

That night at dinner I announced that I was quitting dance. My parents looked like they would try to change my mind but they knew I had made my decision. It was against  my heart's desire but this was final. I was quitting. No one would notice anyway. Once I went to my room, all I could do was dance but I couldn't. I was done. 

The next morning I felt miserable. No goals to reach. No routines to practice. I trudged around the house and then slouched on the couch. My little sister Ivy waddled into the room. “Sad?” She asked. I was silent. I didn’t feel like talking. “Lalala. Bababa!” She sang as she twisted and shook to her own beat.“You missen dance class, aren't you?” she questioned.

“No!” I said loud and clear.

“Don’t you love to dance? I know you miss dancing,” she said. “Come on you know you want to…” She tried to convince me. 

Without me trying, my feet started  tapping on the wooden floor. My arms started to sway. Ivy’s sweet voice filled the room. Before I knew it, I was on my feet tapping and swaying to the beat. In my head I saw myself on the stage in the front with the crowd cheering my name. “Rose! Rose!” I could hear them saying. I ran to the door, slipped on my shoes, grabbed my bag and bolted out. “You're right. I'm late,” I called as I ran across the street. I opened the door. All eyes were on me but not in a good way. 

Before I knew it, it was time to see who would be dancing in what position for our next big show. “Bella Selano, farstage back right,” Our instructor called out. He continued to go on and on. My name wasn’t said. 

“Katie Brown, front left. And the lead dancer…” The silence held for what felt like forever. “Rose Brook.” He finally said. That was me!! I proudly walked up and danced.

 
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About the Author: Chook
Chelsey Hook
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