I spin on pointe, the rotations in time with the classical notes crooning from the stereo in the large studio.
But before I can reach the twenty-fifth spin, I misstep, tumbling down to the wooden floor, breaking me out of the routine for the second time today.
I don’t dare look up or allow the pain to show on my face, knowing that it’s coming in three…two…
“What was that?” my ballet teacher, Ms. Veronica or rather, Ms. Voldemort yells at me.
And there it is.
“I’m sorry. I think I’m just…”
“Just what, Mia?”
I don’t even know…
See, so much is riding on this, but my mind just isn’t in the game today. Not after mopping up my mother’s vomit and seeing Julian’s sweaty body in the kitchen right before coming here for practice.
He stared at me when I came down to fill my bottle with ice chips, but he didn’t say a word.
Good.
“Here you go again, giving excuses,” Ms. V. huffs. “Can you do it, yes or no? I have other girls that can replace you just like that.”
The snap of her fingers is the go ahead the girls in my ballet class need to start snickering at me, whispering among themselves.
Shooting them my best fuck you smile, they shut up. All of them know better than to be on my shit list.
I’m the bitch that makes or breaks them, and they know it. But that doesn’t matter because if I don’t get this routine right, I won’t land the most coveted ballet gig to perform on the stage of the Paris Opera Ballet company.
“I lost my footing is all,” I mumble, keeping my voice as polite as ever, as I look at my ballet teacher.
“You can do better than, I don’t know, lose your footing!” she spits, the look on her face as dark & thunderous as the dark clothes she always wears to match her dark soul. “Get up and do it again, for God’s sake! We don’t have time to kiss your ass.”
I don’t take offense to that. Pushing past the pain, I get up, ignoring the intense scrutiny and judgement in the room. I suck in a deep breath, tightening my stomach. My toes are killing me as I get into position once again, daring to look up into the large mirror in front of me, knowing that I’ll find a steely pair of eyes staring back at me.
“What are you waiting for?” the harsh voice barks once again, and I almost tremble. Almost. But I stay put. I won’t mess this up by showing that I’m scared shitless.
“I was just—”
“Stop making excuses and execute the routine. We’ve been working on this for months now.”
I close my eyes, seeing each step in my head since I’ve only practiced it like all my life. Getting on one pointed foot, I balance all my weight there, then delicately raise my arms. Tilting my head back as gracefully as I can, I start spinning, knowing that I have to hit at least thirty-two of these spins.
“Stay graceful. Your body has to be agile. If you dare shift out of line the whole thing will be rubbish! Utter rubbish!”
I try to drown out Ms. Voldemort’s voice but it’s so damn loud. I swear when I’m asleep I can still hear her voice demanding, barking out instruction, correcting everything I do. She’s more critical of me than of other girls. For obvious reasons.
“This is pathetic. Stay in tune with the notes!”
Bringing my hands up, I make sure I don’t strain my foot with all my weight as I try to find an equilibrium.
“More,” she barks. “Give it more passion, Mia. You look like a you’ve got a stick up your ass.”
I’m already worn out, and I’m in so much pain, but I keep going.
Thirteen.
Fourteen.
Fifteen spins…
I have to nail this.
I have to live up to the impossible, high standard that has been set for me before I was ever conceived.
Mom did it. She rose out of nothing and paved a way for herself, making sure that the whole world knew her name. Now it’s my turn, And I have to do it before…
My chest tightens. For a moment I can’t catch my breath and I’m feeling woozy. I lost count of my steps. Opening my eyes, I’m blinded for a second by the light streaming in from the large windows of the studio. For a brief irrational moment, I think that bright light is here to take my mother.