Breaking Point [Watty's 2015]

The Before

At first, I felt really good about my audition. I was really proud of how well I did.

Five days later, though, we got a call. From the academy.

"H-hello?" I said into the phone, trying to sound professional (and failing miserably).

"Yes, hello, I'm Judy Wikeltz, calling from the admissions board of the Junior Dancers of America Academy. Is Aria home?"

"Speaking, ma'am." I said slowly.

"Hello, Aria. We at Junior Dancers of America regret to inform you that you did not make the cut for the openings here at the academy."

My heart sunk down to my toes. I couldn't believe this was happening.

No, this isn't happening.

No. Not happening.

No.

"However..." the machine-like voice from the phone began.

I waited, motionless, terrified to get my hopes up.

"...you were well noted by our representiative judges, and we wish to inform you that there is another set of tryouts in May. Let's see, that would be about...three months from now. We encourage you to audition. Good luck, and have a great day."

Judy's voice was cut off by the sound of the phone's waiting tone, and I turned around to look at my parents, who were behind me.

"Oh, sweetie..." my mother began.

"Hey, at least you might make the second auditions," my ever-peppy father interjected. My mother smacked his arm, signaling him to shut up.

"We both think you were amazing at those audi..." 

I zoned out the sound of my mother's monologue and ran upstairs to my bedroom, and slammed the door behind me.

This

didn't

just

happen.

No.

No.

No.

There was a ringing in my ears as I hugged my knees to my chest and began to sob. Nothing mattered anymore.

Nothing.

I let out one final hiccupy sob and stood up abruptly.

I have to make those second auditions, I told myself. It's not an option anymore.

I will. I have to. I have no choice.

Looking around my room, head still spinning, I searched for a reason. WHY didn't they accept me? Why not? I deserved it more than anyone. 

The anger inside be bubbled. I was furious. There had to be another reason, other than my dancing.

I stopped in front of my mirror -- a mistake I wish I never had made.

I looked at myself. Another mistake.

And I looked down

at my stomach

and thighs

and decided that 

this was the reason.

They didn't accept me, because they hated the way I looked.