Une Fleure Fanée

Week 4 Part 5 (Friday)

     I skip breakfast today. It's simple. You pocket your breakfast in your duffel bag and throw it away in the dancer's den. The first thing Ms. Abby decides to do is to work on the group dance. Brady's struggling with the side aerials because it turns out, Brady is a left-handed dancer.

     So she changes the side aerial for Brady so it's on his good side. If it was any of the girls, she would force them to learn. But Brady gets special treatment because he's a boy. I can't complain, however. It's not Brady's fault. It's Ms. Abby's decision.

     We can't focus after she changes the aerial because we can hear muffled screams coming out of the viewing box. And sure enough, Sarah's mom and Brady's mom are going at it. Then Brady's mom leaves the viewing box. Ms. Abby finds this a perfect time to allow us to try on our costumes.

     And then Brady's mom comes in the room suddenly and is complaining that the moms are yelling at her because Brady has some special treatment. Apparently "Stacey" is the one that set her off the most.

     Stacey is my Mom. Oh my god, I'm going to be in so much trouble. Ms. Abby is going to be so hard on me now. She's going to yell at me and body-shame me. And Mom can't do anything because I may get pulled from the team if she does. But soon she won't body-shame me because the skinnier I get, the more perfect I will be at dance. What I'm doing isn't a slow suicide. It's going to help me.

      Suddenly, we all have to do fifty push-ups because the moms want fair treatment. It's exercise at least. I can do a lot of pushups, probably more than the other kids can.

      I'm the first to finish, doing their fifty push-ups by the time they do about thirty. I sit on my knees, watching the other kids struggle and finish their fifty pushups. I shake out my arms, which are burning, but I don't lose my breath or break a sweat.

     I look behind me. Ms. Abby doesn't smile or have any emotion on her face, but I can tell that she's a bit confused on why the smallest and youngest kid has finished her push-ups first. If I could do one hundred push-ups with no break last night, I can do fifty today.

     I also glance at the viewing box. They are all staring at me, mumbling some inaudible stuff and pointing at me. I don't care. I don't have time to care. I have too much to control. If I can't control what Ms. Abby says or if she thinks I dance well enough, I can control how I look.

     Do more Lilliana. You don't want to stand out. My arms are too tired. I don't want to tire myself out the day before the competition. Over the next five minutes, all of the other kids sat up, out of breath, sweat forming on their foreheads. I don't have a drop of sweat.

      "Your moms want fair treatment. You got it. Now, I want to work with Pressley and Brady quickly before the bus gets here. Get out!" Ms. Abby yells at us as I sprint towards the door and hold it for everybody, leaving Pressley and Brady with Ms. Abby in the studio to work on their duet.

     We make sure we have everything we need in our suitcases. Then Hannah and I quickly go over our dance before the producers stop us. They call Pressley and Brady briefly into the dancer's den as well as the moms to discuss something.

     "Alright. So normally, you'd be rooming with another dancer at the hotel. Well, today we're going to try out something to see if we get some more natural drama between the moms. All the kids, including Brady, are going to share a single room. Moms are going to share another. We'll have staff checking in on the kids every hour. And the bus is here so let's get going," the producer announces as we have some uneasy looks passed around.

     I'm terrified. What if we get kidnapped? What if someone dies? What if... I can't think of that. All the moms are talking to their kids about safety and that if they need anything come to them, and Mom is no different.