Running Out of Time

Chapter Eleven

Lia returned after two days, and then avoided me like the plague. Even when I tried to intercept her in the hallways, she stayed permanently glued to her friends' sides, and whenever I got too close, they hissed at me and called me slurs and batted me off. I tried desperately to catch her eye, but she always looked away guiltily, and after a few days, I got the message: I don't want you anymore.

I wasn't sure what to do with my nights anymore. I couldn't fall asleep, and instead, I stayed awake, staring at the ray of moonlight that occasionally fell in through the window onto the floor, reminding me, taunting me, with the dwindling moonlight we had left, that I had left.

Our duet had been cancelled. Apparently, Lia's parents had called and demanded it to be so. Instead, we were both doing solos. We had barely over a week to choreograph everything. I couldn't bear to act happy anymore, so I chose something sad and morose. I purposefully let Lia see how miserable she was making me, and whenever she looked at me, I knew she was hurting, and I felt bitter triumph snake inside my heart.

But even then, there was no winning the battle. Under the privacy of the nights, I cried sometimes, but mostly, I stewed in sadness and bitter hatred for the hatred the world bestowed upon us for loving one another. I grew tired and haunted, and I ignored every single one of my parents' calls. Whenever she called the front desk, the lady must've taken sympathy on me, because she never forwarded them to me. I was grateful for the one friend I had made.

From the mess of things that had descended, a couple of people came forward to support me. But even then, from the world, it was too little, too late. A couple of people taunted me, hissed at me from the protection of the shadows lies and bitter slurs.

I could not win. The world triumphed against me, tearing my happiness away from me when I'd received word that I'd been enrolled at Victoria Bergen School of Dance for the school year, a secret that had been kept from me for a while. My mother was taunting me, surely, forcing me to remember and dwell upon the memories I'd made for the rest of the year.

The final performance loomed even closer. Time seemed to slow down, mocking me as well, forcing me to live every moment in which Lia was so tantalizingly close, yet so far away. I could've spent the time railing at the unfairness of the world and weeping and stewing in my misery, but instead I tried to make the time pass and utilize my spiteful energy by working on my solo. I'd decided to use the piece I had used to audition for the summer program and work on it, improving it with the new skills I'd learned. I wondered if the admissions officers would see it for what it was: a sucking up to them. Even though I'd already had a spot secured for me, I was playing teacher's pet, giving them a perfect before and after view of my progress throughout the summer under their training.

The day before the final performance dawned, and I worked on my solo. There were no classes that day, leaving everyone for final preparations. I went to rehearsal for the team dance, and then spent the rest of the day, alone in a studio, pacing around and perfecting with manic energy.

Then the day of the final performance dawned. It was scheduled for this evening, and parents were going to come over, and some smaller companies and other important people came to watch. Students were to meet their parents, but as far as I was concerned, they weren't my parents. Still, a teacher forced me to come, and when I spotted my mother in the corner of the room, their faces stony, I flipped them the bird and disappeared back into my dorm. No one was stupid enough to try to drag me back.

When the evening came, I put on the costume for our group dance, applying makeup. I watched Lia from across the dressing room, watching her dull expression and her blank eyes as she put on mascara and eyeliner and eyeshadow. Then, her eyes flickered to me, and a multitude of emotions flitted across her face before she shut down again. I couldn't possibly feel triumphant at seeing her so defeated. I turned my gaze back to my own mirror when one of Lia's cronies snapped at me.

The group dances were early on in the first half of the showcase. They all went smoothly, but I could see that Lia's movements lacked that emotion they usual displayed so proudly. I took advantage of the intermission to discreetly wait behind the admissions officers in line for refreshments to listen to them. Apparently, many of them had come to see Lia, and she'd lacked the energy she'd shown before. I hoped she would give her solo her all, because it could quite possibly be the last time she danced onstage.

My solo was a few performances before Lia's, in the second half of the showcase. When I walked onstage and the lights shone upon me, I felt strangely numb. I felt as though I'd watched myself dance from outside of my body. My movements were fluent and coordinated and I didn't make a single mistake, but it didn't feel authentic to me. Instead, it was drained of emotion and artistic ability, even more so than usual. It was as though someone'd taken the essence of dance, squeezed it clear of every drop of artistic beauty, and then picked out the bones and assembled it in my dance.

Afterwards, a couple of people smiled at me, a couple of people sneered at me, but I didn't notice it as I snuck into the audience and settled down in time to watch the performance before Lia's end.

Lia walked in, and what immediately struck me was the smudged nature of her makeup. It looked vaguely like she'd been crying a little, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. Had I done that to her?

I thought back to earlier. Had I seen Lia interacting with her parents? They probably hadn't come, like usual. Sadness swallowed me, and I felt a vague sense of pity, which I immediately tried to squash; she wouldn't have wanted me feeling that way.

The song began with quiet, contemplative chords as she began. It was innocent, unburdened, and had a light quality to it, like a feather drifting through the air.

But then quickly, it changed into something richer, more resonant and beautiful and she seemed to soar through the air before she suddenly tumbled to the ground, accompanied by silence in the music.

The audience began muttering, but I realized before everyone else that it was on purpose, and I think I knew the story she was telling. Slowly, she peeled herself off of the floor, as the music continued, heavy, so thick that it felt that you could drown in it. Her movements seemed to mimic the sound quality, mournful, slow, as though she was drowning. The music faded, and so seemed her life force as she sank to the ground and ended—just like how she would die and wither away from memory. Forgotten, insignificant, small, even though in life she had been big, she had even been the entire world to people like me.

There was complete silence in the audience. And then, one person began to clap. I dimly registered that it was me. Other people began to join in, and people were rising from the seats to give her a standing ovation. When she rose from her ending pose to bow to the audience, her chest was rising and falling quickly, but not from loss of breath; it was from barely stifled sobs. She rushed off the stage, and the applause ended after another minute.

I snuck out of my seat and back into the dressing room.

"Lia?" I whispered. Everybody was either waiting in the wings or in the audience, so there was no one left in the dark dressing room. I thought I heard a faint rustling noise. I felt along the walls for the light switch and turned them on.

I looked around. There was nobody in the dressing room, the only thing left in here neatly packed bags lining the edge of the walls. The tables had been cleared, even mine, and there was no sign of life. I could've sworn there was already a layer of dust on the tables.

It was almost as though it'd all been a dream.