Ephemeral

Chapter 1

Prologue

- Hey, pig!

Usually, always after this phrase, a piece of crumpled paper or a chewed, slobbery gum flew at me. And this time is no exception. I have already clenched my hand into a fist and prepared for what is coming. The bell rang, the lesson was over, and I had to go down to the dining room for lunch. Walking down the corridor, I got one trip, two kicks and the same amount coming back. And so, once again I have to take my jacket out of the trash and collect my pencils from the floor, putting them back in my torn pencil case. My jacket has also never been left without attention. After classes, I always found her on the floor, trampled by dirty shoes. Classmates were always whispering behind my back, coming up with new ways to have fun. This time they decided to hammer me with snow boulders on the way home. But I was already used to covering my face with my hands and was ready. It was a feeling that made me want to sink through the ground, cease to exist. But I steadfastly endured each new blow. Suddenly, someone abruptly grabbed me by the hood from behind, and I began to fall. The colors began to blur... I open my eyes and wake up in another reality.

Chapter 1

The nightmare again. It looks like you can exhale. This dream was just a small episode of what I had to face in the school years of my life. I've heard nicknames like ugly or pig more often than my real name. I have always been silent, and I have never told my foster mother, Rosa, about the bullying. She lives in a small suburb, near Montreal, and adopted me at the age of three. Rosa is a rather cold and complicated person, but she took care of me as best she could. In any case, I am grateful to her for everything. When I turned eleven, Rosa sent me to study at a choreographic boarding school, where I spent seven years, and after that, I came out as a professional ballerina. During the many years that I studied at the boarding school, ballet has penetrated deeply into my heart. It's hard to say that it was my choice, but I like what I do. Ballet is an elegant art that requires great strength, and at the same time, airy grace. This is hard work, which takes a huge amount of time and effort. But personally, I think it's worth it. It's eight o'clock in the morning, it seems it's time to get ready for rehearsal. I got out of bed, took a shower and cleaned myself up. But the slight dizziness still did not leave me. After brewing a mug of strong coffee, I started eating freshly brewed unleavened oatmeal. When you dance in the theater, you have to strictly limit yourself in nutrition, so for me, diet is a habitual state. After finishing breakfast and collecting everything I needed, I went to the theater. It was sunny outside, a light and warm August wind roamed the streets of Montreal. The noisy and big city was crowded with people, and at the stops road dust rose endlessly into the air, with an admixture of automobile gas. One moment, and now I'm standing at the door of the theater. Walking along the familiar and dilapidated corridors, I briefly greeted all the artists and dancers I had known for a long time. And so, I enter the rehearsal class, and the whole troupe is already assembled. In the ventilated hall, filled with a slight coolness, there was also a faint smell of chalk and wooden looms. I begin to stretch my legs and put on old and battered pointe shoes, and then Matt comes up to me, wanting to talk to me:

- Jennifer, good morning, - Matt said modestly.

- Oh, hello.

- There will be a production of "Don Quixote" today, are you ready?

- I think I'm ready, and after all, I don't dance solo so I have to worry too much, - I said with a slight smile.

- You're right, but I'm still a little nervous...

- Well, just relax and rehearse well, - I replied, trying to end the conversation.

As soon as I put on pointe shoes, the main choreographer, Monica, suddenly bursts into the class. She is a very strict and demanding woman, so we always try to do our best in her presence. In a commanding and authoritative tone , she announced: