Where Dance Fits In

Chapter 26: Mood Swings

Miss Laurie
There are voices screaming, objects are flying everywhere. There are crashes and people seem to be shouting Reagan's name too loudly.
If you can picture the seen, you'd probably think it resembles something of the Civil War.
But to an Irish Dancer, this is the reaction you get every time you hurt yourself. Imagine all that attention.
The funny thing is, I've experienced so many breaks, sprains, fractures, and bruises, that I've become emotionally callous to people falling down. Now it's just a bit if a routine.
But that's one downside of being an Irish Dance teacher.
There are many pluses like seeing your dancer succeed, or making up a new step. Hey, even putting on great parties like these is even one.
But I wouldn't put this party on the 'Best Parties Ever' list. No, no. This belongs on the 'Worst, Saddest, most annoying nieces Party Ever' list.
The only reason why Reagan went down in the first place is because she of Emily. Emily pushed, poked, and yanked at Reagan in every way, shape, or form she could think of. All because of a boy. My boy, now that I come to think of it.
But is it really worth it, being so mean and nasty for one person? No. It's not. It never will be.
Lizzy has always been a great sister. She always let me borrow her favorite sweaters even though she was older than me. She let me come to the movies with her friends, and she gave me advice on friends or boys. She was my best friend. But where did she go wrong with Emily?
Emily is usually a nice, kind, hilarious girl that can put a smile on your face no matter what. Now instead of a smile, it's a frown.
I love her, just not right now. Yeah, I saw the way she looked at Kyle, saw the way she looked at Reagan when she talked to Kyle. She was jealous, at least that's what I presumed. But I think something bigger is going on here, as big as 9th grade drama can get.
But now there are more important things on my mind like Reagan, and how she has just taken a pretty bad fall.
The ambulance arrives (yeah, it's that bad) and takes Reagan, her parents, Conner, and myself to the hospital. It wasn't too long ago that we were going for Connor's problems.
Reagan is just lying there, moaning, as the paramedic checks in her.
"Looks like she's twisted it pretty bad." He says. "Ma'm, are you the mother?" "Yes." Reagan's mom answers shakily. "Please state your full name and current city you are living in." The paramedic is all business type, with the gelled hair, pager, smartphone, all equipped neatly in his belt. He looks more like he should be in Wall street than in an ambulance.
Conner gets a text. "Maeve and Brooklyn want to know how Reagan is doing." Conner says. "Tell them she will be fine, just a large tear in a major tendon." The paramedic continues with his work. "That doesn't seem fine." Conner says, but he texts back anyways.
I've never liked hospitals. They always bring back sour memories of times you want to forget.
When my mom died, the nurse helping her wouldn't even let me in. She said "Sorry hon. You're to young and too germy to be in the room." I was so mad. I never even got a chance to say goodbye.
But that's in the past.
The last time I was at a hospital was for Conner. They told him he would never be able to dance again. Conner showed them. I know he will have to stop soon, before the disease gets worse. But for now, I just want him to enjoy the time he has left.
They rush Reagan into a room and shut the door before any of us can get in. Mr. And Mrs. Donahue seem really stressed, and Conner just seems upset.
"Let's go downstairs." I say to Conner. "Maybe a pudding will get your mind off things."
We walk down the steps and we head up to the cafeterias order counter. "Two puddings, please." I say. Conner is sitting down at table next to a large potted plant.
"Hey kid." I say to him, handing him the pudding. He eats it in a few bites. It's kind of thick, so I take my time swallowing it down.
"You want to tell me what's up?" I ask him. He's silent and just continues to stair at the door of Reagan's room. He finally says "Do you really think I'm okay to dance?" I'm a little bit taken aback but this, but I say "I think you should enjoy your dancing for as long as you can." He doesn't looked convinced, so I continue. "Remember when Elijah was training for Worlds?" He nods. "Remember how hard he was practicing?" "Yeah." He says. "But then at one practice he fell and tore his ACL?" "Is this supposed to make me feel better?" Conner says sadly. "The point is," I say, "Elijah didn't give up after that. After it was completely healed," "After about a year and six months." He interrupts. "Yeah okay." I say. "But after that, he got up on the stage, and won! He won Worlds!" I see a slight change in Conner's mood.
He smiles.
"See." I say. "Just because you can't dance now, doesn't mean you can't dance later. And just because you can't dance later, doesn't mean you can't dance now."
Conner seems a bit more motivated so we head up to Reagan's room.