Chapter 2: Pop

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As soon as I get home I go to the shower and scrub off all the days work. A dancers life isn't always the stage makeup, if only people knew what it took to look "cute."

When I'm done, I check my phone. Two text messages, 7 snapchats, 9 tumblr updates, and 1 missed call. I open up the texts:

The first one's from Ryan, my boyfriend: 

       Hey Dance Shoes

I reply:

      Hey, wyd?

The second one's from Ari:

      #dancerfeet?

My oblivious answer is:

    #awfuldancerfeet!

It's a little thing we do after a horrible dance session.

After that I put on my Under Amour sweat shirt and my floral legging and head to the kitchen. I open the fridge and take out a plum, sit at counter and scroll through my snapchat.

When Mom comes home, she has tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong, Mom?" I drop my plum and walk over to her.

  "He left us." She goes up stairs and I hear the shower start running.

  I know who she is talking about, Dad.




      


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