Misfits (#2)

62.

Violet.

Backstage is chaotic but makes me reminisce so much. The Boston Theatre is crammed full of people from the stall seats to the box seats above. Red velvet seats, glamorous blinding lights and lavishly dressed people filing in.

Only the affluent attend the ballet so there's a sea of faux leather shawls, designer suits and dresses, gorgeous men with their gorgeous wifes on their arm for the evening. I can feel the swell of anticipation beneath my rips, like a slowly inflating balloon.

Especially because press are packed into the space below the stage. The girls have already come over to me several times, gushing about how the cameramen keep whispering my last name.

The Amory ballerina's making her return tonight. Daughter of Scarlett Amory, who'd became the highest paid performing prima ballerina in the decade she flourished. Sister of Sage, Grayson and Azure Amory. Undoubtedly, there's pressure on my shoulders tonight.

But you'd be surprised to know how much I don't feel it. I never have allowed the pressure to penetrate me when I'm on stage. There was always buzz surrounding my presence on a stage as a kid so I became attuned to it. It was only background noise to what mattered to me most. Ballet. My only solace, for years where I found safety in nothing.

I'm poised, relaxed. My ribs jut out as I take mediated breaths.

The only thing that makes my skin prick is the fact that Everest's in this city. He's going to be here tonight. I saw the determination in his eyes, feel it within myself. Tonight's the night I want to go home, for good. Start my life with him. Tonight's the end and the beginning of it all.

Sat at the vanity after finishing my makeup, I check my phone for the two texts, and two people that snag my attention.

Val: you've so totally got this, ballerina. i'm pretty sure they're livestreaming it somewhere. i'm gonna find it right now. best of luck to you, bug! be the sexiest superwoman of them all! mwah, mwah, mwah!

Ria: you deserve to drop all of their jaws to the fucking floor. do exactly that. nobody gets to break you, ballerina.

I feel my heart light with warmth. Though they're so far away from me, I can almost feel their support and love as if it's a palpable thing enveloping me right now. I need my girl's encouragement more than anyone else's so I breathe their words in and repeat it in my head.

Nobody gets to break me.

There are a few more outfit and hair checks, pinning necessary pieces of my glitzy, feathery headpiece down. The tiara sits nicely, curving down on my forehead, almost like an arrow. My makeup's soft, glowy and light - just enough to accentuate the higher points of my face and add to the angel-like appearance of the white swan, Odette.

The pointe shoes Everest had bought me are wrapped tightly around my feet. They're the thing I stare at as everyone gets into formation behind the curtains, rows and rows of ballerinas. They're my small piece of him that I'm carrying onto stage. Right besides me.

Soon, the lights dim. A general, resounding hush casts over the large audience. The curtains open.

I hear my father's voice in my head. Like every performance as a child, before I gave up on it. On him. Let it take you to the sea, my bluebird.

And I do.

I make it onto the stage and eyes pierce me, the central character. I pluck each and everyone's attention, stealing it as my own for this evening where I'm beautifully weightless and effortlessly free. I perform, and dance. I silence them all and hypnotise with every curve of my body and leap across the immense stage.