Don't Think Twice

Ch 18: Tippy toes and twirls.

Hey! so this chapter focuses a little bit more on Airi's mad dance skills. I promise there will be some more romance later on. They both aren't totally whipped. :) COMMENT, FAN, and VOTE. I NEEEEEEDD FEEEDBACK! :P

radhika

Chapter 18: Airi

                It had been weeks since our little get-together. I was busy out of my mind and I really wanted to see Liam.  The only time we saw each other was in class but we sat a mile apart. I’d see him today. At least I hoped.

                The ballet audition was today and I was hyperventilating. First of all, stupid me decided to pick one of the hardest routines to perform to the judges. Not only did all the steps force me to go on point, but I was spinning continuously; with no break. During practice, I did fine. I just know something will go wrong in this audition. I was already at the studio, the audition number taped to my chest. Since there was no formal line, I thought it would be best if I practiced a little.

                Being number 203, I had a long way to go. I walked to the studio, opening the door to see it was empty. I placed my bag and I down to stretch out all imperfections in my joints.

 When I was through with that, I took an hour to practice my pirouettes, twirling on my toes with swift, sharp turns. My balance was there, but my speed was falling behind. I stopped, abruptly, slamming my foot against the floor to vent frustration. I started again, keeping in mind, all the aspects to performing the ideal pirouette. After about fifty, I let it go, knowing that with an audience, I would be more serious.

I moved on to other steps, more precisely, my jumps. Although it was difficult doing these without a partner, at least the style I was doing, there were some in my audition routine I couldn’t screw up on, whatsoever. I started on my toes, beginning with the series of steps before that one move. As I inched closer and closer to the jump, I distracted myself, creating the image of viewers in front of me. Usually, this helped when I was having panic attacks. Most people fear, the sight of big crowds watching. I’m the complete opposite, unfortunately. I “glided” and pushed off the floor. A second later, I ended the jump with a graceful land on my flat feet, picking myself back on my toes.

“HELL YES!” I yelled, the studio echoing my screech. Twenty minutes later, I got ready to leave. Over practicing was a major negative for me. I grabbed my things and left the unoccupied room. As I got out, I saw the line had shortened by a bit. Number 198 was up and out the door came a chubby girl about my age, her head in her hands, I assumed, crying.

She sat next to me, bawling. Tears were seeping out of the gaps of her fingers.

“Um, hey. It’ll be alright, whatever happened. You…want to talk about it?” She looked up as I asked, revealing chocolate brown eyes, and rosy pink cheeks.

“They, they said…they said I was…too fat.” She sniffled between words, turning redder when she said the last line. That really sucked. It doesn’t really matter what body type you are. The fact that you are a really good dancer should be the standards.

“You heard wrong. They probably said you’re too hot. Look at yourself. You’re on fi-yah!” I replied, trying to relieve the tension, but most likely failing.

“Fi-yah? Haha, nice one. Thanks by the way. I’m Leslie. You are?”

“Airi. Nice to meet you.” She wiped her face with a Kleenex from her purse and sighed. “Don’t worry about those douche bags. They don’t know what they skipped out on.”