In the Shadows - DIVERGENT HIGH

Chapter 10

Claps tingle through my red speckled hands, tired already from showing appreciation for my fellow performers. Claping is a wierd concept: clashing your hands together to create a noise which shows appreciation for an act or performance. My thoughts, I know, are exclusively to distract my conscious mind from the irregular beats of my heart. Seated at the back of the hall, with all of the other performers, I don't get a decent view of the competition. A shiver trickles down my bare spine: I am dressed in a vibrant cerise leotard with straps laced up the back and a mini translucent skirt that just reaches halfway down my thighs. I wrap my shaking arms around my sides feeling uncomfortably exposed. My eyes wander to the program that is lying lazily on my lap. Morgan Griffiths - counting stars/timber guitar medley then Michelle Thomas - public speaking: ....... and finally Beatrice Prior - ballet pointe solo.

I am not ready! There are many problem zones for my dance because it is new - I learned it a week ago - and I am preparing it for the next dance festival in the October half term* which is just under a month away so I would have plenty of time for polishing and mastering my piece.

*(semester for any American people)

I close my eyes firmly and block out the music around me as I did many a time in my old school...

Flashback

A shiver shook my shoulders as I stood at the back of the playground. I was 10 years old, year 6, in the final crowning year of primary school. I knew that I would remember this year the most of all my school years but I had an uneasy feeling burried deep in my stomach that the memories made will be memories that I would rather forget.

Rhianna, the queen of our year, strode up to me. "Beatrice you are different. But not really good different. You know you are a fail. You have never been asked out: nobody takes a second glance at you. You are nobody. You are not even clever. Look at you, alone. I will leave you in a second. I wouldn't be talking to you if I didn't feel so sorry for you. You have nothing, nothing. No friends, no looks, no talents, nothing. You might as well leave now, I mean it's not a life I would want to live. What is there to live for? In fact, I think I would rather die. What do you have?"
"I have a heart." I mumbled, hoping she wouldn't notice I had said anything. As usual, I was out of luck.
"What did you say to me?" Tierra snarled rather like a bulldog at a kitten who had stolen its meal.
I decided to fight back, I lifted my eyes to her and said with more force: I have a heart.
Her fist connected with my mouth, forcing my uneven teeth to cut into the lip. Heat flushed the contact zone and blood trickled down my pale, freckled chin.
"Oh sorry. Sit at the back of the class, no one will notice and you will get off lightly." She said, her voice like frozen steel.

*The performance*

I walk on stage. Take a deep breath. Open my shoulders. The music - too loud - vibrates through the hall like a wasp at the window. I jerk into motion, my movements clumsy, careless. That's when I realise that if I know I can do it, if I think about it, perfect it as I go, I could have a chance if I wish to seize it. So I do.

Suddenly I feel my body come to life. I feel the flow of the movement, use the gravity, the energy, the timidity and dance every step to the end, making sure that not one is neglected. By the end of the dance, I am sweating but I know that I did well. The volume of the crowd drowns out all emotion and I laugh, my heart letting go of its cords. Free.

I walk to centre stage and raise my arm, take a curtsy to the judges and to the audience before skipping off behind the curtains.

"Is there anything you can't do?" I hear an insistence in the voice behind me and I swivel on the spot to find its owner. Christina. That surprises me. "Er yes I... um... I'm bad at Biology like REALLY bad at it." I stutter, taken aback by her compliment.
"I find that hard to believe. Listen, there is no way you aren't moving to the next round."
I am sure she perceives the fall in my expression because she raises her brows and asks, "Didn't you know there's a next round? Well sorry to tell you now but it is private, tomorrow. It's a head to head: all the ones that have gone through today will have to compete against another act of similar genre. That way they cut down to half the amount and ultimately have more variety. And, by the way, you have to perform a new routine." She smiles apologetically, pats my shoulder and saunters away.

Why had Amar or Tori not told me? Was this information only disclosed to the performers now? I shake my head, there's nothing I can do but work on another routine for tomorrow. Goodness knows what the heck will happen.

A/N Hey I updated! I really want to thank everyone for 512 VIEWS!!!! @BananaFoot for asking me to update. I know it is very late but it does exist