dancing in the stars (ballerina x singer wlw romance)

chapter eleven

SUMMER

I am dead.
Well, I'm not dead yet but I don't think I'm alive either. I'm sure there are tears leaking from my eyes but I'm so exhausted I can't feel them. My chest raises and falls heavily, my heart wants to jump out of my chest and I don't know if my feet are bleeding or it's just me sweating.

"Again." her voice is rough, she fills the air with the smoke of the cigarette between her fingers. I've been coughing and drowning myself in it for the past hour.

"I can't–"

"I didn't ask, Bennett."

My lips part like I'm ready to scream at her, clenching my fists, I almost do but I think better of it. It's almost over, just a little bit more and I'm done. She claps her hands rushing me to the middle of the room and starts the music. Madame doesn't even give me a second to find my position, she doesn't care– all she wants from me is power and success. A ballerina always needs to be ready for what's coming.
Forcing myself to give her more than I can, I dance through every movement, every position is perfect, every breath I take, every pirouette. I've done this so many times, I could probably do it in my sleep so I don't mind the tears blurring my view. I dance to the classical music for the seven minutes of my performance. At the third minute, ballerinas are supposed to join me but they were lucky enough to leave early– they always do, while I've been stuck here for six hours, again.

I finish the dance with a heavy chest, closing my eyes accidentally letting a tear fall that I immediately brush away. I look in the mirror– I might not be dead just I sure as hell look like it.

"Beautiful." Madame's voice fills the room. "Your acting and expression are amazing, the dancing is great." I listen without even blinking, sensing a 'but' in her tone.
"But, you're... getting weak, and it's unprofessional. I need the better version of yourself, and this is not it. You're distracted. I can tell you are. Is there something on your mind?"

Millions of things. "No, I feel fine."

"It's school, isn't it? A profesional ballerina can't afford to go to college. I understand this is what you wanted but you have to focus on dancing, you won't need a degree when you reach the stars." she moves around the room until she gets to her bag and I blow out a sigh of relief. She's letting me go.
"You're young. Wanting to experience the University life it's part of everyone's life but perhaps you should take a break. Dancing is your life."
I don't say anything, I listen. I can't because she doesn't like to hear me talk. "You're eighteen, the youngest girl to ever perform Odette in the Swan Lake. I'm very proud of you but get your head in the character. Distracted ballerinas don't get trophies." she turns around, ready to leave me alone but stops for a second. "And Summer... Go to the gym or stop eating so many carbs. The costume is being made and you have to fit into it." she stares at my body with a wrinkled nose. "I'll see you tomorrow. Stay, dance some more, go to the gym and get some sleep." she closes the door behind her and the entire room falls into silence.

My knees hit the floor hard and loud, making me wince in pain. I take off my point shoes, massaging my feet after I do. I look at the mirror, my soft pink leotard and my ballet skirt cling to my body like a second skin. Stop eating so many carbs. I haven't. I don't remember the last time I ate real food– I'm surviving with a protein bar a day and lots of water. I miss my mom's food. I miss Lauren's cupcakes and cookies. God, I can't even remember the last time I had a cheeseburger, but I can't.
I grab my bag, pulling out my hair brush and I let down my hair. It's been killing my head since Madame makes us put our hair up tightly with a lot of hair spray to keep it in place.
I wince when I place the hairbrush on my hair, noticing how weak I'm getting. Maybe she's right. I am weak.