Behind The Glass Door

Chapter 5

Lacy:

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I avoided Riley as much as possible after my incident with her.

I know she'd assume and that's why I was avoiding her. No one just flinches and starts to cry when another person calls them pretty.

So she either thought I was abused when I was little or I'm just some weirdo who can't take a compliment.

I shook my head as I wrapped my toes in cotton, Elliot putting on his flat shoes beside me.

"Okay, everyone come in," the same man who signed me in said, standing in the doorway of the studio.

Elliot led me to the wooden barre in the back of the room that I tried to stay as far away from as possible.

"Bonjour! I'm Mr. Allard and I'll be your pointe teacher this year, there are other pointe teachers of course, such as Ms. Auclair who will mainly be the only other teacher but sometimes you'll see Mr. Bernard," he smiled.

"Well let's start with a simple warm-up. I don't want to wear any of you out yet," he winked, "Okay, everyone grab onto the barre and do tondu, devant, seconde, derriere, and seconde again," he smiled.

"I want to get a feel of your leg extensions," he smiled.

We all did as we were told, in sync as our foot slid out in front, closing back in first before sliding out to second, closing in first, and then going to the back and closing in first. Over and over until he told us to switch legs.

To which we did it again, and again, and again.

Front, side, back.

The whole class we just did warm-ups, some small routines, nothing serious.

"That was a lot less serious than I thought," I chuckled to Elliot after the class finished.

"They go easy the first class," he said.

"I think I'm just gonna practice at the studio," I nodded.

"Ok, go crazy," he chuckled.

"Thanks, I will," I smiled.

He left to go up the stairs and I went into one of the free studios.

The lights were dim in the studio, the windows looking outside while the sun began to set. I stared at myself in the mirror, my black leotard with black tight shorts and tights that were soft on my legs, my hair pulled back into a ponytail that was barely held together with how many turns I did.

I stood in first position, looking at my legs as I tried to fix them to look better in the mirror. I spent years working on my body. If I wasn't at school, doing my homework, studying, or dancing I was spending the rest of it working out at the gym.

Yet I still hated my body, my face, my hair. I found a flaw in every part of me. My shoulders were too broad, my back wasn't smooth enough, my arms were too thin, my calves weren't good enough, my thighs were too gummy, too thick, too flexed, my torso was too wide as were my hips, and I wasn't skinny enough, my jawline wasn't sharp enough, my eyes were sleepy, not wide, my hair was dull and lifeless, my cheeks were too chubby, my lips were too thin, and my whole body was wrong.

I fiddled with my fingers in the mirror, sweat building up on my body from dancing previously, as another hand grabbed at the extra skin on my thighs.

"Lacy?" a voice snapped me out of my daze, ripping my hand away from my thigh.

I snapped my head around to see Riley, mentally face-palming when I saw her.

"Hey can we talk?" she asked.

"Uhm- I was just practicing-" I cut myself off nervously.

"Right, well, I just wanted to say sorry if I made you nervous or flustered last week when you were doing my cut," she said, one hand in her pocket as she stood at the studio door, another hand motioning toward the bandage on her face.

"You didn't make me nervous or flustered, don't be so full of yourself," I said, going to the opposite side of the room to grab my wrap sweater and my bag.

"Okay well you were just acting off," she said.

"I was overwhelmed," I lied.

"I could tell, I just wanted to say sorry for triggering that," she said.

"Thank you," I nodded.

"You're welcome, you wanna talk about it or something?" she suggested awkwardly.

"No," I rushed to say.

"Okay, okay, it's fine just trying to help," she chuckled lowly.

"Since when did you want to help me?" I asked, my face remaining numb.

"I...don't know," she shrugged, tight-lipped, hands buried in her pockets.

"Because I had a panic attack in front of you so know you feel weird around me, so you feel pressure to help?" I asked quietly, head down.

"Well I wouldn't-" she stopped herself to find words, "Yeah that's it exactly," she chuckled.

"Yeah, I get it, but don't feel pressured to help," I said.

"Yeah it'd make this weird," she said awkwardly.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

I hauled my duffel bag on my shoulder and she walked dangerously close to my face.

"We can't be friends, we never will be," she said quietly, looking me in the eye.

She walked away before I could say anything.