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"-PLEASED TO ANNOUNCE AKIRA HAS BEEN CHOSEN FOR THE ROLE OF THE SYLPH-"
VANESSA was fuming.
If she was in one of those old, animated shows, there'd be steam shooting out of her ears and she'd burst in flames and burn everyone in the studio without any remorse. Hear their screams and walk out, hell, she'd set the whole place ablaze.
But she wasn't.
And she couldn't.
The sound of applause and cheers filled her ears, aiding in only fueling her repressed anger. AKIRA was in the corner, tearing up almost, spilling thank you's and taking in every hug the girls around her gave.
Not Vanessa.
She stayed put in her spot, biting back on her tongue so hard it could bleed, lips forced into a tight, small smile.
Her hands clapped twice before returning them to her sides, trying hard not to let her glare show. God, if looks could kill.
She shouldn't be mad. She should be glad, happy for Akira. Vanessa can't help it, though. Can't help the vile that builds up in her throat with every congratulations and 'You deserved it!'.
All fake, of course.
Ballet is a competitive sport, nobody is your friend there. You're all fighting for roles, fighting to make a name in the industry. There were only a few good and genuine people that weren't also fuming with jealousy and thinking up ways to sabotage the lead, none that Vanessa necessarily was friends with.
