𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

𝟐 | 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐞

Antoinette

Goosebumps spread rapidly across my skin while the soothing sound of the piano mixed with the violin filled my ears. Each step that I took across the large was graceful, matched with the perfect movement that my hands flowed in.

The feeling of everybody inside of the theater's eyes was overwhelming, primarily because I knew that a good percentage of them held judgement. In my mind I pictured them waiting for the exact moment that I couldn't perfect in this number.

Despite the harsh feeling of my heart dropping inside of my stomach I kept a small smile on my face and maintained my confidence. Seventy hours of the past week was spent practicing this ballet performance and that assured that I wouldn't mess up in the movement. Recalling the incapacitating look of disappointment on my older brothers face the last time I slipped assured it as well.

The center of the stage is where I make my pause, allowing my eyes to carefully search the crowd. Many cameras flashed, some of them capturing photos for my ballet company and others to put in online blogs that criticize my family.

Regardless of the context of the photo taking, I hoped that I looked good.

It was a sudden shift in the air when my eyes landed on my brother, Andrew. He was sat in an area secluded away from the rest of crowd, more specifically known as Lords room. The wealthy looking people that surrounded Andrew were unfamiliar to me though.

Andrew covertly tilted the tip of his chin upwards, gesturing for me to go on to my approaching move. I nodded and my brother turned back to the man aside him who's eyes were glued onto me and drowned with fascination.

This man had to be a business partner of my brothers because this wasn't the first time that I've seen him.

A soft broken breath slipped past my painted lips as my foot lifted up towards the side of my opposite knee. Keeping my composure underneath my own control was getting more difficult by the second, and my anxiety was getting harder to ignore.

Fourteen years of preforming and I couldn't believe that one uncomplicated move was such a burden to me.

Accepting defeat easily was something that my brother never taught me but, in this situation, it seemed only fair. I've practiced the choreography for Clair De Lune by the French classical composer Claude Debussy almost a hundred times.

The move should've been accomplished by the second time, if not the first.

It's alright Annie, just prove them all wrong this time around. Everybody in the New York theater seemed much more invested in my performance when my leg slides backwards. The other was not too far behind but made it to a forty-degree angle.

When the musicians reach their conclusion it's almost like my heart jumped out of my chest. The soft smile that masked all of my nerves didn't drop while I tilted my head backwards.

My arms flexed as I took the precautions to go into my next move. Without allowing my foot to slip or entire body moving one inch, my entire leg repositioned itself. With the pose held, I reached my arms back and brushed the tips of my freshly painted nude nails against the covered skin of my ankle to go into my final pose.

Got you.

The smile that covered my lips was large when the sound of the classical piece being played was replayed by the crowd clapping and cheering. Due to the theater environment, the plaudits weren't overly loud but not quiet either.

All of my anxiety and worried vanished as the praise begins to soak in.

My gaze immediately went to my older brother, it felt amazing to see him on his feet clapping with a large smile across his lips.