When You Became My World (#1)

Race

Lalisa's POV:

My left hand held the Barre as I rose one leg up to my head to warm up for my test coming in a few moments. I walked in the middle of the studio, where I could see my reflection in the mirror at all angles. I wanted to see if my legs moved in the right positions or if I jumped high enough. I wanted to be perfect on this test.

Riley, the ballet coach, walked in soon after and called us in an alphabetical order. The first letter was E so my turn was just around the corner.

My heart thumped lightly when the coach called my name. I clenched and unclenched my knuckles before dancing. I had memorized the steps to the piece that was played along. Every jump and turn was ingrained in my muscle memory. I shouldn't be nervous.

As my favorite piece, Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake started, I stood on the tiptoes of my Pointe shoes and started dancing. Excitement coursed through me as Swan Lake reached its climax and I spun and spun to end with me balancing myself on my tiptoes . My heart beat rapidly and my fingertips tingled, something  which always  happened everytime I danced ballet .

"That was a good one. You dance so passionately," Riley clapped her hands and beamed at me.

Ever since I got her class, I became her most favorite student, always so eager to learn new stuff and persistent till I perfected every move. I caught Carla rolling her eyes at Riley's comment in the corner of my eye.

Since my freshman year, I tried to stay in my own circle and get along with everyone. But for some reason, Carla hated my guts although I did my best not to reciprocate the hate. Anyway, I moved aside to let other girls take the test...

"You did great back there," I hugged Zara to cheer her. Zara was the only black girl in our class. I could see how ballet was still a bit close-minded when it came to women of color. The aesthetic, principal dancers and principal roles leant on one side. That had to change. My friend dreamt of making a change and I believed she could.

"You did too," she complimented back. I hung my blue tutu on a hanger and sprayed it with freshener. The tutu was the most precious gift my Mom gave me so I took care of it as much as I could.

I ran over the day's schedule in my mind. Victor's race!

"Oops, I'm gonna be late for Victor's race," I looked at the clock on the wall ticking the seconds away. It was only a few minutes away before it started

"I thought you told me he quit." Zara held back a laugh at Victor's rebellion while tying her dreadlocks into a ponytail.

"One thing about Victor: he's never gonna quit bike racing. And the fact that it's illegal only adds the "thrill" I air-quoted which earned another laugh from her.

"But maybe if I make him believe I'm ok with racing, I can talk him into quitting easier" I cringed at the thought of Victor in jail for alleycat racing.

"You just said he never quits," Zara pointed out, her brown eyes amused. I threw my hands up in defeat and sighed.

"Let's just go and root for him."

                          ****

We got inside and sat in the stadium bleachers, as motor engines revved and a girl with a flag squatted down as a signal for the race to begin.

Thank goodness we were right on time. Victor would have sad if I missed the big game.

All the bike racers sprung out racing on the dirt road. I could see Victor dressed in a black and gray biker suit in the second position halfway the first circuit, stiffly competing with the guy in the first position. The guy's bike played dirty, trying to shove Victor's bike off the road rails and win the race. My heart raced frantically at the sight.