"1, 2, 3, hit 4, 5 and 6, snap 7, snap 8..." I say to myself as the music booms through the gym.
Basketball season. The boring season.
No Friday night lights, no band, no autumn breeze.
Just a hot box of a gym and squeaky bleachers.
I feel my hair start to stick to my neck as each second of the dance passes, but I force myself to keep smiling. Mostly because Miss Joan, the coach of the dance team, will kill us during Monday's practice with various exercises as punishment if she notices a falter in our smiles. Lord knows the girls on this team would pass out within the first five minutes of her punishments.
Various thoughts run through my head as the dance continues, distracting me slightly but also keeping me aware of my surroundings.
Wow that's a huge crowd for a basketball game.
I wish I could be eating those nachos right now.
Imagine being one of those girls on the dance team who's desperately searching for their boyfriend in the bleachers right now in hopes that he'll see the random sexual movements in the choreography.
GOD DAMMIT CECILIA I CANT GET TO MY SPOT IN THE FORMATION IF YOU KEEP GETTING IN MY WAY WAY LIKE WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE?!
Wait is the diagonal to the left or the right? Oh crap. Well, I hope the left way is the right way. Wait, what? Great, now I'm confused.
I'm pulled from my thoughts when I realize that the song had ended. We hold our last motion until we hear the crowd cheer, which is our signal to get the hell out of here. As much as I love dancing, it doesn't compare to the food at home calling my name.
We condense our lines and walk off the court and head into the locker room entrance by the side of the bleachers.
By the time I walk in, there's already a mixture of emotion that finds its way in after every performance
"We did so good! I think that's the best we've done the whole season."
"I did okay. My kicks and leaps weren't as high as I wanted, though."
"HOW ARE YOU GOING TO TELL ME THAT NO ONE NOTICED? I FREAKING TRIPPED."
"I just thought that he'd at least come, you know? A little fight shouldn't have done that much damage."
"I'm just ready to go home."
Many of the girls are talking to each other, while I on the other hand am a lone wolf. I talk to no one, and no one talks to me. By the way, my name is Jasmine and I'm 16 years old. I have dark brown naturally curly hair, brown eyes, and light brown skin. I'm mixed with black, white, and Mexican. Quite a mix, huh?
I've always been the odd one out on this team, but the actual dancing part is the only reason why I've stayed for this long. Some days are harder than others, but like I said, my passion for dance is what's keeping me strong.
All chatter comes to a stop when our coach makes her presence known by yelling "The sooner y'all get quiet, the sooner I can let y'all go home", really meaning to shut up and listen.
"Thank you." she says shortly before getting to her point. Here comes the "y'all" storm, ladies, grab your umbrellas.
"There were several mistakes that I specifically told y'all to fix, and y'all's energy fell the end of the routine because y'all are trying to get skinny for y'all's little boyfriends and didn't eat earlier like I told y'all to. Y'all must be crazy if y'all think this was an award winning performance. I'm expectin' a team who's ready to work on Monday. Hopefully the weekend will do y'all some good because y'all need some kind of miracle. Anyways, y'all can go now. I don't want to be here later than I have to be so get y'all's stuff and leave." Miss Joan says.
"Yes ma'am," we all chorused before carrying on to our previous conversations.
I was the first one out of there. Staying to listen to all their pointless chitchat isn't on the agenda tonight. As much as I don't like it, I have a nice big stack of homework waiting for me.
After digging around, I finally found my phone and adjusted my dance bag onto my shoulder as I walked out of the perfume-clouded locker room.
Seriously guys. You don't need to spray yourself a million times.
One small detail about me that seems to be overlooked is the fact that I have anxiety. Yes, anxiety. It seems like everyone has an anxiety disorder these days. Stalling often helps me in situations that scream "ANXIETY INCOMING PREPARE FOR IMPACT".
Right now, walking across the gym in order to leave is one of those situations.
After weighing all of my options in the fraction of a second, I decide that calling my mom as I walk is a great option. I'll be stalling while also calling my mom to come pick me up. Killing two birds with one stone is always the better choice.
I stop briefly to pull up my contacts and click on "Queen Bee" with a bee emoji by it, then I put my phone to my ear before continuing to walk.
After a few rings, I hear my mom's voice echo through the phone as I make it to the small walk space in front of the bleachers.
"Hey, can you come pick me up? Miss Joan let us go early thankfully... Yeah, by the gym entrance... No, there's no traffic... Ok... Ok... Ok, mom... Alright... Ok, bye." I hang up as I step out of the gym.
Mission accomplished.
