As You Like It ╱ Dance Moms.

Prologue. Dancer In The Wings

𓆝 𓆟 𓆜 𓆞 𓆡

Prologue. Dancer In The Wings

The auditorium is a cacophony, its walls echoing with the thunderous applause that reverberates off the stage, swirling around Anaïs like a storm she can't quite weather. Every clap, every cheer seems to press in on her, drowning out everything but the frantic pulse of her heart. Nervousness has settled into her lap like an uninvited guest, making itself at home in the form of a quirk in her brow, a flush of deep red spreading across her face. The emcee's deep voice booms over the microphone, his tone full of excitement, sending a shiver down her spine and causing goosebumps to dance along her skin. The adrenaline in her chest is so thick, she can feel it tightening around her lungs with each breath she tries to take. It's like she's caught in a vice, her heart pounding faster than it should, and with every beat, the applause grows louder, a sea of noise that drowns out her thoughts.

Anaïs looks down, avoiding the gaze of the emcee and the audience, trying to steady her breathing, but it feels like her chest is collapsing under the weight of it all. Tears sit at the back of her throat, threatening to spill over, her eyes burning red as if the very air around her is too hot to handle. For a moment, she feels like she might drown in the overwhelming emotion, but then she forces herself to look up. She meets the emcee's eyes, then shifts her gaze toward the audience, her vision blurring slightly as she blinks rapidly, trying to hold back the wave of tears. The emcee's voice rings out again, warm and bright, his smile so wide it's almost comical. And then, before she can even catch her breath, a little girl — hair neatly styled in two dutch braids —bounces up to accept her second-place award. The girl's joy is palpable, and Anaïs can't help but remember her own first time standing on a stage, her chest swelling with pride as she accepted second place. That was back when she still believed second could be something to smile about. But Abby, her dance teacher, had squashed that notion long ago. "Second is the first to lose," she'd said. "You should never be proud to lose."

Abby's voice lingers in the back of Anaïs's mind, like an old record player stuck in a loop, the melody of her words repeating over and over, each note sharper than the last. It's a voice that is both familiar and foreign, a constant hum in the background of her thoughts. Anaïs tries to push it away, but it's always there, just beneath the surface, always ready to rise. She shifts her focus, but the memory claws its way back, faint but vivid: the time at competition when Chloe had beat her, won by a mere two points.

Anaïs can still see Chloe, standing tall, her blonde hair catching the light like gold in the sun. The smile Chloe wore was a mask of pure pride, almost unrecognizable. It was a confidence that seemed to glow around her, a stark contrast to the usual self-doubt that often clouded her friend's eyes. Chloe grinned from ear to ear, triumphant in a way Anaïs had rarely seen her. Back then, Anaïs had tried so hard to convince herself that it didn't matter. Second place was just as good as first, wasn't it? She was happy for Chloe, genuinely so, or so she told herself. But the truth lay in the silent tears that gathered in her eyes, stubborn and uninvited. The camera's lens— her mother's lens — glared at her, but it wasn't just the camera she felt watching her. There was Abby, too, standing nearby, staring at her with that piercing look, but was it aimed at her? Or was it at Chloe beside her, who had won?

Anaïs smiled through it all, her fingers clutching the plaque as if it were the only thing anchoring her to the moment, her nails digging into the cold metal. Her lips wavered, the smile not quite reaching her eyes. She had forced it, the way people force a mask over a wound they don't want anyone to see. A thousand questions flooded her mind, none of them answered. Where did I go wrong? Was it the slight stumble, the hesitation in her step when she needed to be flawless? Was I not good enough? She couldn't shake the thought that she hadn't given enough, hadn't done enough. It was as if the victory she craved had slipped just beyond her reach, mocking her. And all she could think, the only resolution she could form amidst the storm of doubts, was I'll do better next time. I'll be perfect.

But then the emcee's voice cuts through the cloud of her thoughts, pulling her back to the moment. Something shifts inside her, a heavy weight lifting off her shoulders as her name is called, and the tension that's held her in place for what feels like an eternity begins to melt away. A wide, proud grin spreads across her face, so wide it feels as though it might split her cheeks, and she rises from her seat, the tension in her chest finally releasing as she steps toward the front of the stage. Her heart slows, her breath becomes less of a desperate gasp and more a steady, triumphant rhythm as she reaches out for her trophy — taller than she is, glittering in the spotlight. As a woman behind her slips a shiny silver tiara into her hair, Anaïs can't help but marvel at the weight of it, the way it feels like the crown she never knew she needed. She straightens up, adjusting the tiara with a satisfied smile, basking in the warmth of the applause now ringing in her ears. Her family's cheers cut through the noise like a beacon of light, guiding her safely back to solid ground. She breathes in deeply, the air finally feeling like hers again, and for the first time in what feels like ages, She can breathe again.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello! I know it's been awhile and I'm only giving you a prologue, but there have been a lot of things happening with school and other personal stuff so thank you for being so patient! A little update, my phone broke and I'm not going to be able to get another one until next month, so I am now writing and updating from my laptop. It's a little different and will take some time to get used to, but I'm willing to adjust for now! On a different note, keep in mind that this is my first time actually writing a prologue, so I tried to keep things a bit tame (which I failed at?) and at a momentum. Please let me know what you think and keep an eye out on the first chapter as it should be coming out in a couple of weeks.  Have a good rest of your day/afternoon/night and please make sure to drink and eat today! K bye!

© marlborocuts, 2024