Elliot

5 - First day

The main hall of the academy was nothing like Elliot had imagined. Polished floors stretched endlessly, reflecting streams of natural light from towering windows. Students bustled about, their movements deliberate and precise, as if even their footsteps were choreographed. The faint echo of music seeped through the walls, a blend of classical piano from one studio and pulsing bass from another.

Elliot hesitated just inside the doors, gripping the strap of his bag. This was it—the place he'd dreamed of getting into, the place so few ever did. But now that he was here, the reality of it felt heavier than he'd expected.

To his right, a group of ballet dancers walked in perfect unison, their posture impossibly straight, their faces unreadable. Each wore the academy's signature black leotards and pink tights, their hair slicked back into flawless buns. In another corner, a cluster of contemporary dancers stretched in a circle, their laughter and casual movements a stark contrast to the disciplined grace of the ballet group. Elliot tugged at the hem of his bright jacket, suddenly hyperaware of how out of place he must look. His style was loud, his energy unfiltered—a far cry from the composed confidence radiating from everyone else.

"Welcome to the Academy, what's your name?" a voice called out, pulling him from his thoughts.

He turned to see a woman with a clipboard, her sharp eyes scanning him from head to toe. "Elliot Graham."

"You're in Studio 3 for orientation," she said curtly before walking away, already addressing another student.

Studio 3 was down a corridor lined with mirrored walls. The sound of his sneakers against the floor felt deafening in the quiet space. When he pushed open the door, he found a group of students scattered across the room, some stretching, others chatting. His eyes immediately landed on three people who stood out. Near the barre was a girl with vibrant green hair pulled into a messy ponytail. She wore black leggings and a tank top with the words 'Dance Like You Mean It' printed across the front. Her movements were fluid and confident as she stretched, her gaze flicking briefly to Elliot before she smirked.

To her left, a tall, broad-shouldered boy leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed. His deep brown skin glistened slightly with sweat, as if he'd just finished an intense warm-up. He nodded at Elliot, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, as though sizing him up. On the floor near the mirror was a girl with ginger hair tied in two loose braids. She was focused on lacing up her jazz shoes, her freckles catching the light. When she looked up and saw Elliot, she offered a tentative smile.

Elliot stepped further into the room, trying to shake off the nerves twisting in his stomach. "Nice jacket," the green-haired girl said, her voice carrying easily across the room.

Elliot grinned, the comment loosening some of the tension. "Nice hair. What's your name?"

"Zoe," she replied, her smirk widening. "And you are?"

"Elliot," he said, glancing at the others.

"Damien," the tall boy said with a nod, pushing off the wall and extending a hand. His grip was firm but friendly.

"Josephine," the ginger-haired girl said, her voice soft. She looked at him curiously, as if trying to figure him out. "But everyone calls me Jo."

"Nice to meet you," Elliot said. He looked around the room at the other students, then back at the three of them. "So... what's the deal here? Are we supposed to, like, prove ourselves or something?"

Zoe chuckled. "Not yet. Orientation's just a warm-up. But trust me, the real tests are coming."

Damien added, "You'll be fine. If you got in, you've already impressed the big shots. Now it's about surviving."