The Art of Balancing » work in progress

CH. 9 : "Befriending me isn't going to get you another boy scout badge."

It was an impulse decision.

Ending up in front of Radley at 2 AM on Saturday night, I mean. What was I supposed to do when I had not only Graham's keys staring into my soul, but my old pointe shoes also sitting under my bed in a cardboard box, peaking out just enough to persuade me? It's not like I had a choice.

If only Graham had actually showed up to class Friday, then I would have gladly given him his keys back, but no, of course he decided to stay home. Selfish. And then thanks to my awkward eavesdropping on him and his dad, there was NO WAY I was EVER going to casually stop by the Bryant household for as long as I live.

So that left me to sit all alone in my bedroom while Reid, Sasha, and Mac were in Seattle, visiting Sasha's parents. I was invited - of course - but I figured, why go talk to my step-grandparents I haven't seen in forever when I can just be miserable in the comfort of my own home instead? Besides, I had Beaugart.

Either way, I let my mind get to the best of me and since all of my self control had been used up, the entire walk to Radley, keys in one hand and pointe shoes in the other, was a total blur. I can hardly remember even making the decision to do the one thing I was forbidden to do. That didn't matter. Who was going to find me, right? What sane person would actually be at school on a Saturday night? Well, besides me.

So there's my long story short.

Now I am walking up the steps with my sweatshirt wrapped tightly around my body as I make my way to the front doors. I bring the keys out of my pocket and up to one of the locks and I pause. What if this is some weird sort of trap, and as soon as I put the key in, a million alarms go off and Reid shows up and...

No. That's not going to happen. I am going to make my way into the studio and do the one thing that holds me together. In and out. Simple as that. It won't hurt anyone.

The key slides in and the door opens swiftly. I use my phone as a light as I make way through the halls and towards the auditorium, and even though I have no doubt that I'm alone, I still am extra cautious. I have to be. I don't want to risk anything; I like being almost normal again.

I almost scream the first time the lights come on because I've forgotten about the motion censors, but I shrug it off. Worse comes to worse I can just say that I left a project here, right? Or I was casually sleep walking with pointe shoes in tow. That sounded believable.

I'm finally in the abandoned hall and as soon as I'm in, I turn one row of lights on in the auditorium, just enough to guide me backstage. Then I weave myself around backstage until I find the studio door.

There's something so eery about all of this. I have to check over my shoulder to make sure Freddy Krueger isn't behind me every now and then, but I love the adrenaline. I feel like such a bad ass right now.

That is, until I place my phone on the studio's floor and a piece from Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake starts playing.

For a split second, I feel extremely nauseous, but the adrenaline counteracts it and I quickly slide out of my clothes so I'm standing barefoot in an emerald sports bra and a pair of almost seamless dance shorts. Not the cutest outfit or the most flattering (and seriously not the most modest), but who knows when I'll get another chance to stand in a studio and study my body? It's something I have to do.

I don't even bother to do anything to my toes; I don't wrap them or tape them. I simply shove them into my pointe shoes, lace up the ribbons that are about to fall off, and stand to my feet again. I thank the Lord that my shoes haven't gone totally dead yet - I just want one more dance.