Alex's phone buzzed but he ignored it. The doctors said that he had torn his calf muscle, hyperextended his knee and dislocated his ankle. Possibly the worst part though, was that he had strained all of the tendons in his right leg and even tore some. They had said he'd be able to walk eventually, once the damage had been given time to heal. Then he had asked the question that had ruined his life. Would he be able to dance? He remembered it vividly, the anxious face of his mother, his own fear and the look in the doctors eyes. That sad, deeply sorrowful look. No. He could never dance again. It would put too much strain on the already weakened muscular system in his leg and would paralyze nearly all of it. He would never run, he would never jump, never play soccer, kick a ball, skip, hop, spin, slide. Never jazz square, never plié, never again. Never again, would he be happy. Another buzz from his phone. He didn't want to talk. Not even to Ashley. He looked at it anyway. Ashley again asking where he was and if he was ok. Did he need help with homework, did he need lab data, would he be at rehearsal. Oh god. Rehearsal. What would he tell Mrs Lizza? Rehearsal, show choir, it was all gone. He had lost his ability to dance. And he had lost his will to sing. He heard the doorbell ring. Who was that? And what time was it? He checked the clock on his phone. It was 3:15. And then he saw the last message Ashley had sent him. "Open up" it read. The door opened and Ashley came around the corner. She carried her backpack on one shoulder and slung around the other was a bag with her game console, and a bunch of junk food. "I figured you were sick so I stopped by my house and grabbed the essen-" she cut off mid sentence when she saw his leg. "What happ-" then she saw his eyes. Alex, what's wrong? Alex?" She sat down on the floor next to where he lay on the couch. He sat himself up and began to tell her. He started with the game and talked about plays a little. She liked listening to him talk about soccer. But he could tell she wasn't very interested today. He told her about the shot, the kick, the pain. He told her about the doctors. And finaly, he told her about the news, the terrible, heart wrenching, wonderfully horrible news. He told her he couldn't dance. She didn't understand at first. "But once it heals you'll be able to do the show with us right?" No, he wouldn't be able to. Her face. Her face when he told her. It was like she had gone. For just a split second gone out of herself. Then she came back, but she didn't want to be here. She wanted to be somewhere in the past, somewhere dancing with him.
