Submit (Book 1, The Karyln Trials)

Chapter Seven

     I stand at the base of the stairs, looking at the empty stage before me. The curtain is closed and my knees begin to quake. 

"Miss Grace, you must take your spot on stage. We're already running late, we mustn't run any later." I turn when I hear my name and see a stagehand with a name that I could only speculate.

I give him a small nod and lift the skirt of my dress, praying that I don't scuff my new shoes due to a trip before ever really using them. I walk until I'm center stage in the vast emptiness that feels like a separate entity.

I sit on the floor with my legs folded to the side, my skirt bunched around me, and my back to the waiting crowd. My eyes meet the stagehand's and I give him a small nod that he understands when he signals the other hands to open the curtain.

The curtain opens and I can hear a few intakes of breath in the silence that surrounds us all. My nerves that consumed me flows away like they were taken away with a current as the music begins. I worry slightly when the time for me to stand comes, knowing that I cannot use my arms for they have to move with the music. I should've tried this with the dress before the real deal for I've only ever done this routine in my leotard. But of course, Mother's master craftsmanship shows as the ringlets of material that make up the skirt flow around my legs, not constricting or twisting around them.

When I finally turn and face the crowd, I force myself to see nobody, knowing that the change from going to just myself to fifteen people in the audience and then all of the stagehands would throw my concentration out the window. I picture myself in my leotard and tights reflected in the mirror as I've seen so many times before.

The routine runs through with nearly zero mistakes other than staying on my toes for one count to little. I play off the mistake and finish, I will not let anybody know there was a misstep, nobody shall know unless I tell them. Before I know it, the music has died and I'm frozen in croise derriere, trying to catch my breath.

I finally allow myself to see the real audience and I can see everybody standing on their feet, clapping with large smiles on their faces. I look over everybody and when my eyes find my parents Father sticks his thumb and index finger between his lips and gives a loud whistle. I relax my muscles as a giggle escapes my lips. I give a low curtsy to the crowd and walk off the stage.

A stagehand offers me his hand as I reach the steps and I gratefully accept the support, my legs now weak from the mix of nerves and adrenaline that runs through me. I'm thanking the stagehand for all of his help when I hear a shriek to my right. I look over and see Millie running my way.

I catch Millie in my arms and we hold the other tightly. After a moment, Millie pulls away and there are tears in her eyes and running down her face. "You did so well, Ada. You were so beautiful, if there was a dry eye in that audience then they weren't watching the same performance as I was." I gently wipe her tears away and we begin to walk back to my dressing room.

"Mother and Father looked so proud when the curtains opened and they saw you on stage. Father actually was near the point of sobbing halfway through your performance. Mother got teary-eyed and shed a few, but of course, she kept her resolve." We reach the room and once inside, Millie has me sit in the chair.

Millie quickly unpins the bun and braid, setting to fix my hair the way that she has had in mind. She runs a brush through my hair then separates my hair into sections. She leaves the majority alone but takes the sides of my hair and splits both sides in two. Each of the four pieces of hair are soon braided and I'm holding each at the ends as Millie digs through a small bag on the vanity.

"Now I have a birthday gift for you that I want to give you." My brow furrows and I turn my head to look at her.

"But you already gave me the shoes." Millie shrugs and pulls a new bow from the bag.