Stand Up

Chapter 1: The Plan

Populars: the species one must never cross. High school: the worst, most confusing, awful four years of your life. And for me, it's not even over.

I kept pace to the steady counting echoing off the walls. I watched my every move meticulously in the mirror. When the music faded, Mrs. Jenkins spun around to look at us. She was shaking her head and pointing out each of our faults. But I don't mind. It helps me become a better dancer.

I glanced around the large dance studio. Purple walls and green floors. Mrs. Jenkins says she did that because those are her favorite colors. Chipped blue painter's tape marked the floor showing where to stand. I gazed at my reflection through the large mirror that filled the whole wall. People had told me I was ugly, especially when I was younger. I used to brush it off my shoulders, but now I don't feel so pretty anymore.

My curly red hair lay a bit below my shoulders. Like now, it was often unruly, spiraling in all directions. My complexion isn't the best, but I hope that my sparkling brown eyes make up for that.

Mrs. Jenkins finally approached me and told me what I needed to work on. "And please Isabel, please point you toes." I nodded my head. "Show me," Mrs. Jenkins urged. I pointed my toe as she bent down to fix my crooked foot.

"There you go!" Mrs. Jenkins nodded with content. "Now just keep it like that the whole time."

Dancing had been my dream since I was three. I was enchanted with the graceful movements of dancers onstage. I never ceased practicing, never once considered giving up. The camaraderie among dancers was irreplaceable. I had met my best friend, Kate, in dance.

"Alright let's go again!" Mrs. Jenkins cheered us on. She began the music as we took our positions.

I counted all the steps in my head. I tried to move with the rhythm and paid extra attention to pointing my toes. Then it came to the part I dreaded: the leap. I struggled getting it down for a while, and immediately after I had to re-balance myself for the next move. I went soaring into the air along with the other dancers. It felt like the perfect leap, but when I landed, I was on the very tip of my foot. I didn't have time to catch myself. I fell forward to the ground. My back leg, which was still in the air, was instinctively pulled inwards and  rammed into chest.

It felt like I'd broken every bone in my body. The breath was knocked out of me. I didn't move, only lay still on the cold floor. Someone came over and rolled me on my back. I had enough strength to open up my eyes. I saw the crew of dancers leaning over me. Mrs. Jenkins made her way up to me.

"Are you okay? You need to get some water." She helped me get up and led me to the wall to sit. The pain soon faded away, as all pain does.

They practiced for another hour, before class was over. I followed Kate outside and into her car, only slightly limping. Kate sat down in the front seat and took off her Jazz shoes, breathing heavily from the strenuous class.

"It's hard being a dancer," Kate broke the silence.

"The injuries?" I asked. "And by the way, please don't bring that up again. People will think I'm clumsy."

"Clumsier," she giggled. "I won't tell," she then promised. "But I wasn't thinking injuries. I mean, the preps at school are constantly thinking they're better than you, simply because they play a "real" sport. Girls like us don't get as much credit as we deserve. We just get picked on. I just wish there were no social classes. No populars, no geeks, no nobodies, just friends."

"But that'll never happen," I remarked. Kate shot me a look and sighed with defeat.

"Sorry, but it's true," I said trying to sound calm. "Just be happy we're not the lowest rung on the ladder."