Have you ever had those mornings where you woke up and knew it was going to be an awful day? Those days are the worst, and unfortunately, that was how my day started.
Yesterday afternoon, I was doing my housework while the boys were doing farm work. The mail came and I was beyond excited, because I had received a very important piece of mail- my letter from Juilliard. I wasn't nervous because Darlene, also known as the beautiful ballerina, was on the Board of Admissions there and told me that I was given an audition. I was nervous to tell my dad about Juilliard. We didn't exactly talk much, my dad and I. It's not like I expected him too, not once did he ask my brothers what they wanted to do. So why would he ask me? But this is what I wanted, I live to dance.
"Ma!" I shouted loudly, "Where are you?"
"Upstairs? What do ya need?"
With the letter clutched in my hand, I ran up the stairs. Sure, I waited a whole day to tell her, but she would understand.
"What is it darling?" She said happily.
"Well," I said, exaggerating the last three letters, "I got a letter. And it's from a fine arts school. And they told me that I got an audition. Plus, it's a really good dance school! Maybe one of the best in the world."
"Oh my baby girl, that's amazing! Absolutey amazing!"
"Yeah, it's great. But, the location isn't exactly ideal..." My mother furrowed her brow and a worried look wiped her face.
"Well," saying the word in the same tone I had, "Where is it?"
"It's, er, it's in New York City.." I tried to mumble the words so she couldn't hear. I couldn't bear to look at her face. I felt a mix of fear and nausea. What if she wouldn't let me go? Usually, she gives into my pestering and Dad says no. I've never wanted anything so much in my life!
"New York City?" she started rubbing her temples, "Darce, I know how hard you've worked and how badly you want this but, I, I just don't think we can afford it! Patrick's already at Dublin and Aidan and Caitriona need help with the kids."
Tears began to fill my eyes. Juilliard, I've wanted it for years, my dreams just taken away from my hands.
"Maybe, I could talk to Dad," I hated to cry, everytime I cry, huge hives form all over my face. They're big and blotchy, and make me look weak. "I'm sure he'll understand right?"
"Darcy, you can talk to him but I won't promise anything."
I ran into my room and cried my eyes out. I knew my number one rule was no crying, but there were always exceptions to rules. Stupid world, why must you give everyone else their dreams and tear mine up! A few years ago, there was this girl in my dance class, Aoife McNamara, of course she was perfect at everything. Even Darlene loved her dancing more than mine. Last year, her and her mother packed up and moved to New York. Now I hear that she's on Broadway. Finally, I pull myself together and wash my face with ice cold water, it doesn't get all the blotches off, but it helps a little. After about an hour, I worked up the nerve to talk to my dad. It was around dinner time, so all the boys would be already inside. Slowly, I walked down the steps, knowing my future lay in his hands.
