Where I Belong

The Performance: 1

"Next up, we welcome to the stage entry number 268, Closer." The announcer's loud voice beamed all throughout the auditorium. I was nervous. I was shaken up. In this moment, I was so cold to the point where I couldn't feel my body. It's almost as if my whole body went numb. This was it. It was my time to shine.

I walked onto the stage with my head held high. I was about to perform my jazz dance. I was wearing a light pink two piece costume, with sparkles on the outfit. My hair was tied back into a tight low ponytail. I loved this song. I picked it myself, and I also choreographed the whole dance.

I didn't have much support when it came to dance. My parents preferred if I got more involved with something like volleyball or soccer. But that just wasn't me. I enjoyed expressing myself through different movements. Dancing is always a different experience. The moves and the songs are never the same. Sometimes i'll be focusing on a hip hop, more upbeat kind of dance, and the next i'll be performing a sad, lyrical dance.

I love it here. The stage. The audience. I was in my beginning pose, ready to tackle my routine. I looked out at the guests ready to watch me, and estimated about 350 people sitting out there.

Sometimes it can get to you. The large number of people. There were so many eyes watching me, and if I did one small thing to mess up, I would be done. The dancers against me would win. I had to do this perfectly.

My song began to play. It wasn't too fast of a song, so I was able to do slower but more sassier moves. It was sexy. I liked the rythme to this piece. I did tricky moves, but nothing was too much of a challenge for me.

I've been taking part in dance lessons since I was around four years old. I'm used to all of this. All of the jumps, the turns, and all of the technique that I have been working on for years. At the end of the day, I do it for myself.

I don't have many friends, I only have my sister. She doesn't dance, in fact, she isn't apart of any team whatsoever. She is my biggest support system. I decided to take dance seriously around age eight when I realized that I didn't have much to do. Most kids at school were making plans to hangout with each other, but I was never included.

I go home at night and listen to my music. I pick different pieces that interest me and then I perform them for people.

"So baby pull me closer in the backseat of your Rover," the words instantly sent chills down my spine. I have been listening to this song for the past six months doing this number around ten hours a week. I have never felt this way before.

I swayed my hips to the lyrics, and glanced at the audience once more. I felt a lump form in the back of my throat. It felt like I was going to freeze in the spot I was currently in, but luckily I did not.

I locked eyes with this guy. He wasn't your 'typical' guy. His name was Ethan Harrow. He was the same age as me and went to the same high school. He was the captain of our schools football team. I saw him bite down on his lip as I danced. I smiled at him, and then I regretted it. I'm not good at this kind of stuff. Flirting, I guess we will call it. It's also quite ironic, seeing as I don't know how to flirt one bit. That was my first and last attempt at it though.

I have never been in any type of relationship before. I know, I know. Grade eleven and I haven't even held hands with a guy. Maybe this is why I don't have many friends. Anyway, I was eventually done performing. It felt like my number lasted way longer than normal.

I was in my dressing room when I heard a gentle knock at my door.

"Come in."

"Hi, I saw you dance up there. You did really good."

I wasn't sure who was talking to me. I turned around and went to thank whoever this male was, when my eyes grew wider.

"Thank you," I blurted out.

Ethan Harrow was standing right in front of me, with a rose held in his right hand.

"Oh goodness..." was the only thought running through my head.

Why is he here? I thought I would've scared him away. I guess we're about to find out.