From A Dancer's Perspective

In the Beginning

I woke up to a loud buzzing sound. It rang through my ears like church bells that signal the beginning of a new celebration. This buzzing, however, was nothing to cheer about. It was August 14th: the first day of sophomore year. I pushed back my covers, exposing my cleanly shaven legs to the bitter cold air conditioning. My head began thumping. Or was it really my head? Was it my heart? Each individual blood vessel? It was none of those. That dreadful sound was coming from my mother, stomping down the hall like a fierce soldier.

"Brooke?" She began, peeking through my cracked bedroom door.

"Brookie Cookie, honey, it's time for school."

I winced. She knows I hate when she calls me Brookie Cookie. I'm not 5! I'm 15 years old.

"Aren't you excited? It's your first day!" She said, making her way into my bedroom.

"Thrilled." I said, sarcastically. "Oh, and mom: you have way too much energy for 5:30 in the morning..."

"I got up at 4 to go power walking. It's so exhilerating!" My mom exclaimed. I rolled my eyes.

I sensed someone else standing in the doorway.

"Brooke get up. I need to talk to you." a voice said. It was the voice of my 14 year old brother, Josh.

I sat up and stretched my arms. "Let me get ready and we can talk over breakfast." I responded.

He nodded and disappeared into his man-cave of a bedroom. I stood up and dropped down into a left split. As unusual as that may seem, this is very normal for dancers.

"Morning stretch- done!" I said, cheerfully. After fixing my makeup, hair, and outfit, which consisted of a black skater skirt, a white tank top, and black and gold flip flops, I proceeded downstairs for a quick breakfast. My sister, Paige and Josh were anxiously awaiting my attention.

"I tried the braided bun you recommended." Paige said, smiling. I looked at her, closely examining her appearance. She was almost 13, but her style implied she was moreso my age than her own.

I sat down next to Josh, and was immediately blown away by his neon yellow shirt.

"Um, Josh?" I began.

"What?" he responded.

"Are you going to high school or trying to help land a plane on a runway?" I asked, chucking a little.

He took off his shirt, and went upstairs to search his mountain of dirty laundry for a more neutral color scheme. When he returned, he was wearing his varsity hockey jersey from 8th grade.

"It's an improvement." I said, reaching for a banana. I quickly ate it, and ran out the door with Josh in tow to catch the bus. On the way to the bus stop, I checked my snapchat. 500 more fans added me. That broke my previous overnight record of 483. That brought us to the bus. I climbed up the 3 stairs and began to make my way down the aisle. I scanned the seats for someone I knew. Were there any familiar faces on their way to Franklin Regional High School? Then, I saw the faces of Nick Dobbs and Auriel Welty: 2 senior dancers at the Abby Lee Dance Company. I had been dancing with them since I was 2 years old. Nick was my age and Auriel was 2 years older. They were paired up as duet partners back in middle school, but they never dated. I guess that isn't weird, but it seemed so at the time.

"Brooke! Over here!" Nick yelled, motioning me over. I smiled at sat down across the aisle from him. Auriel smiled at me.

"You ready for senior year?" I asked her.

"Yes! I love high school, but Miss Abby is helping me get auditions for next year's Broadway shows. She thinks I could make it big!" Auriel responded.

"Wow that's amazing!" I said, hugging her. I was proud, but also jealous, because I craved Abby Lee Miller's attention, and she refused to give it to me. It was like she always wanted me to fail.

"I wish Miss Abby helped me more." Nick began. "I asked her for help in tap class and she told me the best help would be to 'take off those shoes and stop making that wretched noise!'" I couldn't help but laugh a little. That one line described Abby perfectly. She never wants to help anyone except for a select few who she sees as perfect. From age 6-8 it was me. Now, she couldn't care less about me. I'm not going to lie; it hurts. It's just the way it is, and I'm learning to accept it.

The bus squealed to a stop, interrupting my thoughts. We pulled up in front of the school. I didn't know what would happen this year. It could be great or a total catastrophe. I can't determine that now. After all, it is just the beginning.