The Open Door - Sean and Kaycee

2. Closed Soul: Sean Lew

Sean

Barricading a door is an artful process. I actually researched how to do it properly. The first step is obviously to lock the door (bolts are especially nice, but not every door has one). Next, for a door that swings out, build a tall wall to block intruders from seeing what's on the inside. For a door that swings in, push heavy furniture against it. Jamming a chair underneath the handle often does the trick.

The main idea is that you want to have as many layers of resistance as possible. If you're extra paranoid, like me, then keep a few blunt-force objects nearby, just in case the intruder comes armed.

I always barricade the door when I'm in my room, even in the complete safety of my own house. My mom calls me "irrationally paranoid", but honestly I think that it's a necessary measure. Even though no one has ever actually barged in on me (not since the first time at least), you can never be too sure.

Ever since we moved to LA, my mom and my sisters have been worried about me. You're closed off, not at all like your normal self, my mom keeps telling me. And I guess it's sort of true. In the year that we've been here, I haven't been to a lot of dance classes. I haven't made too many new friends, either, aside from Julian and Josh. Mostly, I've stayed holed up in my room, choreographing random stuff that I'm never going to perform.

After we moved, I've been completely averse to letting anyone in. I've been afraid of turning into "the old Sean" who was happy, loquacious, and maybe even too friendly. Because I learned too soon that being open leaves you far too susceptible to being betrayed and hurt. So I closed myself off, and now, here we are. It's just me now, and I'm fine with that.

I hear are three knocks at my door. Mom, I can tell from the determination of the knocking and the fact that she's usually the only one who is fierce enough to disturb me when I'm in my room.

"Come in," I yell.

"The door, Sean," she yells back.

Oh, right. I run to remove the chair that's jammed under the doorknob and unlock the door. She walks in, holding a flyer. My mom always reminded me of a lioness -- when she walks, she carries herself with that inexplicable air of pride and self-assurance, and when she speaks, her tone is almost never questioning; she'll barrage you with her unwavering declarative and imperative sentences until you crack.

"Look at this," she says, handing me the flyer, which features a fierce-looking older female dancer striking a jaw-dropping pose and a bold heading that says ImmaBEAST.

"Yes," I say, trying to remain nonchalant. Whenever I see anything about dance, I'm suddenly struck with more emotions and painful memories than I would prefer. It's suddenly a lot harder for me to keep my guard up if dance is involved.

"Read this last part on the bottom here," she tells me, "and tell me what you think."

Company audition will take place June 25nd, 2018. All are welcome to participate. In addition to regular company auditions, we will also be forming an elite team of 10 dancers ages 14-18 who will personally train and tour with Will and Janelle.

"That's... interesting," I comment, once again trying to stay neutrally apathetic. The truth is, I really don't know what to say. It's the opportunity of a lifetime, the type of opportunity that Old Sean would have died for. But does New Sean care about that type of stuff anymore?

"I've already signed you up for the audition," Mom says casually, snapping me out of my thoughts, "just so you know."

"WHAT?! Mom, June 25th is literally tomorrow." I can't believe her sometimes.

"I know," she responds smugly, "I'm telling you now so that you don't have time to back out of it. Since I know that's what you'd have done if I told you any earlier."

"I can still back out of it," I mutter under my breath. Mom is highly aware of the fact that I have backed out of almost every audition I've been to since we moved to LA. She thinks it's purely a matter of self-confidence, but I know that it's something much more deeply rooted inside of me.

"No, you absolutely cannot," she snaps back, "Sean, it's time for you to get out of whatever funk you've been in. Dance is your life, remember? We moved here so --"

"Okay, okay," I say quickly, "I'll go. Just this once. But I can't promise that I'll get out of the 'funk' that you think I'm in."

Mom continues on with victory in her eyes, as if she hadn't heard the last part of what I said. "Good. Be ready at 10:00 tomorrow. This will be good for you, Sean. I know it will be."

I'm not as sure.

**Hey there! Thanks for continuing to read my story. I know that this chapter and the last one were really boring and completely void of action, but they were necessary for me to establish Kaycee and Sean's character and mindset. I'm so thankful for the encouragement that you guys have given me, and I hope that you're at least able to get something out of this story.

Random question: Are you guys fans of Harry Potter? If not, then you should be. If so, what house are you in? I'm a megafan of Harry Potter, and I'm in Ravenclaw. 💙💙💙