Lovely Fractures

Auditions

The scent of nervousness fills the air as they line up, one by one, pinning silver audition numbers to the front of the black leotards. Pointe shoes in hand, Madigan slips into her spot, glancing down at the number pinned to the front of her leotard. Fifteen. She is not early, nor late in the audition process and she knows that means she will have to be extraordinary for the judges to take notice of her.

Madi exhales, forcing air out through her mouth as determination fills her. She can do this!  she thinks to herself, she can realize her dream. Madi had auditioned for four other ballet schools (at her mother's behest), but Alexandria Ballet School was where she wanted to be. Her only choice. Success was necessary, she reminds herself, Failure was unacceptable. Madi smooths a hand over her dark brown curls, now pulled tightly in a bun and gelled until not a hair was out of place. 

A tap on the shoulder startles her out of her thoughts, and she looks over to see a petite, blonde girl staring at her with bright brown eyes. 

"S-sorry to interrupt. It's just that I'm late, and I'm wondering where the audition numbers are, and you look like you're a nice person, so I figured I'd ask you..." she trails off, worry crossing her face.

"Too much?" She lets out a giggle, "Mom says I tend to speak what's on my mind without holding back. Anyways, I'm Cara Flynn, fifteen years old from Seattle."

Madi smiles at the purity of the girl, quietly pointing out to her the audition numbers basket that lays in the back left corner of the room. She expects that is the last she'll see of Cara, but is surprised to see the blonde bounding up to her moments later. 

"I'm number sixteen! That means you're in my audition group!" Cara exclaims, taking her place behind Madi. 

Madi can sense the excitement bubbling out of the girl and is not surprised when her arm is jostled moments later. She turns around this time to face the girl, to ask her what it is now, when a tall African American man enters the room. Madi snaps around to face the front, plastering a smile on her face and straightening up subtly. 

The noise in the room dies down to a sudden quiet, and the tall man addresses the room.

"I am Monsieur Luca. You may call me Luca, or M. Luca." He says in a ringing voice that echoes across the small space. "Momentarily, the ladies' auditions for Alexandria Ballet School will be beginning."

M. Luca launches into explaining the audition process, stressing that Alexandria Ballet School only takes the best, and ends with wishing the ladies luck.

"If you have no questions," M. Luca pauses, eyes searching the space for raised hands, "We will begin."

He disappears for a moment, and reappears, followed by a young lady with ash blonde hair with a clipboard in hand. 

"Numbers one through six may enter the studio now," she proclaims, and there is the whisper of slippered feet crossing the wooden floor as the dancers make their way through the doorway. Then the door closes, and the entire room seems to exhale a breath.

Cara flops down on the floor next to her, and Madi kneels, taking the opportunity to search through her ballet bag for her lucky charm. It is a small metal cross given to her by her father, before he died, and she keeps it tucked in the lining of her pointe shoes as she dances. Silly, yes, but she hasn't auditioned without it yet, and doesn't intend to start now. 

Madi occupies her self with counting the number of items in her bag, a soothing ritual that she has established for times like these, when nervousness bubbles on the edge of her consciousness. 

Once she finishes that, she counts again, then a third time. She has to count it three times. Every time. It brings her luck, she rationalizes to herself, shrugging off what others may see as a troubling gesture.