Blue (The Spectrum Series: #3)

Chapter Forty-Nine

I've been to countless dancing competitions my entire life, but none of them compare to the chaos that is the dressing room backstage before my class goes on to perform. I can barely take one step without getting pushed to the side by a frantic girl running across the room to use a friend's lipstick. Grace, a friend of mine, rushes behind me to join a group of girls cramming in a practice of the group routine. I can practically smell the anxiety in the air. Most of it must be mine because my hands are shaking, and I wonder if I should go join them and practice, but I need to finish getting ready. I'm already wearing my dancewear: white tights, a sparkly white bodice with beautiful rhinestones and tutu, and my brand-new pair of pointe shoes my aunt Lyra bought me two weeks ago. But I need to do my hair and makeup.

I'm sat in one of the vanity chairs, straightening my hair until it's pencil-straight. The girls on my right and left are already doing their makeup, so I quickly finish my hair to avoid being left behind while everyone goes on. I know I shouldn't look, but I glance up at the clock on the wall and check the time. I have exactly ten minutes to finish getting ready before we have to go on. My heart sinks to the floor and I work my hands to gently wrap my hair in a neat, tight bun, wrapping a white ribbon around it. I fumble through my makeup bag and decide to just blush my cheeks pink, carefully apply pink lip-gloss, and swipe on black mascara.

In my reflection I admittedly look elegant. Put together, even. But it's not how I feel inside. Inside, I am losing my mind and frantically trying to calm myself down. I try to take deep breaths to calm my nerves and settle my panicked mind, but it doesn't work. Nervousness eats away at the deep pit in my stomach, and all of the terrifying questions of doubt start popping up, and I can't do a thing to stop them.

What if I mess up a step and throw my entire class off, making us look like idiots because of me? I've practiced and listened intently in class, but what if none of what I learned translate into my dancing? I can get caught up in the anticipation of my solo part next. I have danced in competitions, it's my passion, but what if I'm not ready to go out there on my own and I am not good enough? There are very important people watching me out there. Years of dance practice and learning difficult techniques establishing a charming stage presence can easily fly out of the window because of how huge this night is for me. What if I choke up and stare at the light the whole time instead of moving? What if I am simply not ready to go out there and dance in front of those people?

I sniffle and hang my head low. I hate that I am swimming in self-doubt. That I'm putting my years of practice and refined skills to the side and focusing on the negative thoughts and uncertainty in myself instead. I've never been this anxious in my life. And no matter what I do or try, I can't get rid of this heavy weight sitting on my chest. I grab a tissue off the table and swipe under my eyes, horrified of ruining my makeup. I need to stop crying before I mess up my face. I don't have any time to fix anything. I take deep stuttering breaths to calm myself but end up sniffling some more.

"Who hurt my, butterfly?" I hear a deep voice boom behind me.

I perk up and turn around. "Dad, Aunt Lyra." I smile weakly at them.

I'm momentarily taken aback by dad's appearance. He's wearing a black blazer over a light plaid dress-shirt tucked in pants that aren't washed out and held together by a fraying belt, and his normally disheveled blonde hair is gelled back professionally, or at least it looks like he didn't spend two seconds running his hands through it. Lyra looks stunning, as usual. Adorning her simple curves is a sleeveless black dress with rhinestone designs around the collarbones, and she has her curly brunette hair swept over one shoulder.

They both look presentable and well-kept together. Me, on the other hand, I am a disastrous mess.

"Nobody," I answer and sniffle.