Sister Styles

{5} Audition

It was nearing five o'clock. The four girls and I were about to start the auditions. We were told to sit in the change rooms until we were called in individually.

I was scared. Terrified. What if Harry was in there? What if he saw me? What would he say? What would he do? Would he recognize me? Maybe. I'm not sure how many current photos Mum has of me in her living room.

It was completely silent in the room, which didn't make me any less scared and nervous. You could feel the tension between us all, radiating off of us like laser beams. I sat on the bench in the middle, pointing on my toes and bouncing my leg to keep me from screaming. I leaned forward on my knees and chewed on my nails. My eyes glanced up to watch as Emily paced back and forth in front of me. My eyes shot to my right, watching Pamela and Cara whispering to one another. Delilah was on the other side of the room, lacing up her pointe shoes.

We weren't all in pointe shoes. Only Delilah and I. The other girls were either barefoot or flat shoed. My eyes watched as Delilah stood up and practiced some warm-ups. I took notice as she practiced her pliés and relevés.

Now that I have come to think of it, Delilah is really my only huge competition. Which was hard because she was the second best dancer in the class. She was also on pointe, making the competition with her increase, meanwhile the others weren't. This made my nerves jump and make my heart beat harder in my chest. Delilah was good. Really good. If only I knew her dance...

"Cheating now, Samson?"

I shot my head up to look at Emily. Her arms were folded over her chest as she leaned up against the brick wall. "What?" I cocked an eyebrow in confusion.

"You're watching Delilah dance," she tilted her head to the side and played a devilish smirk, her trademark. She was the devil.

"I'm watching her warm-up," I told her off, "that's not cheating. It's called being observant. Or does your tiny little brain not understand that big word?"

Emily glared, nostrils flaring, anger boiling behind her poo brown eyes. She opened her mouth to say something but I beat her to it. "No, I don't have time for bickering with you and arguing back and forth, Emily. I'm not wasting my breath on you today."

She moved her mouth to try and find the words, but instead shut it and clenched her jaw together, avoiding eye contact. I smiled in defeat and continued watching Delilah as she smirked back.

"Alright, ladies," a voice echoed about the silent room as a tall man, dressed in all black, who looked about his mid-to-late thirties, waltzed to the middle of the room. All our attention turned and directed at him. "I'll take your applications now, please and thank you."

We all brought out our application forms and handed them to him, one at a time. As the man looked mine over, his movement slowed bringing his eyes up to mine. He narrowed his eyes.

"Is there a problem?" I asked, a sweet smile gently playing on my lips. I know what he was referring to on the paper. My last name.

He tilted his chin back, keeping his eyes on mine. He licked his lips then spoke, "Nope, just checking out what we've got here." He said, then started towards the door. He stopped and turned back to all of us. "Good luck and make the best dancer win."

As he left us all alone, once again, all the girls eyed me in confusion. "Must've been my handwriting. He might've misread something." I waved it off. Oh, he misread something.

Instead of putting my last name as Samson, I replaced it with my real name, Styles. I know it's a long shot but I wanted to see their reaction in putting my name there. Maybe Harry may have mentioned something to them about me. Maybe that's why the man looked at me so curiously.