Juliana & Her Big Surgery 🩰

iv. prima ballerina

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I tap to my Spotify and scroll down the black bars of songs in my classical music library. Then, I walk to a corner of the room to practice pique turns. As I start pointing my toes to the floor, I find an object to set my eyes on. You have to find something to look at as you turn so you won't get dizzy, and my target was a mini, wooden Nutcracker.

Mommy always told me I was star-bound, I just needed to find my talent. One Christmas, we visited my grandparents' house and they took us to see The Nutcracker. Most of my classmates found the idea of sitting-still for three hours a total snooze-fest, so I was ready to pout my lips and cross my arms in protest.

Instead, I literally fell in love. Once the lights went black, I was transported to a fantasy world, and I never felt so jealous in my life of the dancers on stage— because they got to live in it. So, I tapped my mom on the shoulder and whispered that I wanted to start doing ballet.

Soon, I find myself in ballet 2, backstage wearing my sweaty, velvety green dress and my hair in tight, bouncy curls. I watch the Sugar Plum Fairy twirl across the pink-lighted stage. I pay attention to the way she made her body float, like she's dancing on clouds. She wears a sweet, pink tutu with diamonds sewed into her corset. And her hazel eyes glimmered in the spotlight.

Everyone else wanted to be Clara, but ever since I did my first of many productions of The Nutcracker, I wanted to work my way up to becoming the Sugar Plum Fairy. The Sugar Plum Fairy is known as the one of the hardest dances in ballet stamina and technique wise, and is given to the most skilled dancer in the company: the Prima Ballerina.

And that's when I decided: I want to become a prima ballerina.

One faithful day, Lana Meredith's, a performing arts school with one of the best ballet programs in the country, posted to their Facebook page that they would be holding open auditions for two spots in their programs. It didn't matter if you were rich or poor, you had a chance.

Mommy immediately wanted me to audition, saying that school was my one way ticket to prima ballerina-dom. So, I did. Lili and Lucy got the scholarships that year. Meanwhile, I couldn't even get past the first round.

A couple days after I got the rejection email, she came home with a Best Buy bag swinging under her wrist. She unwrapped the plastic to reveal a polished, black camera. I remember being hypnotized by its circular lens, reminding me of a cyclops's eye. Not knowing that it would change my life forever.

Sitting on my desk was a silver play button. It's a heavy metal plaque given by YouTube to celebrate us hitting one-hundred thousand subscribers. Pictures of our family at Vidcon were pinned to my bulletin board. The camera became a part of our lives, and I made sure to take care of it.

I was so thrilled people cared enough to watch my journey to get into the school. So, not to let our audience down, I worked to make sure we show them a happy ending. I isolated myself from all of my "friends". Mommy told me they were temporary classmates to make it easier. Because if I loved ballet, I had to be willing to make sacrifices for it.

After winning LACBC (Louisiana Classical Ballet Competition), I got the chance to audition again when I was eleven.

And then I freaking bombed it after the second round: the interview. I remember how I kept looking down at my lap, how distracted I was at the sequin dangling from my leotard. I thought I was doomed forever. Until I got third place as a soloist for UBC (Universal Ballet Competition) a year later and was offered another audition. Finally, when I was twelve, I was accepted into my dream school!

I turn my head to the heart-shaped photo collage on my wall. Polaroids of Lucy, Lili and I, line the space from head to toe. Now that the journey was over, I was finally allowed to have friends. They took me in and accepted me, not caring how I got there. Not caring that I didn't do it in one try like everyone else. But an icky thought lingers in the back of my mind, like black mold growing between the tile cracks in a dirty bathroom. If my classmates are temporary, does that mean my friends are, too?

When I glance at the two golden trophies on my shelf, the thought goes back into hiding. Grey dust coats the shiny tins like a fuzzy blanket, reminding me that it's all in the past. I miss when people used to look at me. I miss not feeling like a loser. Now I'm the same as everyone else and Ashley Howard is the star. If Ashley had a YouTube channel, she would get a million subscribers.

But if I can get this solo, I won't have to accept defeat anymore.

"Ow!" I shout.

Suddenly, the same stabbing pain shoots up my spine and it takes over my entire focus. I curl into a ball, groaning through gritted teeth as I press my finger-pads into my stiff back. My brain thinks about the rolly pollies in the garage, and how I looked just like them. It makes me smile until Mommy opens the door, holding her third eye between her brows.

"Hey, Julie. I just wanted to make sure you were practicin'— what are you doin'? Why are you on the floor?" she asks.

"Mommy, can you please not film me right now?" I ask.

"In a minute. I just wanna show everyone how amazin' you are," Mommy replies. "But the floor's probably dirty. I think you should get up."

I let the camera drink me so its stomach would be full of footage. I did say I loved being seen. I have to love every part of it, I guess.