Somewhere Else

I

Ah, the sweet sound of silence. I love it. Especially when I'm sleeping. It sounds the exact way I want. Which is the sound of nothing. Silence ...it hung in the air of my brightly colored room. Until my favorite song broke it from under my pillow. I groaned into consciousness and pulled my phone out to shut the alarm off. I rolled onto my back and stared at the comforting pastels I had painted on the ceiling. I wiped my eyes and looked at the ballet calendar pinned on the wall. Like adrenaline, excitement hastily filled my veins. I bolted over to the calendar to make sure I wasn't being delusional. I was about to stop when a sweatshirt slid on the polished wood floor of my room and made me tumble into my Pointe box. The calendar carelessly fell from its perch on the wall. I sighed and picked it up with a pinch. The anguish disappeared as soon as I confirmed the date.

"Today's the day!" A squeal escaped my lungs as I stood from the plethora of beaten down pointe shoes and extra accessories. The entire apartment complex probably heard me, but I couldn't have cared less. Even the thought of God, I really need to clean my room, flashed through my mind. Brushing off that thought is like dying my hair. Non-existent. It was probably the most exciting thing that's happened to me since I began ballet. My first day of college.

I dropped the calendar on my bed and rushed over to the closet. Sliding off my purple sweatshirt, I delicately picked up a T-shirt I bought from Florida. I didn't have much to say about this shirt. It was nice, and somehow always comfortably cold. Just a bit plain to me. Not really caring, I picked up black sweatpants from my friend Maya. She got them for me as a Christmas gift. They're really good for rehearsing in. The material is light but warm. It's also quite flexible. The finishing touch was a dark blue hoodie I'd never really figured out. It's about three sizes too big, and still has the soft scent of cologne I didn't recognize. I like big hoodies, but I had no memory of this one. I first noticed it about four years ago, after a certain incident. Thinking it belonged to one of Maya's foreign sweethearts, I asked her about it.

"You think It was mine?" She inquired, taking a sip of her Americano.

I wiped my hand on a napkin before responding, "Well, yeah. I wouldn't be asking if I didn't. Maybe it was from one of those Italian guys that stayed with you. You kept a whole lot of their stuff."

Maya let out a sigh. "Now those were some hombres guapos y guapos...if you know what I mean." Maya smiled and wiggled her dark eyebrows.

I launched a chip at her, chuckling. "You're so gross."

Grabbing my backpack and a book, I clipped my Scarlet red bangs out of my face;I quickly skipped out of the small one-room apartment. I was never really attached to the place. Technically, it wasn't even mine. Maya paid for it, due to my struggle with getting a job. The guilt stirred in my stomach any time she gave me rent money. And it's not like I didn't want to get a job. It's easier to spit this out. My name is Andren Thompson. I have to carry my birth certificate along with my I.D. to prove my age and sex(Nineteen and male). I also really love feminine things. Job offers seem to fade away as soon as they realize.

"Why don't you just go drag?" My friend Quinton asked one day.

"Because I'd have to give up my dance career. You know how much work I put into things. Drag would be full-time." I replied, sticking a needle through a new pointe shoe.

"If I went drag--"

"I don't need to hear about your grand adventurous fantasies, Quinton." I inhaled sharply as I felt the needle stick into my fingertip,"I do need a bandage though."

...

I walked through New York, eyeing the store windows. My phone notified me with a Ding! As I observed some fish meander in their tank. I glanced at the screen and noticed a text from Maya. Letting the phone slip back into my pocket, I walked to the crosswalk. I try to use my phone as little as possible when I'm out and about. It's not necessary, and the world is quite interesting from my view. New York is a beautiful city if you look at it.