Before We Had It All

Prologue

There's always next year. Good things take... time.

Right?

My thoughts bounce around back and forth in my head. To stop myself from milling over every possible outcome of this banquet, I make my way over to the sign in booth. The words Juilliard Scholarship Awards Ceremony are glowing above it, like a marquise for a headlining show.

"Name and hometown?" The woman behind the counter asks promptly, as she adjusts her widely-rimmed glasses to peek at me from above them.

"Harlowe St. Clair" I say quickly, noticing the line forming behind me. "From Davidson, North Carolina." Picking up a marker, I bend down and scribble my name on one of the stickers.

She shoots me a look that screams 'if your handwriting is anything like your ability to dance, you might as well show yourself to the door'. I scrap the nametag and start a new one, this time carefully writing each letter until I consider it to look halfway decent.

"Any day now," I hear someone mutter towards the back of the line. "Like seriously, how long does it take to simply write a name?" Turning slightly, I see a girl about my age and her mother, arms crossed, both tapping their feet on the ground in unison. Figures. Taking my time, I slowly rip the nametag from the paper and discard the trash, making sure to thank the woman behind the counter as I do so. I find my way over to the banquet room and take a seat at one of the many tables occupying the room.

Peering down at my dress, I repeatedly brush my hands over the fabric in a hopeless attempt to remove the wrinkles, which are a dead giveaway that I had just bought it. That, and the ever apparent tag still attached to the seam, which digs relentlessly into my neck as a reminder of why I despise these formal affairs; the dresses always have to be returned the next day. It's a minor downside to being one of the few "less fortunate" girls living in a trust-fund-ruled hell, you never get to keep the nice things. The other girls in attendance are all decorated in expensive looking jewelry, shoes and dresses. Funny, seeing as though there are only two full-ride scholarships up for grabs, yet most of the girls sitting in this room undoubtedly come from money.

I try to let my blatant jealousy roll off my back, but it's nearly impossible. The one thing that I've worked so hard for my entire life could be given to any one of them on a silver platter.. literally and metaphorically speaking. The board of directors actually delivers the scholarship on a silver platter.

My sights were always set on attending Julliard after high school. My most vivid memories growing up are all centered around my mom sharing stories of her time at Julliard, and how she discovered that dancing was the one singular joy in her life. "Until I had Harlowe, of course" she would say to anyone who would listen, her smile beaming from ear to ear. "Then she became my true source of joy. I was destined to be a mother, not a dancer." I wish she had meant that, though. Only two years later would she leave my father and I, right after I finally learned how to properly tie my pointe shoes. She always resented my Dad for not being able to give us the life she thought we deserved, so as swiftly as I came into her life, she vanished. Ballet suddenly consumed my life. It turned into the passion that my mother said it would, she knew it was in my blood too.

Now, the only thing keeping me from following in her footsteps and starting at Julliard is this banquet. Fifty of the best ballet dancers from across the country that were scouted by Julliard, then admitted, now all await their fate. Me included. But the only difference? I truly need the scholarship if I want to attend the school of my dreams, the school that could change everything for me. Without it, I'd still be ten thousand dollars short of paying my tuition, even though I had applied for every other financial assistance program out there.

The recruiters and someone who I believe to be the director of Dance Studies for Julliard form in a single file line, and begin to make their way onto the stage. I told myself that I wouldn't panic, but now that I'm finally here, after the countless years of dedication and practice, everything seems to be surreal. To try and take my mind off of the looming announcement, I look around the room. Nearly every attendee is accompanied by family members, outwardly supportive ones at that, some snapping pictures of their children holding up their invitations and others excitedly rambling about their prospective futures. At my table, there's a family of five all gathered around their son. He looks uneasy, obviously as nervous as I am, but his father nudges him ever so slightly and tells him that he's proud of what he has accomplished. Yet again, another wave of jealousy hits me.

Part of me wishes my dad was here with me, giving me the same affirmations as the boy across from me was receiving. Even though he worked doubles everyday at his job just to afford my flight to New York, he wouldn't stop apologizing for not having the money to come along with me. The one ticket alone was more than enough for me, but now I couldn't help but feel an enormous amount of pressure to be awarded the scholarship so his hard work wouldn't go to waste.

Breaking my thoughts, the board of directors stand up from their seats on stage and applause rattles through the crowd. "The time has finally come to announce our two scholarship award winners," says the director as she turns to her colleagues, snatching the envelope from that daunting silver platter.

"I will say, the competition was truly unmatched this year. I want to be the first to congratulate all of you on your acceptance to our fine institution, and encourage that each of you relish in your success thus far."

Before I can stop it, I'm laughing at the remark. The last thing I'm relishing in right now is success. Quite the opposite, actually. I'm relishing in complete and utter distress as I wait for my fate to be decided. Quickly realizing that I've ultimately interrupted the speech, I cover my stupid blunder with a loud, yet unconvincing cough. The director continues, thankfully unfazed by my outburst. The envelope that holds immeasurable influence on the trajectory of my life is ripped open and tossed aside, embodying that oftentimes something so insignificant to one person can mean the world to someone else. Instinctively, I cross my fingers, slightly hoping that the childish myth might help my cause.

She clears her throat and then adjusts the microphone. "It is my greatest pleasure to offer the Peterson-Wilde full ride scholarship to Alexis Hanson and..."

My fingers go numb from intertwining them so forcefully. One more name, one more chance. If I was meant to attend Julliard, then this was it. The boy sitting across from me with his family glances my way and shoots me a worried smile and I sigh heavily, doing my best to return the nice gesture. Just as I'm watching him nervously tug at his sport coat, everything suddenly begins moving in slow motion. His mother and father engulf him in a frantic hug. His brows go from being furrowed out of concentration to raised halfway up his forehead. His eyes light up in a way I've never witnessed anyone else's do before, and I begin to realize the source of his excitement. The director had called out a name.

And it was his.