Dance, Even When No One Is Watching

Chapter 1

Do you ever get the feeling that you are meant to be something more than just someone? Do you ever feel like your stuck inside a cage with an opening somewhere out of reach? I know that I am meant to be more than I really am, that I can be.  But everything and everyone in my life tell me that I won’t be, that I can’t be, that it isn’t possible.

I love dancing. I love moving to music and feeling something that is beyond thought, a connection with the music and my body. I feel peaceful, like I have a purpose in my life. I have never taken lessons before in my life, and no one knows what I feel when I dance. No one has ever even seen me dance before.

When I was little, my mom told me I was dancing before I was walking, leaping from one room to the other. She never had enough money to send me to a class, but that had never stopped me from jumping across the room in time to music whenever I had the chance. Dancing was the only thing that every made me laugh, made me smile, made me feel like myself.

When I was 12 years old I was walking down a part of town that I had never been to before, looking for something to make me stop and stare. It was one of the days I couldn’t stand anymore ordinary school days. I couldn’t tolerate being told what to do every moment of my life, and so I ditched. No one cared. Everyone was too busy immersing and organizing his or her already planned out future to care about someone who didn’t have any idea what was going to happen in her future. They didn’t have time for me, and I didn’t want to listen to them. So we lived in the same world, but in separate lives.

I turned onto a bare street with a simple old-fashioned building standing on its own. There wasn’t a person in site, nor were there any signs of a living soul. I hadn’t been watching where I was going, or noting the people around me. Until this moment I hadn’t realized I had strayed from society into a place no one had gone in years.

I glanced around me, taking in my dreary surroundings. It was gray and lonely, calling for any sort of living person. It was quiet though, as though it had fallen asleep. I walked towards the run down building, noticing a rusty sign hanging from the side. “Craven Studios” it said, the color almost faded from its frame. I pushed open the door, causing the hinges to squeal in protest, but allowing me in anyways. There was a set of stairs right ahead, curving just at the top so I couldn’t see where it led. I walked up the stairs, the boards creaking loudly. At the top of the stairs there was a doorway leading to the most perfect room I had ever seen in my life.

“Oh my god..”

The room wasn’t that modern or fancy, but it was beautiful to me. The mirrors surrounding every inch of the wall reflected my shocked expression. A long bar ran along one side of the room to another about half my height. The wood floor shone, begging me to run across its smooth surface.

I walked slowly into the middle of the room, turning in a slow circle, taking in the mirrors one at a time. I sat down slowly and looked at my reflection staring back at me. I smiled. My life was about to change.

~

Four years later I found myself visiting Craven’s up to four times a week. I had bought a portable speaker system so that I wasn’t dancing to imaginary songs in my head. I danced until my feet were so sore I just collapsed. I never learned the names of any of the dance moves I was learning, I just danced whatever my feet told me to. I grew stronger too. I had to ice my legs in the beginning, my muscles sore from hours of leaping, twisting and turning. After a while, I was used to the constant aching in my legs, pleased that it meant I was growing stronger by the minute, widening my flexibility.

I never told anyone about Craven’s. I never wanted anyone to take it away from me, telling me it wasn’t my place to do so. I felt like Craven’s was the one thing in the world that belonged to me and only me. I felt free there, I felt happy. Often, after a long day of school, the only thing that would help me smile was knowing that I would be able to go to Craven’s a few hours later.

My best friend Emilie constantly asked me where I was going for hours on end after school. I told her that I was working on a project and I needed to do it by myself, but I knew she didn’t believe me. She didn’t understand why I couldn’t stand school, why it frustrated me so much. She put up with me though, and didn’t question me when I told her I couldn’t hang out with her because I wanted to work on my project. She knew that whatever I was doing was important to me and that it was the only thing that made me happy.

My parents never understood though. They thought I was being a rebellious teenager, and sneaking out with a different boy every night. They constantly argued with me, crying because they believed they had done something wrong bringing me up. At that point, I had always stormed upstairs, ignoring my moms pleads to behave. They would never understand.

Despite all of this, I kept dancing, kept pushing myself. I loved it, and I didn’t want anyone to take it away from me.

~

The bell rang, piercing through my daydream. I closed my eyes, listening to the excited murmurs of my peers as they discussed their plans for the weekend. I was looking forward to a quiet afternoon at Craven’s.

“Hey Vi, what are you planning to do this weekend? Want to come over? There’s this party at Luke Carson’s Saturday, we could go together.”

Emilie was looking at me pleadingly. She took any chance she could get to be part of a social group. She was always begging me to come with her though, convinced I would enjoy myself. I sighed shrugging noncommittally. I didn’t really have a choice. Emilie would drag me there anyways no matter what I said.

I got up, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder, heading towards the door. Emilie trailed behind, chattering excitedly about what she would wear to the party. I half listened to her, nodding here and there. We walked to our lockers, grabbed the rest of our books and headed out of the doors together. At the parking lot, I waved goodbye to her and walked towards my little blue car parked at the edge of the parking lot.

I dropped my bag on the passengers seat and started the car. I sighed, tired of school, but relieved it was over for the week. I pulled out of the parking lot and pointed my car in the usual direction; Craven’s.

I pulled up at the front of the building, pausing to smile appreciatively at the old house before grabbing my speakers and walking up to the door. I set my stuff down at the top of the stairs and stretched my legs and arms quickly before turning on the music. I stood there for a minute, eyes closed, hands at my side, letting the music wash over me before starting to move slowly. I leaped when the music leaped, slowed down when the music slowed, grew faster when the music sped up. At the end I raised my hands slowly to the ceiling and stood still, letting the impact of the song finish its magic.

Clap Clap Clap.

I spun around, nearly losing my balance. At the entrance of the doorway there was a boy leaning calmly on the doorframe. A lazy smile was spread across his face, his dark green eyes sparkling. He had curly blonde hair framing his face. His clothes looked effortlessly put together, jeans, a leather jacket and a black t-shirt hugging his body delicately.

“That was very nice. Too bad you obviously have no idea what you are doing.”

I placed my hands on my hips, my mind whirling. Who was he? What was he doing in Craven’s? What did he want?

He raised one of his eyebrows, smirking slightly.

“Aren’t you going to at least give me a basic hello? It’s rude to just stand there gaping like an idiot.”

I frowned, narrowing my eyes. He was too cocky for his own good.

“Who are you? And what do you want?”

He whistled.

“Got a bit of an attitude eh? Well, don’t get too uptight, I’ll answer your questions. My name is Carter and I’m here because I own this place.”