The Rockstar Chronicles

Betrayal

Beads of sweat stood out on my forehead. My face shone a brilliant red and a trickle of sweat ran down my spine as I spun, stumbling over my own feet.

“You okay?” Bridge asked, turning toward me. We had been practicing for what seemed like hours. I danced behind them all, though the front two boys, Hardyn and Grady, stood just in front of the other three. Bridge was to my left while Ryder stood before me. Tom was on my right.

I nodded, but the music stopped abruptly. “Bridge? What are you doing? No talking!” One of the trainers glared at me and then Mom, but she deftly ignored him.

“Lindy!” she hissed angrily. “Do better!”

“You can do it, Lindy,” Ryder whispered, grinning at me. I nodded, grateful for his encouragement. He had been my side, urging me on all day. I wanted to show him that I could do it, too. I wanted to prove it to all of them, but especially Mom.

I picked up my pace, afraid to fail in front of everyone. But I was worried it wasn’t enough. It seemed as if I was always a step behind, no matter how hard I tried.

Finally, the music stopped. I gasped for air, bending over to catch my breath. Sarah, the dance instructor and choreographer, walked over to Mom and they began talking in low tones, glancing at me periodically. I straightened, walking slowly around and holding my side, but I couldn’t keep from glancing at them as well. I knew they were talking about me.

Grady slammed his water bottle onto a chair and came towards me, sweat streaming down his face and staining the armpits of his shirt.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low as he glanced at Mom. She glanced at us, a worried expression on her face and then came towards us.

“I’m doing my best,” I protested, fanning my shirt. I was so hot. The boys gathered around me and Bridge offered me a bottle of water.

“Well, maybe it’s not good enough,” Grady said, not even bothering to keep his voice low as Sarah and Mom joined us.

“What do you mean, Grady?” Mom asked, slipping her arm around my shoulders and shaking me slightly. She stared down at me as if proud. I was impressed. Usually Mom was very peculiar about getting sweat on her and there was no way I wasn’t soaking her clothes at that moment.

“I mean, she could always improve,” Mom looked at me as if she was imparting some great wisdom or advice. “But she’s doing just fine. Don’t you think so, Sarah?”

“Yeah,” Sarah piped up as she tightened her ponytail. I’ll admit it. Sarah terrified me. At first glance, she looked like a typical teenager, but when you looked closer, she was older than she seemed and much, much stronger. Muscles stood out in her arms and legs and her stomach was a six-pack. I sucked my own stomach in when she came to stand on my other side. “I can tell you’ve had extensive training.”

“Only the best,” Mom sing-songed. “For my little girl.”