Don't let me fall (Lesbian story)

Subway dancer

I'm standing in the crowded subway, holding on to the wall so I won't fall on my face. The strap of the bag I'm holding is starting to hurt my hand, but I can't put it on the floor. What this bag contains is too expensive, there's no way I'm taking the chance to have it stolen. The train slows down and the door opens, people get off and others take their place. I still have two stops until I have to get off. Someone walks in and stand right beside me. The person is wearing a hoodie so I can't really tell if it's a boy or a girl. I look down at my plastic bag to make sure it's still in my hand even tho I can feel it in my hand, when I realize the person next to me is wearing ballet shoes. Suddenly the train slows down and stops and everything goes dark. People start screaming, but then music starts playing in the train and black light turn on over our heads. People push themselves on the walls to let some space in the middle. The person who was standing next to me has taken off her hoodie. It's a girl and she's wearing a black dress. A tall guy walks toward her and they start dancing with Vivaldi playing on the train speakers. People, who at first were scared, are now watching with fascination. The two dancers move around the train, using the benches and the walls and door to dance. Their choreography is pretty good, their technique is also really good. I don't recognize neither of them. They finish off with a porté and then the light turn back on. On the speakers, a woman voice speaks loud and clear: The Washington Ballet invites you all to this season new show, the Four seasons of Vivaldi.

The train starts moving again and the two dancers walk around with flyers, handing them to everybody in the train. The girl walks over to me with her flyer, picking up her hoodie at the same time. She hands me the flyer and I remember I already have it in my room so I smile and say:

-Thank you, but I already have it.

-Of course, she answers with a fake smile.

I want to say something else so she doesn't think I'm an asshole or anything but she had already move on to the next person. The train stops and the door opens and she leaves with the other dancer. I see the two dancers of my cabin meeting up in the middle of the platform with other dancers. I guess they must have done that little thing in every passenger car. The door closes and the subway leaves again. Nothing happens this time, no random dancers or classical music. The door opens at my gate and I get off. I try to remember the girl's face, searching my memory, trying to figure out if I know her or not. I got nothing. It's weird, I know all the dancers at the Washington Ballet. I remembered the guy, but the girl I could swear to God I've never seen her in my life. I walk out of the subway station and head toward the university campus. I have a 20 minutes walk to get home and walking around the campus is shorter than on the boulevard. It the campus of the Catholic University of America, so nothing interesting ever happen there. I don't know the students, plus I'm not religious so I don't really want to know the students, but the view is prettier than a dirty boulevard with cars everywhere. The wind is blowing and it's kinda cold for September but the walk isn't so bad. Twenty minutes later I'm standing in front of the brown doors of the Kirov Academy of Ballet, or the place I call home.

***

I open the door of my room and drop on my bed. Since I'm a senior here I finally have my own room. I've been attending this school four three years now, this year being my fourth and final year, and I'm sick of bunk beds and sharing my room. Of course I like the people here, all the other students are pretty great, but I still need some privacy. I take out of the bag my new competition dress, especially made for me by hand. Those kind of dresses are really expensive, but you need these kind of dresses do compete. In the academy, I'm the only one who will be competing at the Youth America Grand Prix, or YAGP for short. The other seniors want to go in other ballet schools next year, but I want to work for a dance company, which is why I do the competition. It's my best shot to get seen by company directors. The semi-finals are in December, right here in Washington. Someone knocks on my door.

-Hi beautiful, Graham says while walking in.

-Hey, I say.

He leans in and gives me a quick kiss.

-You got the dress?

-Yes, wanna see?

-Of course!

I show him the dress and then we run off to dinner. Everybody is already in the dinning room. Kirov Academy has about 40 full time students who lives here. In the senior class we are 12, well, we were 12. Rhea, one of the girls, who was born in China but adopted by an American couple, broke her foot two weeks before the beginning of the year, so she didn't came back because she can't dance for at least 2 months, and with that kind of injury she might be done dancing professionally. Graham and I sit at our table with the rest of the senior crew: Aubrey who's from Canada, Emilia from Italia, twin sisters Camille and Flore from France, Luke and Axel who are both from here, then Marcos from Spain, Paul from Canada and finally Cain from the United Kingdom. Graham and I are both from New York city. We both started dancing when we were three, at the same school, and never left each other since. He's always been my dance partner and he's my boyfriend since we're 15. At the table next to ours there's the sophomore class, who are only 10, and then the younger students, the ones who are still in middle school. There's a lot of younger kids, but most of them wont make it to senior year here at Kirov. Or they will quit, or they will get hurt, or they wont be good enough to keep up. We don't just dance around for fun, ballet is our life, and we are all perfectionists. We all want to be professional ballet dancers, but only a couple of us will get there.