Invisible

THE STUDIO

AIDEN’S TRUCK STOPPED in front of a seemingly small building, tucked right next to the highway. It was pretty weird, actually. It looked a little abandoned, aside from the ten cars parked around us and the front door wide open, people sitting inside. Aiden sighed, looked at me.

“Did you bring the stuff?” he asked, smiling at me.

“Of course I did,” I said, “But I’m gonna warn you right now that I suck ass.”

He laughed loudly. “Right. I’ll be sure to take note of that.”

He got out of the truck, walked toward my side. Then he opened the door and I jumped out, walked toward the open door.

There were teenage girls everywhere, all seemingly freshman or eighth graders, all dressed in little leotards… It was so weird. All I brought were workout clothes. I looked up at Aiden and he shook his head.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “Not her class.”

I nodded as he gently pushed me forward, leading me down the hallway, toward the staircase. I froze, looked down into the studio. It was massive, probably way bigger than any of the others in the building. The mirrors faced the office, which was right at the foot of the staircase. There was a door toward the far side of the studio, the word GYM written next to it. And Ali was right in the studio, dancing as if it would be her last day, as if it meant the world to her to move to music, to life. I smiled.

She was a lot like me.

“Ma!” Aiden called as we walked down the steps. Ali froze, looked toward us. Then she smiled.

“Ah, you kids actually showed up,” she said, “Better than my junior class. What can I do for you guys?”

“Well,” Aiden said, “I want to see if Emma can still dance the way she used to… Apparently, she sucks.”

I rolled my eyes as Ali frowned, took my hand. “Doubt that. How long has it been since you danced?”

She pulled me toward the center of the studio, waited for me to answer.

“Um,” I hesitated, “five years, about.”

She stared at me, stunned. “Wow. Well then, we’d better get started. Aiden, music.”

He laughed, nodded as he walked into the office. The stereo was toward the gym door, which was weird. My eyes narrowed.

“Where is he going?” I asked. Ali laughed.

“We never use the stereo when he’s here. Waste of electricity.”

Aiden walked back into the studio holding a guitar. My eyes widened as he walked back toward the stairs, sat on the sofa next to the foot of them.

“What do you want me to play?” he asked. Ali shrugged.

“Anything that proves she doesn’t suck, Aiden.”

“Hey, I didn’t say it. She did.”

“Uh huh. Play.”

It took him a moment before he actually started playing, and I recognized the song immediately.

“Try it,” Ali said.

So I did.

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After two hours, Ali and Aiden both said I could dance, that I was just being a bitch about it. I laughed as we started walking down the hallway, back into the lobby. The front door was closed, and the room was mostly empty except for the man (probably a father) sleeping in the chair farthest from the door.

“You didn’t tell me you could play,” I said as we walked toward his truck.

“You didn’t ask,” he said as he reached for the door, started to open it for me. “You impressed?”

“Very.”

“Well, then. Maybe you should come here more often.”

I laughed. “Sure.”