⎼⎼⎼ 𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖋𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 ➵ 𝑏.𝑓.

008

mikki

it was literal hell sitting out of every dance the team did. having to watch them perform, rehearse and get corrections. my foot even felt normal, but abby made me sit out.

"so, mikki. what did they do wrong that time?" abby asked, looking at me.

"i think sarah, when you rise up, it needs to be more of a roll than a stand, and lilly, you're coming in and you're the lead. you have to be more...explosive. look like your life is about to end!" 

this is so fun.

"you're really good at this!" abby laughed. i glanced up at the moms in the viewing platform and it looked like they were arguing. i looked at abby, who was rolling her eyes. "don't mind them, mikki."

"and brady, you're center stage before lilly comes in, so your jump needs to be higher and i'm not seeing that releve high enough," i grinned, "i'm having way too much fun."

everyone laughed.

by the end of rehearsal, i was almost sure we would win tomorrow. the routine was emotional, chilling and technique straining. lilly did an amazing job with her facials and her flexibility.

"lilsy, you are amazing, gia, you're amazing, savvy, amazing, hannah, fantastic, sar, awesome, press, excellent, brady...eh..." i joked, "no, but you seriously are so good!"

"don't get too comfortable, there'll be a lot of good teams in zanesville, maybe even the candy apples," abby warned, "everyone except brady, gianina and hannah, you're excused, let's run your solos."

i left after pressley, following her into the dancer's den.

"how's the foot?" savvy asked, nodding at it. i stuck out my tongue and made a 'bleugh' face.

"i mean, it feels fine, but i can't dance," i complained.

"poor mouse," lilly pouted, patting the top of my head.

"mouse?"

"your nickname. you know, mikki mouse!" lilly cheered. i grinned.

"not bad, lilsy," i commented, hugging her. i pulled out my notebook and laptop and pulled up my essay on 'to kill a mockingbird' by harper lee. i liked the book, but it wasn't my favourite.

brady came in a while later when he had finished the rehearsal of ptsd, a dance which i knew he loved and a dance which i loved. he collapsed onto the bench beside me, panting.

"i'm so tired," he groaned, rolling his shoulders back.

"i can tell," i sympathised, handing him his water bottle. he chugged down his water and sighed.

"it must suck to not be able to dance."

i glared at him. "no need to rub it in," i grumbled, punching him playfully. pushing in my earbuds, i pressed on the song i had playing.

now playing: if i have a son by ruth b.

i hummed along as i tapped away at my essay, clicking between tabs.

pressley stuck her hand in front of my screen. i glared up at her and took off my earbuds.

"what did you-" i began, but she clapped a hand over my mouth and pointed at the ceiling. muffled voices were able to be heard. i strained my ears to catch the sound. i motioned 'let's go upstairs' with my hands and everyone nodded.

"just me, i can pretend i was looking for my mom," i whispered, "if i get caught."

i crept upstairs, ducking just behind the wall that led up to the observation mezzanine.

"i think that abby doesn't want to admit it, but mikaela reminds her of maddie," came stacey's voice.

"i agree, i agree," erin chimed in, "she's a strong dancer, but i don't understand why abby would let her give corrections to our kids, like she's better than all of them!"

i frowned. that was not what i was trying to do.

"mikki wouldn't do that," mom protested, "she loves all of the team!"

"i just don't think that another team member should be telling one to fix this or fix that," stacey stated.

"so what's your point?" mom scoffed.

"if abby thinks mikki is better than our kids, she shouldn't be here."

i had heard enough. i bit my lip, hard, and ran back into the dancer's den. everyone stared at me, waiting for me to begin, but i just shook my head.

"nothing important," i lied. everyone grumbled and went back to whatever they were doing.

"what was it?" brady hissed, "i know it was something about you."

i shrugged. "they don't want me on the team," i admitted, pretending to be absorbed in an article about 'the importance of black lives in harper lee's time'. brady tore my computer away from my hands.

"hey-"

"don't think for one second that you don't belong on this team, ok?"

the author speaks:
spotify thinks i'm a smoker and
an alcoholic? i'm a minor?