Une Fleure Fanée

Week 5 Part 6 (Saturday)

     She kneels down and bends forwards, her hands behind her back, smiling at the judges. "Time Has Passed" by Jenna Kearns plays and GiaNina rises back up to her knees and performs like she's never performed before. She looks so pained and emotional and she's so fluid and perfect. You'll never be perfect, Lilliana. You're the worst dancer on the team. It makes me cry from how beautiful it looks.

     She walks off the stage and takes her first deep breath in a while. We all hug her and keep telling her how good she was. She really did well.

     "You made me cry," I whisper to her and she starts crying tears of pain and joy.

     I'm really happy for GiaNina and I feel like she did her best that she could have possibly done. I'm really proud of her. She had a big ultimatum, and she nailed the dance. Once the producers give us the all clear, we run back to the dressing room.

     We whoop and cheer, happy with their performances. The soloists run to their moms, hugging them tightly. I run to my mom, sitting on her lap. The soloists did so well. They all competed in the 12-14 category, so we should have a clean sweep. Ms. Abby wheels in right after us.

     "Good job guys. Brady? So easy, so effortless. I thought you were phenomenal. Hannah, I saw attitude. I saw a little sass. You exceeded my expectations. Pressley, you told a story with your face. I think your feet and legs could be better, but you definitely said, 'I am Resurrection Mary.' GiaNina, I told you that being a member of this team was on the line when I put your head on that chopping block, you stepped up. That shouldn't be the relationship. I shouldn't have to threaten you with going home to get you to be the best you can be," Ms. Abby tells the soloists.

     "You'll never have to do that again," GiaNina promises Ms. Abby.

     "Alright. I want these kids to get ready. Let's go," Ms. Abby orders us to get ready for the group dance before she leaves to talk to the producers.

     It's a white tank top, white pants, and a clear belt. I feel so insecure about it. You look so fat in it, Lilliana. We all look in the mirror. All the other kids seem confident and bouncy. I bounce a bit, but I'm just masking my insecurities. I hate it.

     Our hair is slicked back into ponytails and some real casual makeup is put on us with the exception of a red lip to make Brady stand out. We look like clouds with all the white. Brady's mom is very upset. Brady doesn't want to leave. We don't want him to leave. This is his last dance. We have to be perfect. For Brady.

     As I'm going over the music again, Ms. Abby and Ms. Gianna returns. She has one of those puffy red velvet crowns that the first Queen Elizabeth wore and a fake microphone on a stand to act as her sceptre. We all gather in a corner.

     "The queen is here!" she announces, wheeling to face us.

     Brady joins us. He has heavy, heavy eyeliner and a black belt on. He looks sad.

     Ms. Abby continues, "All right. Everybody has to pull their weight in the group. Yes. Is it about Freddie Mercury? Yes. Are all eyes gonna be on him? Not mine. Girls, Brady's leaving. He's not gonna be here next week. You need to go out there and step on the stage like you own it."

     You're too weak and fat to own it. You can't even do addition right sometimes. Who thinks that you're gonna be able to lead a dance. Ms. Abby quickly hands Brady the microphone as his prop before ordering us to go to the side stage. The camera catches a couple shots of us in a V formation, looking fierce and confident. It's kind of funny, considering I'm holding my stuffed llama behind my back. But, to be honest, despite what the voices were telling me, I am confident.