Une Fleure Fanée

Week 7 Part 6 (Friday)

     She slowly slumps in her seat forward, exhausted. I'm not tired anymore, but all the other kids are similarly slowly falling back asleep. I carefully try to reposition Lilly, but her head falls in my lap. I jump back a bit in surprise at the sudden contact.

     Even when she's sleeping, she doesn't look peaceful. Her face is contorted to pain and even when she isn't conscious, her foot is shaking. Her bulimia pill is also supposed to be helping with anxiety. That's not working. She's obviously very anxious. If her meds aren't working, what could she be doing?

     I look around, isolating my head so I don't disturb Lilly. All the other girls are fast asleep. I'll have to tell them later. Suddenly, a wave of sleepiness falls over me too and I slump forward too, making sure Lilly's head doesn't get compromised as my eyes close.

***lilly***

     "Welcome to Fairfax! Wake up! We're at the studio! I want the dances to be clean and I want the dances to be as good as you can make them! Let's go! The bus driver will drop off the luggage at the hotel and we're gonna dance for the entire day!" Ms. Abby announces as they're getting her out of the bus.

     We wait for Ms. Abby to get out of the bus. I realize my head is in Elliana's lap. I must have fallen asleep. Elli's still asleep. I slowly remove my head and shake her shoulder gently. She wakes up and blinks, looking at the seat before taking in the sights. The other girls are also slowly waking up.

     I suddenly feel nauseous. I take a small sip of my cold water bottle, and I feel a little better, but not entirely. I also have a headache. I probably shouldn't dance today, but I have to. I feel like I'm on the constant verge of throwing up, but I get in the studio and mask all my sick feelings to everybody. I'm fine. I'm going insane, but I'm fine.

     The studio, Stage Door Dance Studio looks a lot like the one in LA. Maybe because it has clear windows looking out onto the road and wooden floors. The white table and the red solo cups are brought out to work on the hazing number.

     "Lilly, don't get there early or you're just gonna stand there doing nothing."

     "Faces! Change them!"

     "All the way around as fast and spot that, Lilly!"

     "Suck in the stomach with your spider!"

     "Lilly, you have to slither off that table!"

     "Do that weird panicky moment bigger. Make it obvious that you're confused because you're dying isn't the next eight-count"

      Comments are supposed to help you become a better dancer. The logical part or my brain knows they are just corrections that will help me. The urges, however, overpower that logical part of my brain. You're a horrible dancer, Lilliana. You have to be given corrections. You can't even dance well. You're dumb and stupid.

     "The acting at the end is atrocious. I don't see anybody being like, 'Oh my God. What happened to her? What do we do?' And then I don't see you run like 'It's not my fault!' I don't see that. At all," Ms. Abby critiques the other girls.

     I don't have to do any acting. I'm supposed to be dead. This hazing number is a hot mess, and Ms. Abby gives up for the day, moving onto Pressley and Hannah's solos.

     "Daydreamer, why don't you and your mom come out?" Ms. Abby calls out.

    Hannah's mom, Ms. Ann, comes out in a white tunic. Is she a maid too? Is she going to be dancing? That's a hilarious thought. Instead, Ms. Ann brings out a big foam trophy with a tiara on top, sets it down, and walks out.