Une Fleure Fanée

Week 10 Part 4 (Wednesday)

    You're just what the comments say, Lilliana. You're awful, and fat, and annoying, and a brat. You're ugly, and rude, and childish, and immature. You're the worst dancer on this team and nobody likes you. You don't deserve to dance with these amazing dancers. You don't even deserve to live. Just kill yourself so that everybody will finally be happy, Lilliana.

     I grow very quiet. I feel an overwhelming tingle on my wrist. Pressley opens her mouth to say something, but she remembers that her mother is there, so she shuts her mouth. I show her the phone silently and she deletes the comments immediately before holding my hand and squeezing it. A hug would be too risky.

    Brady looks confused but shrugs it off as we pull up to the studio. It's not raining anymore somehow. We run up to the door and quickly go to Studio A. Hannah and Sarah are both there. We all begin to chat about the group dance and solos.

     "So, a jazz piece. Sassy jazz. That's different," Sarah states, and we all murmur in agreement.

     "In leotards. Lace leotards," I shudder, gagging a bit with discomfort.

     "You'll look great," Hannah reassures and I shrug.

     "Whatever," I quickly dismiss.

    "Girls, let's go! We're going to start shooting!" Ms. Abby yells despite being four feet away from her.

     "All right, now, listen, we are doing a dance that is sultry, soulful. Could I give Brady different choreography within your number? Sure I could. But then he's featured again. And I don't want to do that. I want you girls to be able to win on your own," Ms. Abby states before we begin the choreography with Ms. Gianna.

     Poor Brady. He has to watch us dance while he's just forced to be in the corner of the dance room, pacing back and forth to keep himself warmed up.

     "Can we all stand in second? Just try this for me," Ms. Gianna asks and makes us all stand in a line, bending our waists to a ninety-degree angle and placing our left hands on each other's shoulders.

     After a couple of corrections, Ms. Gianna continues, adding, "And then, let's take this arm up and we sit right here."

     After learning a bit more of the choreography, we run it. There's no particular storyline, and it's a lot more mature. I definitely enjoy the dancing itself, but wearing a lace leotard lays heavy on my mind. You're going to look so ugly and fat in that lace leotard if you don't get down to 60 pounds, Lilliana.

     Midway through learning the piece, Ms. Michelle walks in, party hat still in, and announces, "I just want to tell you what this text said."

     I furrow my eyebrows in confusion on why she's interrupting the rehearsal, but Ms. Abby doesn't object, so Ms. Michelle continues. Ms. Gianna motions for us to take a five-minute water bottle, but we all intently listen to the conversation.

     "So I get a text, and it's from Studio 19, that just said, 'Hey, um, we're coming to Lancaster, we're entering 14 numbers, and karma's a bitch,'" Ms. Michelle reveals.

     Fourteen numbers? Are you kidding me? Fourteen chances to beat us?

     "Just don't worry about it. Go and be a lady and be positive and be respectful. And don't worry about it," Ms. Abby advises.

     Ms. Abby. Talking about respect? Crazy. She just tells the truth, Lilliana. After all, honesty is the best policy unless your name is Lilliana Belle Ketchman.

     After we're dismissed, Ms. Abby wheels over to a producer and confesses, "I have to go. I hate this music. I don't want to put these kids on stage with this music. It's horrible. I don't like it, and I'm leaving. Goodbye. I don't like it, I don't like it. I don't like it," and then she wheels out the door.