The Dark & The Beautiful

15

"Oh? That sounds interesting."

My eyes rolled to the cloudless sky above. "I wish. Mom, she's a stone-cold bee-itch." I said into the phone earning a small laugh from my mom. "Really?" she replied through her snort.

"Yes she's so strict and she's always criticizing me which is weird because then she'd give me a compliment right after which throws me off because like do you like me or not?"

"Who is this bitch?" I can imagine my mom raising a brow over the phone as she spoke and I let out a chuckle of my own.

"Her name is Sharon Bussell. She's a former pro ballerina so she's basically like a certified legend in the dance community and she's kind of a big deal and the fact that she's teaching us is sorta a big deal as well but —"

"But that still doesn't give her the right to be an asshole to you or any of the other students." my mom finishes for me taking the words right out of my mouth.

"Exactly, see me and you always on the same page."

She smiles through the phone. "Two pieces of paper from the same book, what can I say?" I can hear her shuffling around in her desk chair meaning she's doing a little dance and I immediately let out a soft groan. "What did I tell you about spending too much time on social media?"

"What? The little clock app is fun. I can't stop doing the catchy dances." She shuffles around in her seat again before letting a small snorting laughter take over her for a moment. She has one of those contagious waves of laughter that make everyone around her laugh and before I know it I'm joining her. It's times like this when we giggle together that I'm reminded how laughter was part of the loving bond we made, and we were so free to feel that way because we were safe in each other's hearts and it's time like this I'm reminded just how much I am my mother's child in the purest form.

••••

Today's rehearsal wasn't like the usual. The dance studio wasn't filled with spinning dancers trying to execute their best ballonné or perfecting a glissade across the floor, instead, the only thing that filled the dance studio this afternoon was the crippling anxiety that radiated off of everyone in the room as Miss Sharon made all of us line up behind a weight scale placed in the middle of the room.

She stood with her clipboard and pen in her toe as she watched us with keen eyes, one of the older students behind her with a white measuring tape. "Next!" Sharon called, gesturing for the next to step forward and step on the scale. She measures their height and then gets their weight and calculates their BMI, and if she approves you earn a simple head nod in the direction of the barres on the other side of the studio, but if she doesn't approve you get a nod towards the changing room which can't have a good outcome whatever that may be.

"This is psychotic," Penelope says from behind me, I turned back to the panicked redhead, her arms wrapped around herself. "like this has been unethical teaching I'm sure this is against the ballet rules or something."

"If it is I doubt someone like Sharon Bussell cares," I tell her, my eyes wandering to the font where Sharon had the student wrap the measuring tape around another student's waist and then their necks. I turn back to Penelope to see her sinking into herself still, her arms hugging around her tighter than before the closer we got to the scale. It's no secret that Penn is one of the curvier dancers in the school but even still she's one of the best I've ever seen. Her confidence and stage presence are something I could only wish to have so to see her standing here with sweat forming against her forehead as she nervously waited to hear measured made me sad.