3TS: The Chances of Starting Again

What Went Wrong

One small crack can soon shatter dreams.

It all looked so perfect. Until what I had done. When he fell, my heart fell and my world shattered into chaos.

We haven't even started the dance and the sun and pressure on this big day was making me sweat a waterfall, gushing down my cheeks.

"We will do great, Krissa. You'll see." Arlene smiled warmly at me.

Her eyes were bright brown, excited for what lay ahead. Her hair, although brown and wavy, was stuck to her forehead and seemingly almost blond in the bright sun.

I smiled back. "Thanks, Arlene."

She always knew when I was too nervous.

Suddenly the school drummers started to beat loudly. I moved as gracefully as I could down my line, performing my steps as correctly as I could. As we were directed, we smiled up (and had to make eye contact) with the judges. Two of them smiled back at us, while the other two were in awe at our glittering costumes and interpretations of our story.

Our whole school depended on us. Pressure was on these five precious minutes.

And that pressure on a third-year high schooler like me...that was a big weight.

It. Had. To. Be. Perfect.

We stomped. We sidestepped. I heard the boys at the front yell, "The Kadayawan Festival!" The drums boomed. Someone blew fire as another waved a colorful flag.

That's when I looked up.

I looked up at a specific dancer, Journal. He was up in the front. There were two boys holding up a single board of wood. Three boys stood atop, waving a flag and blowing at a torch to "breathe fire".

That's when I laid eyes on a dancer at the front of this group. One of the five chosen boys to dance at the front.

Trent.

Even with paint on his face, I could see his set jaw. I could still see that clean-cut black hair of his. His light-brown, broad shoulders covered by a strips of costume. And his innocent, warm smile.

If he just switched his costume into custom-designed jeans and jacket, he would have looked like a model for Bench. But, of course, a third-year high school student model.

That's when it happened. That's when it all started.

My knees buckled.

I don't know why, journal, this happened. Out of all the times I had to (literally) fall for a boy, it had to be this moment.

My feet came down and slipped on some pebbles on the road.

Time didn't seem to get any faster as I watched in horror. I fell forward, slower than a turtle, pushing the student in front of me. Like a slow-moving domino effect, I watched as student after student fall until the crashing dominos made it to the front. Someone nudged the platform.

The platform wobbled. Only one of the main boys fell from above, crashing down into the street.

Juan had fallen.

Right in the center of the performance.

**

I looked around. Why couldn't time speed normally? Why was I seeing the judges shake their heads very slowly? Why was I seeing the fallen student point to me so slowly? Why did I have to see all the shocked and disappointed faces of my fellow students, classmates, and teachers look at me for the longest minute of my life?