Becca POV
I slide out of my father's embrace.
"I have to get ready, I'll see you later," I say. He nods and leaves the room. I quickly remove my dress, replacing it with black spandex and a white crop top. The outfit is a bit edgy for me, but right now it's good. I put my converses back on and take my hair out of it's current ponytail, letting it fall naturally on my shoulders. I glance in the mirror. I look decent.
"Did your pow-wow with daddy go well?" Mr. Carlton asks, pinning my number onto my shirt.
"Yes sir," I reply.
"Good, now go kick some butt." He gently shoves me on stage with the other contestants. I look around at my competition. None of them look intimidating, but then I see Paisley glaring at me. I wave innocently and she roles her eyes at me.
"Alright contestants, welcome to the improvisation round. In this round, we will play a song and you will interpret it through dance. Our judges are looking for a good interpretation, emotion, and talent. The only rule are you are not allowed to touch any fellow dancers, copy them, or sabotage them; and this dance is not allowed to be previously choreographed. If you hear your number called, then you are dismissed from the stage. I believe that's all, good luck dancers." The friendly man announcing says. I position myself away from the other dancers so I'm not in their way.
I hear the music fade in. I don't recognize the song, but I can tell that it's slow. I pick out the beat and start moving. I hear numbers being called, listening for mine... 14. The number of people shrinks rapidly, but I keep dancing. Paisley and I are left with four other competitors.
"23. Now will the final five come to the front of the stage." One of the judges says. The current music stops and we line up, "Alright, will number 3 please step forward, number 14," I step forward with number 3, "Finally, number-
Please don't say 20, please don't say 20.
"20," He finishes. Really? Paisley steps forward, joining me and the other dancer. "You are the final three, Thank you number 17 and 6, you did well." They start a new song, this time it's more upbeat.
Each of us do our own dance until the music stops.
"Well done ladies," the female judge says, "But there will only be one winner, and that is...
Could this take any longer... I fidget nervously as I await the results. What if Paisley wins? What if I didn't? Could the dance have been better?
"Number 14, congratulations," I hear my number called. I see Paisley's face grow red out of the corner of my eye.
"Thank you," I say, and I exit the stage with the other two girls.
"That was perfect," Asher says, picking me up and swinging me around.
"Thanks,"
"It's all because of me," Mr. Carlton says.
"Actually, it was all because of my dad,"
"Okay,"
"He did something for me, so I wanted to do something for him: make him proud,"
"I'm sure you did. Go put on a jacket, it's time for awards, and it's drafty in here,"
"Yes, sir," I mock salute, and hurry to get a jacket. I walk into my dressing room is a royal blue pullover. That is definitely not mine. I pick it up and see 'Rebecca' monogrammed on the front. I turn it over and it reads 'Los Angeles Academy of Dance'. I smile and pull it over my head. I reemerge from the room and find my way back to the stage. Each of the teams are sitting together, awaiting the results. I walk over to my group and sit beside Asher.
YOU ARE READING
Dancing Through Life
Teen Fiction- I don't dance when I'm being told what to do. Dancing is an art. You don't tell an artist what to paint, and you don't tell a dancer what to dance. It's independent - Rebecca is a relatively normal teenage girl apart from the fact that both of her...
