The Perfect Attitude

The Perfect Attitude: Chapter 4

                   In ten minutes, I'll be up there, on the stage, to perform my solo.

                   If I get first, I get one thousand dollars for my studio.

                   If I get one thousand dollars for my studio, I get free dance lessons for a month.

                   And with that, my family can save enough money to improve my brother's health.

                   "Eden?" Kennedy, one of the girls on my team, turned to me as I fixed my hair into a loose bun. My teacher planned for my hair to fall out in the middle of the routine, and I'll have to use hairography or whatever it was called. I shuddered at the thought of whipping my hair back and forth like Willow Smith or something. 

                   "Yes?" I replied, snapping out of my thoughts.

                   "You need to get backstage, and quickly." she warned, twisting her dark hair up into a flirty bun.

                   "Oh, thank you." I smiled warmly at her.

                   I pulled on my tan jazz shoes, fixed my simple but stunning costume, and asked my team and their moms for their opinion on how I looked. After getting their approval and the final approval from my teacher, I was escorted by Casey's mom, Mrs. Collins, to the hallway that led to the back of the stage. Usually my mom took me, but she couldn't make it, since she was taking care of my brother.

                   When I reached the destination, Mrs. Collins bid adieu and wished me luck before joining the rest of the group in the audience. My stomach was fluttering, so I did a couple of front aerials and High School Musical-style jumps down the locker-lined hallway to calm my nerves a bit. Luckily, this competition was held at a preppy private school, which meant that the stage won't be too slippery. I was mentally running the choreography in my head whilst pacing around in an absentminded fashion.

                   Then I bumped into something hard. Instead of toppling over like I expected to, a pair warm, strong arms slid around my bare waist and pulled me back onto my feet. I turned around, coming face-to-face with an amazingly handsome guy with dark brown hair and amazingly bright blue eyes. 

                   "You okay?" the stranger spoke. He wore only a pair of shorts that came to his mid-thigh. A pair of jazz shoes enveloped his feet, and all of his muscles were highlighted with bronzer. He carried a can of hairspray and a brush in one hand.

                   "Yeah, I'm fine." I said breathlessly, my face growing hot.

                   "You competing?" He asked. His bright electric-blue eyes pierced into my warm caramel-colored ones and my stomach fluttered. This is new...

                   "Obviously." I replied, trying to sound as casual as possible, "Are you?" It was a good thing that my heavy makeup hid my blush.

                   "Well, I'm not shirtless for nothing."

                   I smiled and let out a small laugh, "Good point."

                   "So...what division are you competing in?" He asked. I stood there awkwardly as I watched his eyes rake over my body. 

                   "The one for old people." I joked.

                   "Sixteen to eighteen?" he asked, tearing his eyes away from me. He started sculpting his hair into an asymmetrical fohawk and heavily misting it with hairspray.